The Queen In The Boardroom

Chapter 8

Caleb’s POV

The ghost of the portrait followed me all night.

I hadn’t slept. I had paced the length of my office, the sonogram on my desk under the harsh glow of a desk lamp, mocking me.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that twelve-year-old girl in the white lace dress. The Sterling eyes. The Sterling chin. The Sterling blood.

I had spent $200,000 in a single hour just to buy a name. An assistant at the Sterling Group, a man whose greed was the only thing more substantial than his fear, had finally cracked. For the price of a small house, he gave me a time and a room number.

"The Chairperson is reviewing the Phoenix Project bids at 10:00 AM," he had whispered over a burner phone. "Room 7001. If you get caught, I don't know you."

I didn't care about the risk. I didn't care that I was essentially breaking into the most secure fortress in the financial world. I needed to see the man in charge.

I needed to talk to the "Old Man" Sterling, the patriarch I had seen in the center of that painting. Surely, a man of that stature would listen to reason. Surely, he would see that Knight Group was an asset, not an enemy.

I would explain that Evelyn was... well, I didn't know what she was to them yet.

A distant cousin? A runaway niece? I would apologize for the "domestic dispute" and offer a merger that would benefit us both.

I straightened my tie in the reflection of the elevator’s polished chrome. I looked sharp, but I felt like a man walking toward the gallows.

The elevator chimed. Floor 70.

The doors slid open to a hallway that defied the laws of corporate design. It wasn't an office; it was a sanctuary. Silk tapestries lined the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive Oolong tea and old, untouchable money.

I pushed past a pair of startled secretaries who tried to ask for my credentials. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. If I stopped, the gravity of what I was doing would crush me.

I reached the double doors of Room 7001. They were heavy, solid oak, carved with the same lion crest. I didn't knock. I shoved them open.

"We need to talk," I announced, my voice booming in the high-ceilinged room.

The room was vast, dominated by semi-circular windows that overlooked the entirety of Central Park. Sunlight poured in, blinding me for a moment.

I saw three figures first.

Three men stood like pillars of salt against the window. I recognized them from the portrait, though twenty years had turned them into predators. Julian, the eldest, was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over a chest that looked like it was made of granite.

Marcus, the second brother, was adjusting his cufflinks, his eyes tracking my movement like a sniper. Lucien, the third, was tapping a rhythm on a tablet, a smirk on his face that promised nothing but pain.

The Princes of the Sterling Empire.

But they weren't the ones in the chair.

In the center of the room was a high-backed, white leather executive chair. It was turned toward the window, showing me only the back of someone’s head,dark, silken hair pinned up in a style that screamed authority.

"I apologize for the intrusion," I said, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I addressed the back of the chair. "I am Caleb Knight. I believe there has been a profound misunderstanding regarding my company’s status with the Phoenix Project. I am here to speak with the Chairperson."

I expected a raspy, old man’s voice. I expected the Patriarch to turn around and demand I be arrested.

Instead, there was silence. Only the soft, rhythmic clink of a silver spoon against porcelain.

"Mr. Knight," a voice said.

My blood turned to ice.

I knew that voice. I had heard it every morning for three years. I had heard it whisper "I love you" in the dark. I had heard it ask me, softly, if I would be home for dinner.

But this wasn't that voice. This voice was wrapped in velvet and dipped in liquid nitrogen.

The chair swivels.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Evelyn sat there.

She wasn't wearing the $20 sundress from the villa. She was wearing a structured, ivory power suit that probably cost more than my first three construction contracts combined. A single string of South Sea pearls sat against her throat, the only soft thing about her.

She held a delicate teacup in one hand, her movements fluid and regal. She didn't look surprised to see me. She looked bored.

"Evelyn?" The name fell out of my mouth, weak and pathetic.

Julian stepped forward, his shadow falling over me. "That’s Chairperson Sterling to you, Knight. Watch your tongue before I have it removed."

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at any of them. My eyes were locked on the woman who had spent three years scrubbing my floors and waiting for my call.

"You..." I stammered, my mind racing through the thousands of memories that were now being rewritten in real-time. "You’re the Chairperson? You’ve been running this... all this time?"

Evelyn took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving mine. They weren't the eyes of the "Wallflower." They were the eyes of the girl in the portrait, intelligent, ancient, and utterly cold.

"I’ve been the Chairperson for five years, Caleb," she said softly. "I took a leave of absence to see if a certain 'Golden Boy' was worth the effort of merging our lives. It turns out, my brothers were right. You were a poor investment."

The room felt like it was shrinking. The three brothers moved closer, a physical wall of Sterling power surrounding me.

Marcus looked like he wanted to break my neck. Lucien looked like he wanted to audit my soul.

"Evelyn, I... I didn't know," I said, the words feeling like ash in my mouth. "If I had known who you were, I never would have…"

"You never would have called me a placeholder?" she interrupted, setting the teacup down on the glass desk with a sharp clack. "You never would have brought your mistress into the home we built? You never would have called me a wallflower?"

She leaned forward, her gaze piercing through the pathetic mask of my arrogance.

"You only care now because you’ve realized the 'trash' you threw away is the only person who can keep your company from sinking. That isn't regret, Caleb. That's a balance sheet."

"No," I gasped, reaching into my pocket. My fingers brushed the sonogram. I wanted to pull it out. I wanted to ask her about the child. I wanted to scream that I was sorry.

But the words wouldn't come. My throat was tight with a shame so heavy it felt like lead.

"I’m sorry," I managed to whisper. "For everything. I’ll make it right. I’ll do whatever you want. Just... don't do this. Don't freeze me out."

Evelyn didn't even blink at my apology. She didn't look moved. She didn't even look angry. She looked at me the way a scientist looks at a specimen that failed to meet expectations.

She reached out and picked up a thick folder from her desk. She tossed it toward me. It skidded across the glass and hit my chest.

"Mr. Knight," she said, her voice dropping an octave, becoming the voice of a ruler. "I don't care about your apology. An apology has no market value."

I looked down at the folder. In bold, black letters, it read: ACQUISITION PROPOSAL: KNIGHT GROUP.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"It’s an offer," Evelyn said, leaning back on her white leather throne. Her brothers flanked her now, a three-headed guard of Sterling fury.

"I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours buying up your debt," she continued calmly. "I own your mortgage. I own your secondary investors. By the end of the business day, I will own 51% of your outstanding shares."

I felt the room spin. "You’re taking my company?"

"No," Evelyn corrected him, a sharp, dangerous smile finally touching her lips. "I’m buying it. Every brick. Every patent. Every stapler."

She stood up, walking around the desk. She moved with a grace that made me realize I had never really seen her walk before. I had seen her shuffle; I had seen her walk with her head down. I had never seen her march.

She stopped inches from me. I could smell the rosemary and butter on her skin, a scent she had chosen to wear today just to twist the knife.

"And then," she whispered, her voice a lethal promise. "I’m going to burn it. I’m going to liquidate every asset, fire every executive who laughed at me, and erase the name 'Knight' from the New York skyline."

She looked me dead in the eye.

"I don't want your money, Caleb. I have more than you can imagine. I want to see you stand on the street and realize that the only thing you ever truly had... was me. And you threw me away."

She turned back toward her chair, dismissing me as if I were a shadow.

"My lawyers will be at your office at noon. Don't bother fighting it. You’re playing against the house, Mr. Knight. And the house always wins."

"Evelyn, wait!" I cried out, reaching for her.

Marcus moved faster than I could see. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I felt the bone groan.

"Touch her," Marcus hissed in my ear, "and they won't find enough of you to fill a shoe box."

Julian signaled to the door. "Get him out of here. He’s polluting the air."

The guards I had bypassed earlier appeared in the doorway. They grabbed my arms, dragging me back out into the hallway.

I didn't fight them. I couldn't.

I looked back one last time as the oak doors began to close.

I saw Evelyn sitting on her throne, silhouetted against the Manhattan sky. She was sipping her tea again, her brothers leaning in to discuss the next move on the board.

She didn't look back.

The "Queen" was back on her throne. And I was finally realizing that I had never been her king. I had just been her biggest mistake.

The doors slammed shut, echoing like a coffin lid.

I stood in the hallway, the sonogram still in my pocket, realizing that I hadn't just lost my company. I had lost my soul to a woman who was about to burn my world to the ground.

And I deserved every bit of the fire.