CHAPTER 10

Oliver's POV

The elevator ride up to the executive floor was silent, but my mind was moving a mile a minute. The marriage certificate was burning a hole in my inside pocket. I had the leverage I needed, but timing was everything.

When Elena and I stepped off the elevator, I gave her a quick nod. "Go find Frank. Have him brief you on the board members' names and faces. I need you ready."

"I'm on it," she said, her voice steady. She still looked a little pale from the sudden reality of the courthouse, but her chin was up. She was holding it together.

I walked into my office, throwing my jacket onto the leather sofa. Before I could even sit down at my desk, the door opened without a knock.

My uncle Richard walked in, a smooth, paternal smile plastered across his face. He looked entirely too relaxed for a man who was planning a corporate execution in less than two hours.

"Oliver, my boy," Richard said, closing the door behind him and strolling toward my desk. "I wanted to catch you before the chaos starts. You looked incredibly focused when you walked in just now. I assume you're preparing your defense for the board?"

"I don't need a defense, Richard," I said, leaning against the edge of my desk and crossing my arms. "The company numbers speak for themselves. The tech startup I built independently proves I know how to manage growth."

Richard let out a soft, condescending chuckle, shaking his head. "The board doesn't care about your side projects, Oliver. They care about stability here at Wyatt Enterprises. And right now, the press thinks you care more about toys than tennis matches with investors. You mentioned a surprise on the phone last night. I must admit, I'm dying to know what it is. If it's a new PR strategy, I can help you pitch it."

He was fishing, desperate to know what card I was holding so he could counter it before the meeting.

"You'll see it when the board sees it, Uncle," I said, keeping my smile completely blank. "I wouldn't want to ruin the anticipation."

Richard's smile tightened for a fraction of a second, the shark slipping through his warm facade before he recovered. "Very well. I just hope for your sake it's enough to sway them. A vote of no confidence is a very real possibility today. See you at two, nephew."

He turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat down in my chair, tapping my fingers on the desk. Originally, I had thought about introducing Elena to Richard right now, letting the shock hit him early. But no. Richard was too good at maneuvering. If I gave him two hours, he would find a way to spin it, to question the validity of the marriage, or to pull board members aside to plant seeds of doubt.

The best course of action was an ambush. I would wait until the meeting was in full swing, when Richard thought he had me cornered in front of the entire room.

At exactly two o'clock, I walked into the grand boardroom. The massive mahogany table was surrounded by the twelve members of the board, with Richard sitting prominently near the head, looking like a king in waiting.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," I began, taking my place at the head of the table. I didn't wait for them to start throwing accusations. I immediately launched into the presentation, throwing the financial metrics of the upcoming tech merger onto the large screens.

For forty-five minutes, I battled them. Every time a board member brought up the tabloid headlines or the superyacht, I hit them back with hard data, solid projections, and the sheer volume of personal capital I was investing from my own tech startup ventures.

But Richard was doing his job well. He kept subtly shifting the conversation back to "character" and "the long-term public image of the Wyatt family name."

"We appreciate the numbers, Oliver," Richard said, standing up and addressing the table with a heavy, performative sigh. "But the market responds to leadership stability. The investors are nervous about a bachelor CEO who makes impulsive headlines. Unless there is a significant shift in your personal responsibility, I'm afraid I have to agree with the committee. I call for a formal vote to—"

The heavy oak doors of the boardroom swung open.

The entire room went completely dead silent. Every single head turned toward the entrance.

Elena stood in the doorway. She had taken off her blazer, wearing just the elegant, dark dress, her hair perfectly neat. She looked entirely composed, radiating a quiet, grounded confidence that instantly commanded the room's attention. She carried no notepad, no files—she didn't look like an assistant. She looked like she belonged.

She gave a small, beautifully apologetic smile, her eyes locking directly onto mine as she stepped into the room.

"I am so sorry I'm late, dear," Elena said, her voice smooth, clear, and perfectly carrying across the silent boardroom. "The traffic near the gallery was absolute murder."

I didn't miss a beat. A massive, genuine smile broke across my face as I stood up from my chair, walking around the long table to meet her halfway.

"No need to apologize, honey," I said, my voice dripping with an uncharacteristic, warm affection that made Julian's training from last night look amateur. I reached out, taking her hand smoothly and pulling her close to my side. Her fingers were warm, and for a split second, that same strange spark from this morning flared between us, but I kept my focus locked on the audience.

I turned back to the table, looking directly at my uncle Richard, whose face had gone completely, satisfyingly pale. His jaw was practically unhinged.

"Gentlemen, and members of the board," I said, my voice booming with absolute authority as I gestured to the woman beside me. "Before my uncle finishes his speech, I believe introductions are in order. This is Elena Wyatt. My wife."