LOGINMorana’s POV
Xavier mentioned the gala the same way he mentioned everything he didn’t want me involved in which was right before leaving the room. It seems like he wanted to take his LEGAL wife to go there. “It’s a pharmaceutical fundraiser and too formal. You’d be bored.” He adjusted his cufflinks without looking up. “Stay in and rest this morning if you want.” Across the table Iris was already dressed in deep green silk with her hair pinned perfectly. She didn’t look at me and it seems like these days she’s got something up her belt. “Of course. You’re probably right.” I muttered my eyes back on him. Xavier’s shoulders relaxed slightly but enough for me to actually see it. I need to know what is going on. He kissed my forehead and they left together. Aiden stayed with his nanny upstairs and the house went quiet. I sat there for exactly three minutes before my plans got the best in me. I went upstairs to learn more about this gala. I didn’t touch the Greene side of my wardrobe. I went back to the past, the careful ordinary life I’d constructed and maintained for five years. My fingers found the garment bag I hadn’t opened since the night I became Morana Greene. The dress still fits perfectly. I’d bought it for a Mortaine board dinner five years ago and never wore it because I met with the accident that led me to Xavier. It is rhe kind of dress that didn’t ask for a room’s attention but took it. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment and smiled at myself. There she was! Morana Mortaine that has stacked her degrees and awards in a drawer and lock it five years ago. I picked up my clutch and left. The hotel was exactly what I expected, which was that particular kind of quiet that money buys. Two security personnel stood at the entrance with tablets and practiced smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. “Name please.” “Morana Mortaine.” It sounded so strange coming out of my mouth and I almost feared Xavier or Iris would show up behind me and hear me say that. I haven’t used that name for five years that it starts not to feel like mine. The smile on the security guard stayed but something shifted behind it as he scrolled. He doesn’t believe I am Morana Mortaine. It’s clear as day on his face. “I’m sorry ma’am. I don’t see that name on the list.” “Check again.” “I have.” He said it gently like he’d done this before. “I’m afraid if you’re not registered—” “I’m aware of how lists work. Check again.” I kept my voice even. Felix said he was going to add my name to the list and would be here too. Except if for the first time he’s failed at his job, this shouldn’t be the issue. Mortaine is a name that makes people shake in their boots in America. He exchanged a brief glance with his colleague then looked back at his tablet with the expression of someone who had made a decision. “Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to step aside.” Step aside? I didn’t move immediately and behind me I heard the soft click of heels as two women approached the entrance, laughing at something. They stopped when they saw the situation. I felt their gaze sweep over me the way people assess a problem that doesn’t concern them. One of them murmured something to the other. I caught the word embarrassing before their names were found immediately on the list and they walked inside without looking back. I stood there thinking how five years ago this would have destroyed my image. But five years ago, this would never have happened because everybody knows me. “That’s alright Jacob.” The voice came from somewhere behind the security and it was gruff and completely unbothered. The kind of voice that didn’t need volume because every room it entered already belonged to it. Both security personnel straightened immediately and I looked up. My eyes trailed from his limited edition wrist watch to his tall muscled physique and knew who it was. There was this air around him that screams it. He was taller than I expected in a dark suit without tie. The kind of man who got dressed in thirty seconds and still made everyone else feel underdressed. His eyes found mine across the entrance and something in his expression shifted. He doesn’t look surprised, he recognized me. “Sir she’s not on the—” Jacob started. “I know who she is.” He said it without looking away from me. “Let her in.” Marcus stepped aside immediately. Tristan Rothschild walked toward me and stopped at a distance that was close enough to be a mistake. His eyes moved once across my face then back up. “You came alone.” It wasn’t a question. “I usually do.” I said. Something crossed his expression like amusement but not a smile. “Morana Mortaine.” He said my name like he’d said it before in private setting. “You already knew.” I said. “I’ve known for years.” His voice was even. “I was wondering how long it would take you to find me.” The noise of the gala continued around us like we weren’t standing in the middle of it having a conversation that was rewriting everything. I held his gaze and didn’t blink. “Then you know why I’m here.” “Five years off the grid and you walk into a pharmaceutical gala in a dress that costs more than most people’s quarterly salary.” “I wasn’t off the grid. I was busy.” I answered looking him dead in the eyes. “Married.” His eyes dropped briefly to my hand on the hideous ring Xavier put there. “To Xavier Lancaster.” The way he said Xavier’s name was flat with something underneath that intrigued me fast. “You’ve done your research.” I said. “It’s what I do.” He tilted his head slightly. “The question is what you’re doing here tonight alone. Without him knowing.” I held his gaze and didn’t answer immediately. Let him sit in the silence for a beat because men like Tristan Rothschild were used to rooms that rushed to fill the quiet for them. I didn’t rush to do his bidding. “You’ve been watching Mortaine.” I finally said. “Mortaine has been worth watching.” “And Vance?” “Your brother is ambitious.” He said carefully. “He’s not my brother.” The words came out quieter than I intended. “And you know exactly what he’s been doing to my company.” “We should talk somewhere private.” He gave a sharp nod that made me almost move but stopped. “I don’t follow men into private rooms based on three minutes of conversation. You want to talk you can start here. Convince me you’re worth my time.” I tilted my head. He stared at me for a long moment then something in his expression changed. “Xavier Lancaster has been running illegal pharmaceutical trials using a blood compound that doesn’t belong to him. I’ve been building a case against him for eight months. I’m three weeks from having enough to take it to the board of health authority.” He paused his eyes sweeping over me. “And I’m missing one thing.” “What?” “The source.” His eyes stayed on mine. “The person whose blood he’s been using. Their testimony.” “Come.” He said again but with less command and more something else entirely. I looked at him for another moment then followed.Tristan’s LOVI watched it happen and filed it. The warmth she’d deployed without calculating it. The way she’d given the girl something real instead of something performed. There’s more depth to Moran that I thought about. The requirement to become better than me delivered like it was the most natural expectation in the world. She’d been doing that her whole career. Raising the ceiling for everyone who came after her without making it about herself. She already said it around a decade ago that she wants girl children not to be scared of becoming CEOs. I’d known that from the 2017 newspaper clipping. From watching her present at a conference in 2018. From following the arc of a career that kept reshaping the field it moved through.Knowing it and watching it happen two feet away were different things.We walked back through the park with the light getting lower and the temperature dropping slightly. She pulled her coat tighter and I reached over and took her hand. Didn’t look at he
Tristan’s POVSaturday arrived with no agenda and I didn’t know what to do with that. No board meetings or Reid appearing with updates or case files requiring immediate decisions. No Xavier doing something that required a counter move. Just the penthouse and grey morning light and Morana’s alarm going off at eight which she ignored for twenty minutes. And then she got up anyway because she was constitutionally incapable of sleeping past a certain point regardless of how late she’d been up.I was already at the island with coffee when she appeared from the bedroom in the oversized shirt she’d been systematically stealing from my wardrobe. Her hair doing something that suggested she’d tried to put it up and changed her mind halfway. “I want to cook something” she said.“Okay.”“Something that takes time. With actual steps.”“The kitchen is there.” I pointed, hiding back a smile.She moved into it like she owned it which she increasingly did. Within fifteen minutes there was flour on
Morana’s POVThe journalist’s name was Diana Park and she’d been at the Times for twelve years. She sat across from me in a private room at the Mortaine offices with her recorder on the table between us. I’ve read her last six profiles before agreeing to this. She was precise and fair . She didn’t editorialize and she didn’t flatter and she didn’t let people hide behind careful language. She asked what she wanted to know and she waited until she got it.Good. I didn’t want to be flattered. I wanted to be heard accurately.She started with the company. Research division restructuring, patent pipeline and stuff. Then we moved to where I saw Mortaine in five years. Safe territory covered thoroughly. She asked smart questions and I gave her real answers because vague answers in the Times looked like someone managing a narrative. I wasn’t managing anything. I was just telling the truth.“Five years is a long time to be away from an industry you were reshaping. People assumed you’d left p
Tristan’s POVMy press conference was at Rothschild headquarters. The floor-to-ceiling windows were behind me showing Manhattan because context mattered.The room was full and way more than I’d expected. Financial journalists. Industry publications. Three television cameras I hadn’t requested but had anticipated. People who’d been covering Rothschild Pharma for years and people who’d never covered us before today but were here because Xavier Lancaster had attached our name to a headline.I stood at the front without a podium because podiums created distance and I didn’t need distance. I needed them to hear me clearly. I didn’t have notes.Reid had offered to prepare talking points and I’d declined because talking points were for people who needed reminding of what they believed. I didn’t need reminding.The room settled as cameras focused. I looked at the room for exactly three seconds before speaking. Long enough that everyone understood I wasn’t rushing. “Rothschild Pharma has oper
MoranaI saw the alert come through before I’d finished my first coffee. Felix sent it in the morning with no commentary which meant it was bad enough that even he didn’t have a joke ready. Xavier Lancaster had filed a civil claim against Rothschild Pharma. Improper acquisition practices. Using a marital relationship with a pharmaceutical heir to gain unfair competitive advantage in the sector.I read it twice. Then I read the financial press coverage that had already started running because the financial press never slept and bad news moved faster than anything else.The allegation was vague. Xavier’s lawyers had written something that any competent judge would eventually dismiss and that every financial publication in America would run before that happened.I got dressed in a Chanel suit and put my hair up. The board meeting felt different the moment I walked in.Gerald was already seated and he had his phone face down on the table which meant he’d been reading something he didn’t
Morana’s POVThe villa packed up faster than it should have. Five days of pretending the real world didn’t exist and suddenly the real world was in the car waiting.I took one last photograph from the terrace before we left. The pool. The water beyond it. The lemon trees doing their thing in the morning light. Posted it with a single word.Goodbye.The comments were immediate and dramatic in the way the internet was dramatic about everything.-she said goodbye like she’s leaving a person not a location-morana mortaine and italy had a situationship and she just ended it-the way i felt that goodbye personallyI put my phone in my bag and didn’t look at it again until we were airborne. The private terminal on the Italian side was smaller than JFK but operated on the same principle. No lines or announcements. Just efficiency dressed up in good furniture.Someone photographed us leaving the villa. Then again at the terminal. By the time we boarded the photos were already circulating with
Morana’s POVThe helicopter thing happened because of traffic. That’s what Tristan said anyway. Traffic was bad on the LIE and he had a dinner in the Hamptons. So apparently when you were Tristan Rothschild the correct response to traffic was a single phone call and a helicopter waiting on a midto
Morana’s POVI found out I was trending on a Tuesday when Felix called me mid meeting and I declined it and he immediately texted: pick up your phone morana mortaine dot com is trending on twitter I am not joking.I excused myself from the meeting because he won’t pressure me if it’s not serious. I
Tristan’s POVThe file had been in the bottom drawer of my private office cabinet since 2019. Before that it lived in a locked box in my apartment. Before that it was just a folder on my laptop that I told myself was competitive research.Reid found it while reorganizing the cabinet Thursday mornin
Morana’s POVMonday morning I wore the Bottega Veneta suit. The deep brown one that made my shoulders look broader and my waist look smaller and my whole existence look like a threat. Heels that clicked against marble with authority I’d spent five years suppressing.I walked into Mortaine Patent at







