A New Hire

Desmond's POV

Power didn't make life quieter. It simply made the surrounding whispers louder and more dangerous.

I stepped out of the executive elevator at eight o'clock sharp. The moment I entered the floor, the low murmurs among the staff ceased immediately.

Department heads suddenly found their tablets fascinating, while secretaries sat up straighter. Everyone had read the news. Everyone knew who was stepping onto the floor today.

Claire fell into step beside me, her tablet held tightly against her chest as we walked toward my office.

"Morning briefing, Claire," I commanded smoothly.

"You have the executive strategy session at nine, the investor luncheon at noon, and a legal review at three," she reported concisely. "Also... Miss Sander arrived thirty minutes early. She is currently in the main conference room."

I paused briefly, turning my head slightly. "Thirty minutes early?"

"She said she refused to give anyone an excuse to call her unprofessional," Claire noted, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

I kept my expression neutral. "Understood," I said and made my way to the conference room.

When I pushed open the conference room doors for the nine o'clock briefing, my senior directors were already seated around the long table.

Cleopatra sat near the end. She wore a simple cream blouse under a structured gray blazer. She looked composed and completely unfazed by the glares directed at her.

The moment our eyes met, she stood up. "Good morning, Mr. Walton."

"Miss Sander," I acknowledged flatly. "You're welcome to Walton Global."

I turned to the room, addressing the executives. "Before we begin, as of today, Cleopatra Sander will be serving as my financial manager. You will direct all financial requests through her."

A silence fell over the room, followed by subtle, mocking side-eyes between two department directors across from Cleopatra.

"I guess pretty faces really do get second chances," one director muttered under his breath to his colleague.

"I heard she begged for the job," the other whispered back.

They hadn't whispered enough. I saw Cleopatra’s shoulders stiffen slightly, but her face remained entirely calm.

Before I could address the directors, the glass doors opened. Victoria Kessel walked into the room unannounced. She was dressed in an immaculate designer dress, carrying herself with elegance. She offered me a warm, practiced smile.

"Desmond, darling," Victoria said smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Victoria," I said, keeping my tone strictly professional. "We are about to start a board meeting."

Victoria’s eyes drifted toward the end of the table, landing on Cleopatra. A slow, condescending smile spread across her lips.

"Oh, look at this," Victoria purred, stepping closer to Cleopatra. "I almost didn't recognize you without the white dress and the tears."

Cleopatra met her icy gaze without flinching.

"My deepest condolences about the wedding," Victoria added, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "It must be terrible, becoming the country's most famous abandoned bride."

A few executives let out suppressed chuckles. We clearly expected Cleopatra to look down, embarrassed.

Instead, Cleopatra offered Victoria a polite, serene smile. "Thank you."

Victoria blinked, caught off guard. "I beg your pardon?"

Cleopatra folded her hands neatly on the table. "I said thank you. It takes a great deal of courage to survive public humiliation, but I imagine it takes very little effort to stand there hiding behind inherited wealth while insulting strangers."

The conference room went dead silent.

I pulled my folder up slightly to hide the faint smirk threatening to break my professional composure.

Victoria's smile vanished instantly. Her face flushed with rage as she whipped around to look at me. "Desmond! Are you going to let your staff speak to me like that?"

"You walked into a private briefing to launch personal insults, Victoria," I replied coolly, looking up from my papers. "Miss Sander answered your comment. Let us stick to business."

Victoria glared at me, then back at Cleopatra. "You hired a liability," she spat, before turning on her high heels and storming out of the room, slamming the glass door behind her.

The executives sat in stunned silence. I turned my attention back to Cleopatra.

"You just made a powerful enemy," I noted calmly.

Cleopatra didn't blink. "I already had powerful enemies, Mr. Walton. One more makes no difference."

"You could have ignored her."

"Bullies only grow bolder when you remain silent," she countered cleanly. "Now, shall we start the meeting?"

Over the next three hours, Cleopatra proved remarkably efficient. She tracked every financial metric presented and took immaculate notes.

By three o’clock, the executive floor had quieted down.

I walked toward the office, intending to review the quarterly liquidity projections with Cleopatra Sander. As I approached her glass-walled office, I noticed her screen go dark almost instantly. She had minimized something the moment she realized I was standing in the doorway.

She looked up with her usual composed expression, but there was the briefest hesitation before she spoke.

“Mr. Walton.”

“Who approved the transfer of two hundred million from the reserve allocation into the acquisition holding account?” I asked.

“I did,” Cleopatra replied calmly. “Keeping the funds where they were would’ve cost the company millions by the end of the week.”

“I didn’t authorize that transfer,” I said.

“You hired me to protect the company’s finances, Mr. Walton,” she said evenly. “Waiting for your signature isn’t always practical.”

I stepped farther into the office, my eyes drifting toward the monitor she had just locked. “What were you working on before I came in?”

“Nothing that concerns this conversation.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, without another word, Cleopatra closed her laptop, gathered several folders into her briefcase, and powered down her workstation far more quickly than usual.

“I’ve finished everything I needed to do today,” she said, slipping the strap of the bag over her shoulder.

“It’s only three,” I said, glancing at my watch.

“I’ll continue tomorrow.”

Something about the exchange didn’t sit right.

Before I could question her further, she walked past me and headed for the elevators without looking back.

I was left alone in the office when my phone rang. It was my chief of cybersecurity.

“Mr. Walton, we have a problem,” he said, his voice tense.

“What happened?” I inquired.

“Ten minutes ago, someone gained unauthorized access to our restricted corporate vault using an internal employee credential.”

My expression hardened. “Whose credential?”

There was a brief silence before he answered.

“We traced the digital signature, sir. The access originated from Cleopatra Sander’s terminal.”