The Board

Dominic showed up at eight-fifty the next morning, which meant he'd been in the lobby for at least ten minutes, too proud to be early.

Elena answered the door in jeans and a sweater. The dress was hanging in the closet, untouched except for the thirty seconds she'd worn it before feeling like a traitor to herself.

"You didn't wear it," Dominic said, looking her over.

"Good morning to you too."

"We have a meeting with the board at ten. That's not appropriate attire."

"Then it's lucky I'm not coming to your meeting."

Something flickered across his face. Annoyance, maybe. Or respect.

"We need to present a united front. Show them the marriage is legitimate."

"We're not married."

"Not yet."

Elena leaned against the doorframe. "I read my father's letter."

"And?"

"And I'm starting to understand why he left."

Dominic's jaw tightened. "Marcus was weak. He couldn't handle the pressure."

"He was human. There's a difference."

"In this family? No, there isn't." He moved past her into the suite without being invited. "Being human gets you crushed."

"Is that what happened to you?"

He turned to look at her. He truly examined her for the first time since their meeting. "What do you mean?"

"You said your grandmother was disappointed in you. "You said you spent fifteen years proving you deserved the inheritance. What were you proving?"

"That I wasn't my father."

The words came out flat. Empty of everything except old pain.

Elena closed the door. "What's wrong with your father?"

"Nothing. Everything. He's a drunk who never lived up to Victoria's expectations. She built an empire, and he built a bar tab." Dominic walked to the window, putting distance between them. "I was thirteen when she put me in charge of my first property. A small hotel in Vermont, actually. Millbrook."

Elena's breath caught.

"You were in Millbrook?"

"For six months. Victoria wanted me to turn the property around or sell it. "I made the property profitable within four months." He didn't say it like a brag. More like a confession. "Then she gave me another property. And another. By the time I was twenty-five, I was running half the collection. By the age of thirty, I had accumulated all of it.

"And your father?"

"Hasn't worked in twenty years."

Elena thought about her father's letter. About the car and the tree and the pressure that never stopped.

"So you're terrified of being weak like him," she said softly. "And I'm terrified of being crushed like my dad."

"I'm not terrified of anything."

"Liar."

He looked at her then, and Elena saw it clearly: the boy under the CEO. The thirteen-year-old who was trying to save a hotel to prove he mattered.

"I'm not weak," he said.

"I know."

"And I won't lose this inheritance to someone who showed up out of nowhere."

"I know that too."

They stood there, separated by twenty feet and a lifetime of different damage.

"Here's my offer," Elena said. "I'll marry you. One year, like the will says. But we split everything fifty-fifty, and you give me complete autonomy over how I use my half."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Save my town. Reopen the mill. Create jobs. Actually help people instead of hoarding it."

"That's naive."

"That's human."

"It won't work. You'll burn through it in five years and have nothing left."

"Then that's my mistake to make."

Dominic studied her. "Fifty-fifty split. Full autonomy. But you attend every board meeting, every company event, and every appearance where we need to look legitimate."

"Fine."

"And you sign a prenup saying you won't contest the division."

"Fine."

"And we tell no one this is fake. Not your mother, not the board, not anyone."

Elena hesitated. "Why?"

"Because if Victoria's lawyers think we're gaming the system, they'll invoke the failure clause, and we both lose everything. This has to be real. Or real enough."

"For a year."

"For a year."

Elena held out her hand. "Deal."

He looked at it for a long moment. Then he took it.

His hand was warm. Calloused. The handshake lasted three seconds too long.

"I'll send a car at nine-thirty," he said, pulling back. "Wear the dress."

"I'm not—"

"Elena." He moved closer, and she fought the urge to retreat. "You just inherited a three-billion-dollar empire. The board is going to look for any excuse to challenge your legitimacy. Your attire, education, and background will all be scrutinized. They're going to try to prove you're not good enough. So when you walk into that room, you need to look like you belong."

"I don't belong in your world."

"Not yet. But you will."

He left before she could argue.

Elena looked at the dress in the closet. She looked in the mirror at the Millbrook girl who was about to change.

She put on the dress.

The car was a black town car with a driver who called her "Ms. Castellano" and didn't make small talk. They drove through Manhattan in silence while Elena tried not to throw up.

The Ashford Collection headquarters took up an entire building near Bryant Park. All glass and steel and intimidation.

Dominic met her in the lobby. He'd changed into a different suit—charcoal instead of black—and he looked her over with an expression she couldn't read.

"Good," he finally said. "You look like money."

"How comforting."

"It should be. Money is the only language they understand."

They took a private elevator to the twentieth floor. Executive offices. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Everything was white and chrome and cold.

The conference room was full of people in expensive suits who all turned to stare when Elena walked in.

"Gentlemen," Dominic said. "This is Elena Castellano, Victoria's granddaughter."

A man with a bulldog-like face, sixty and white, leaned back in his chair at the head of the table.

"The illegitimate granddaughter."

"Careful, Richard." Dominic's voice went sharp. "You're talking about my fiancée."

The room went silent.

Richard—Dominic's father, Elena realized—smiled. It wasn't friendly. "Fiancée? How convenient. Victoria dies, leaves an impossible will, and suddenly you two are in love?"

"We're practical," Dominic said. "Unlike some people."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Richard looked at Elena. "Tell me, sweetheart, what do you know about running a hotel empire?"

"Nothing," Elena said. "But I'm a quick learner."

"She teaches art," another board member said. He was younger, sharp-featured, with eyes that missed nothing. "High school art. Still lifes and finger painting."

"And you are?" Elena asked.

"James Peterson, CFO." He slid a folder across the table. "This is the quarterly report. Maybe you could explain what EBITDA stands for?"

Elena didn't know. Everyone in the room knew that she didn't know.

"Earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation, and amortization," Dominic said calmly. "But Elena won't need to know that. She's an owner, not an operator. That's what we hire people like you for, James."

"She's an owner who has the potential to destroy this company with a single poor decision."

"An owner who controls fifty-one percent," Dominic corrected. "Between her father's shares and what Victoria left her directly. Which means she could fire every person in this room without a second vote."

The silence that followed was violent.

"That's not what I want," Elena said quickly.

"Isn't it?" Richard leaned forward. "You show up, wave some letters around, claim to be family, and expect us to just hand over control?"

"I didn't claim anything. Your mother left me—"

"My mother was losing her mind at the end. The will is invalid."

"The will was reviewed by six lawyers," Dominic said. "It's airtight."

"We'll see what the judge says."

Elena's stomach dropped. "You're contesting it?"

"Damn right I am. You're not family. You're a con artist."

"Dad." Dominic's voice had gone cold. "Shut up."

"Don't you dare—"

"Shut. Up." Dominic turned to the room. "Anyone who wants to challenge the will can join my father in legal hell. It'll take three years, cost millions, and you'll lose. Or you can accept that Elena is my grandmother's heir, show her the respect she deserves, and keep your jobs."

"You can't fire us," James said.

"Actually, combined, Elena and I control seventy-three percent of the shares. We can absolutely fire you." Dominic smiled. It was terrifying. "So let's try this again. Elena, this is the board. Board, this is Elena. You work for her now. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Good." Dominic pulled out a chair for Elena. "Sit. You're about to learn how to run a hotel empire."

Elena sat.