SHE WAS HIS WIFE. NOW SHE'S HIS CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

_Day 5 - Evening to Day 6 - Morning_*7:00pm | Voss Capital Group, 88th Floor*The sun was dying over the city and Adrian Voss watched it bleed out through the glass.He didn’t sit in chairs. Not unless he had to. He stood. Always. Like standing was a way of reminding the room who owned it. Black shirt, sleeves rolled once. The scar over his eyebrow caught the last bit of light and made it look worse than it was.Behind him, Damien didn’t move. Damien had been Adrian’s PA for 8 years. He’d followed Adrian into buildings that didn’t have exits and out of deals that should’ve gotten them both killed. He was 6’3, built like a wall, and he spoke maybe 20 words a day. But he was always there. Two steps back. Always.The door opened without a knock. Clara. She was Adrian’s secretary. 35. Sharp bob. Tablet always in her hand. She’d learned in her first month that Adrian didn’t like noise. So she didn’t make any.“Mr. Voss,” Clara said.Adrian didn’t turn. “Report.”His voice was low. It d

*3 Days Before | Carter Holdings, 40th Floor* The invitation was thick. Black card. Gold foil. _BLACKWOOD FOUNDATION GALA THEME: LEGACY HOST: SOPHIA BLACKWOOD_ Elena dropped it on the table. Maya picked it up. “You’re going?” Elena looked at it. she said. “What do you think?.” Ryan stepped forward. “Ma’am. Guest list just came in. 300 people. Blackwood board. City council. Press.” Elena: “Adrian?” Ryan: “Not on the list. But Voss Capital has a table.” Elena nodded. “Who else,” she asked. “Victoria Hayes,” Maya said. “And... Sophia.” Elena didn’t react. Ryan: “Security says it’s at Grand Hall. 8pm. Saturday.” Elena walked to the window. “Get me the dress book,” she said. “Laurent.” Ryan: “Yes, ma’am.” --- *2 Days Before | Fitting Room, Laurent Flagship* Three dresses. All black. The tailor: “This one is new. One shoulder. Slit.” Elena touched the fabric. Maya: “It’s too much.” Elena: “It’s perfect.” Ryan stood by the door. Phone

*Tuesday | 11:00 am | The Grand Peninsula Hotel, Private Tea Room*The Grand Peninsula had always been Victoria Hayes's territory. It was where she had hosted baby showers and engagement parties and the kind of charity luncheons that made the society pages for a week. The walls were covered in pale silk and old paintings of women who looked like they had never been told no, and the tea was served in porcelain so thin you could see your fingers through it if you held it to the light.Elena walked in at exactly 11 am because she was never late to anything, especially not to something she didn’t want to attend. Victoria was already seated. She looked like a woman who had not slept, but who had still spent an hour having her hair and makeup done so no one would know. Her suit was cream. Her pearls were real. Her hands were wrapped around a teacup like it was the only thing keeping her steady.“Elena,” Victoria said. Her voice was soft in the way that people use when they are trying not

*Thursday | 9:00am | Carter Holdings, Legal Floor*The papers were spread across the conference table like evidence at a crime scene, which in many ways they were. Contracts, wire transfers, property deeds, all of them stamped and signed and sealed under a foundation name that no one in this room would recognize unless Elena told them to. Maya stood at the head of the table. “The Carter Women’s Foundation is officially funded,” she said. “50 million. Transferred last night. The shelter in Queens gets the first 10. They can open next month.”Elena didn’t look up from the document she was reading. “Anonymous?”Maya: “Completely. The donation is under ‘A Benefactor.’ No names. No press release. No photo op.”Legal: “If this ever gets traced back to you during the Blackwood proceedings, opposing counsel will argue it’s reputation management.”Elena finally looked up. “Let them argue it. I’m not doing it for the court. I’m doing it because there was a time when I had nowhere to go, and I

*Friday | 9:00am | Manhattan Supreme Court, Room 217 - DAY 13 OF 12* The courtroom was full in the way that rooms get full when everyone knows something is about to end. Lawyers in the front. Press in the back. Investors in the middle pretending they weren’t sweating through their shirts. The air smelled like wood and paper and fear. Elena sat on the left. Black suit. Hands folded. She wasn’t looking at Sophia. She wasn’t looking at anyone. She was looking at Judge Eleanor Whitmore’s bench like she could make time move faster by staring at it. Maya was beside her, with a stack of files that had been read and reread until the corners were soft. Across the aisle, Sophia sat with her father and her legal team. Sophia looked like she had aged 5 years in 12 days. Her dress was navy, her hair was pulled back, and her hands were gripping each other so tightly her knuckles were white. Because twelve days ago Judge Whitmore had given her one last chance. Pay the remaining $5,000