Chapter 3 - The Chairman's Suite
Instead of leaving the floor as Claire had ordered, I walked calmly down the central hallway toward the executive breakroom. I poured myself a cup of plain black coffee, leaning against the marble counter as corporate executives hustled past with leather folders and tablet computers.
At 9:30 AM, the glass doors of the Chairman's suite swung open.
Alexander Montalvo stepped out. He looked immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, his hair swept back, carrying himself with the effortless arrogance of a man who believed he was untouchable. Beside him walked Claire, holding an iPad, smiling up at him with a familiarity that made my stomach turn.
"Make sure the press release goes out precisely at ten," Alexander was saying, his voice carrying down the quiet corridor. "I want the market to see that Montalvo Global is under firm, centralized control."
"Already taken care of, Alexander," Claire purred, leaning in slightly closer than professional courtesy allowed. "And don't worry about the minor staffing issues. I've handled them."
Alexander stopped in his tracks as his eyes swept past the breakroom—and landed directly on me.
He froze.
For a second, a flash of genuine panic crossed his features. His hand instinctively twitched toward his tie, his eyes widening as he recognized the woman standing by the coffee machine in a simple navy dress.
"Victoria?" he stammered, stepping away from Claire. "What... what are you doing here? You weren't supposed to be back from the European operations tour until Friday."
Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stepped up beside him. "Alexander, do you know this woman? She's been loitering on the executive floor all morning. She even forced her way into the executive elevator! I was just about to have security remove her."
Alexander turned to Claire, his face flushing dark red. "Claire, shut up!" he snapped sharply.
Claire blinked, stunned by his sudden tone. "What?"
Alexander took three quick steps toward me, lowering his voice into a tense, desperate whisper. "Victoria, please. Why didn't you call me? You shouldn't be wandering around the floor without an escort."
I took a slow sip of my coffee, looking at him with a calmness that clearly terrified him far more than an outburst would have. "I don't need an escort in my own company, Alexander."
"Your company?" Claire interjected, letting out a sharp laugh. "Alexander, who is this woman? Is she one of the regional facility managers?"
Alexander turned to Claire, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw muscles twitched. "Claire, this is Victoria Montalvo. My wife."
The hallway went completely, utterly silent.
Two vice presidents standing near the water dispenser stopped mid-sentence. A secretary dropped a folder, sending papers skittering across the floor.
Claire's face went from smug superiority to a chalky, sickly pale in less than two seconds. Her eyes darted from my face to my simple dress, then to my unbranded handbag, and finally down to her own wrist—where the white ceramic limited-edition watch gleamed under the halogen lights.
"Wife?" Claire stammered, her voice squeaking. "She... she doesn't... you said your wife was living in Europe managing factory contracts..."
"I manage the entire operational grid of this company, Ms. Reynolds," I said smoothly, taking a step toward her. "Including the supply chains, the global logistics, and the capital expenditure budgets."
I paused, letting my gaze drop down to her wrist.
"Nice watch," I said softly.
Claire instinctively pulled her sleeve down to cover the timepiece, her fingers trembling. "I... Mr. Montalvo gave this to me as a performance bonus..."
"Did he?" I asked, looking up at Alexander, whose face had drained of all color. "That's strange, Alexander. Because when I had the boutique in Chicago reserve that watch, you told me it was a custom birthday gift for your mother."
Alexander swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Victoria, listen to me. It's not what you think. The delivery got mixed up, and—"
"A thirty-thousand-dollar limited-edition watch with custom serial numbers got 'mixed up' between your seventy-year-old mother and your twenty-six-year-old secretary?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Victoria, please, let's step into my office and discuss this privately," Alexander pleaded, reaching out to touch my arm.
I stepped back, avoiding his hand completely.
"No, Alexander," I said, checking my phone. The clock read 9:50 AM. "We have a meeting in ten minutes. Boardroom A."
"The board meeting is a private executive session," Alexander said quickly, trying to regain a shred of his authoritative posture. "It's just for C-suite officers and major shareholders. You don't need to sit through financial updates after a long flight."
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I smiled at him—a cold, sharp smile that sent a visible shiver down his spine.
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this meeting for the world, Alexander," I said quietly. "After all, the board is making a very special announcement at 10:00 AM."
