Chapter 2 - The Shattered Boardroom
Vincent Moretti stared at the dead receiver in his hand as if it had transformed into a live viper. The dial tone droned in his ear, flat and merciless. Across the sprawling conference room, high above the glittering Chicago skyline, seven senior vice presidents and three managing directors sat frozen in their leather chairs, watching their normally unflappable CEO turn as pale as chalk.
"Vincent?" Sophia Reynolds purred from two seats down, her manicured fingers resting against an open leather portfolio. She wore an ivory blazer that flattered her frame, her perfume—a heavy, sweet vanilla—drifting across the glass table. "Is something wrong with the merger documents? We really need your sign-off before the Asian markets open."
Vincent didn't look at her. His gaze remained locked on the telephone console. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, a sensation he hadn't experienced since his first hostile takeover nearly a decade ago. Child? What child? The words echoed inside his skull, loud and accusing.
"The meeting is adjourned," Vincent rasped, his voice raw.
The directors exchanged confused, uneasy glances. "Vincent, we have three minutes before Tokyo—" the chief financial officer began.
"I said get out! All of you! Out!" Vincent slammed both palms onto the table, the sharp crack echoing off the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
Stunned by the uncharacteristic outburst, the executives hastily gathered their laptops and files, practically trampling over one another to flee the room. Sophia lingered, stepping behind his chair, placing a delicate hand upon his tense shoulder.
"Vincent, darling, what did she do? Did Claire threaten to take the penthouse? I told you she was going to be vindictive. She acted calm last night just to manipulate you. Whatever she’s demanding, our legal team can crush it."
Vincent flinched away from her touch as if her skin were burning him. The sudden revulsion in his reaction startled them both. He looked at Sophia’s flawless makeup, her immaculate hair, and the pout on her lips that had seemed so captivating just twenty-four hours ago. For months, she had whispered in his ear that he was a savior, a protector, an indispensable force. She had made him feel like a hero every time he solved a crisis for her.
Yet right now, standing in the middle of his vast empire, a searing pain gripped the pit of his stomach. His hand instinctively reached for the pocket of his jacket, searching for the small plastic case that Claire always slipped inside before he left the house—the chewable antacids that kept his chronic ulcer from flaring up during high-stress negotiations.
His pocket was empty.
He reached for the side compartment of his briefcase. Empty.
"Sophia," he breathed, beads of cold sweat breaking across his forehead as the burning in his gut intensified. "Where are the white pills Dr. Aris prescribed me? The ones for acute esophageal spasms?"
Sophia blinked, her expression blank. "Pills? How would I know, Vincent? I’m your corporate strategy director, not your nurse. Can’t you just have building reception send a runner down to the nearest pharmacy?"
*I'm not your nurse.*
The words struck Vincent like a physical blow. For eight years, Claire had never once called herself his nurse. She had simply noticed the slight furrow between his brows when he skipped lunch, handed him a glass of lukewarm water before he could even ask, and memorized the exact chemical compounds that kept him functioning. She had anticipated every single weakness he hid from the world.
And this morning, when he demanded his breakfast, she had walked out the door without shedding a single tear.
"Cancel my afternoon schedule," Vincent commanded, his voice trembling as he grabbed his overcoat.
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"What? Vincent, the press release announcing our new advisory board is scheduled for three o'clock! We’re supposed to appear together!" Sophia protested, her voice turning shrill.
"Cancel it!" he roared, storming past her toward his private elevator. He didn't care about the press. He didn't care about the merger. He had to get to the penthouse. He had to look Claire in the face and tear this ridiculous custody lie to pieces with his own hands.
