The polished marble floors of the Moretti Holdings lobby usually echoed with the frantic energy of morning business, but today, a suffocating silence had fallen. Employees in tailored suits froze near the dark stone reception desk, their eyes locked on the tableau unfolding before the brass elevator doors. Claire Bennett Moretti stood with absolute stillness, her pale-blue long-sleeved dress contrasting with the cold, corporate environment. Her long, wavy blonde hair was pinned elegantly into a braided crown, and a white quilted handbag hung from a gold chain on her shoulder. She gripped the handles of two silver suitcases. Opposite her stood her husband, Vincent. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, he wore a gray button-up shirt with rolled sleeves, his dark wavy hair slightly disheveled. Just behind him, wearing a fitted burgundy blazer dress, was Sophia Carter.
Claire stopped the suitcases in front of him.
“You told the entire company?” Vincent asked, his voice low, struggling to maintain his composure under the weight of a dozen watching eyes.
Claire held his gaze. She didn’t raise her voice, but her words sliced through the quiet lobby. “Five nights, Vincent.”
Sophia stepped closer, her fingers tightening slightly around Vincent’s sleeve. “It was work,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound desperate.
Claire didn’t turn her head, but her eyes shifted briefly toward the brunette. “Then keep his luggage.”
The heavy glass doors of the lobby spun, depositing Claire into the biting wind of the Chicago morning. She didn’t look back. Inside, the silence shattered into a million whispers. Vincent stood frozen, staring at the twin silver monoliths at his feet.
“Vincent, we have to go upstairs,” Sophia urged, her grip on his arm becoming frantic. “People are staring. You’re the CEO, you can’t be seen like this.”
He jerked his arm away, his eyes blazing. “Did you hear what she said? She knows about my father.”
“She’s bluffing,” Sophia insisted, glancing around at the staff who were hastily pretending to check their phones. “Julian would never bypass you to speak to her. It makes no sense.”
“You don’t know my father,” Vincent muttered, grabbing the handles of the suitcases. They felt like lead. “Get to your office, Sophia. Do not speak to anyone.”
“Vincent, please—”
The ringtone echoed in the cavernous office. Vincent stared at it, his chest tightening. He answered on the fourth ring.
“I hear you had a delivery in the lobby this morning,” Julian’s voice rasped through the speaker, devoid of any paternal warmth.
“You called her,” Vincent stated, skipping the formalities. “Claire said you called her first. Why?”
“Someone had to inform my daughter-in-law of her husband’s indiscretions before it leaked to the press,” Julian replied smoothly. “A scandal with a subordinate? Really, Vincent. I expected better discretion.”
“Sophia is the VP of Acquisitions, not a secretary, and you had no right to interfere with my marriage!” Vincent yelled, slamming his hand against the glass desk.
“I have every right to protect the company,” Julian countered, his tone turning into cold steel. “Claire’s family holds twenty percent of the voting shares. If she divorces you, she takes that proxy with her. And if she takes it, the board will have my head—and yours.”
“It was five nights in London,” Vincent said, pacing the room. “It was a mistake. I can fix it with Claire.”
Across town, Claire sat in a private booth at a dimly lit, exclusive speakeasy that opened early only for its most elite members. She sipped a sparkling water, her posture perfect, her face an unreadable mask. Across from her sat Marcus Vance, a ruthless corporate attorney known for dismantling empires.
“That was quite the theatrical exit,” Marcus noted, reviewing a file on the table. “My sources inside Moretti Holdings say the lobby footage is already circulating on encrypted chats.”
“Let them talk,” Claire said softly, setting her glass down. “It was necessary to establish the narrative. Vincent needs to feel the pressure publicly before he feels it legally.”
“And the father?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. “Julian reached out to you. That was unexpected.”
“Julian thinks he’s using me to keep Vincent in line,” Claire smiled, a cold, sharp movement. “He told me about London because he wants me to threaten a divorce so he can leverage it over Vincent. He wants his son terrified of losing the CEO title.”
“So you played into his hand?”
“No, Marcus. I played him,” Claire corrected. “Julian gave me the ammunition. Now I’m going to shoot them both. Are the Cayman accounts verified?”
Sophia locked the door to her office, her hands shaking violently. She pulled her phone from her black quilted handbag and dialed a number she had sworn never to use during business hours.
“It’s a disaster,” she hissed into the receiver as soon as it connected. “She brought his luggage to the lobby. The whole company saw.”
“Calm down, Sophia,” a smooth, calm voice replied. “This is exactly what we anticipated. A public spectacle.”
“You said Claire would quietly leave him!” Sophia argued, pacing her office. “You didn’t say she would humiliate him in front of the board members. Julian is going to execute him, and he’ll drag me down with him.”
“Julian is old and losing his grip,” the voice reasoned. “Vincent is distracted. This is the perfect time for the acquisition. You just need to keep Vincent trusting you. Keep him isolated from Claire.”
“That’s not going to be hard,” Sophia scoffed. “She practically threw him away.”
“Don’t underestimate Claire Bennett,” the voice warned. “She was raised by sharks. Keep your eyes on her proxy votes. If we can get Vincent to transfer his shares to you before the divorce…”
