The Boardroom –
The next morning, I walked into the boardroom at 9:55 for the Harrington call.
Vance was already there, standing at the head of the table, on the phone.
He looked up when I entered.
His eyes were clear, sharp, professional.
No trace of yesterday’s stunned silence.
He pointed to the seat beside him.
I sat.
The call began at ten sharp.
Harrington’s face filled the screen, along with six of his board members.
I presented the data, clean and confident.
I answered their questions.
I didn’t look at Vance once.
Halfway through, Harrington asked a sharp question about risk margins.
I started to answer, but Vance cut in.
“The risk is calculated and contained,” he said smoothly.
“Ms. Sullivan’s projections account for a twenty percent market fluctuation. We’ve stress-tested it.”
He was covering for me.
The numbers were solid, but he was adding his authority to mine.
A quiet show of support.
A return to partnership.
After the call ended, the room emptied.
Vance remained seated, scrolling through his phone.
“You handled that well,” he said without looking up.
“Thank you.”
Vance gathered his belongings, his face unreadable.
“Friday.
The Zenith merger party.
Be ready at six.
A car will take you to the salon.”
”Salon?”
”You’ll be prepared.
Dressed.
Styled.
It’s included in the plan.” His tone left no room for questions.
“Wear the lipstick. The same shade.”
He walked away.
I stood in the empty boardroom.
In my clutch was the tube of Vintage Crimson.
I pulled it out.
The bullet of color looked different now.
It wasn’t just a shade.
It was the color of a boundary crossed, of a human moment turned into a tactic.
I snapped the cap back on.
The click echoed in the silent room.
I would wear it.
But now I knew it was a uniform, and putting it on felt like agreeing to a war where I might not recognize the soldier I was becoming.
– The Party –
Friday arrived. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
At exactly six, a town car picked me up from the office.
It took me to a salon so exclusive it had no sign.
A woman named Colette met me inside.
She had careful hands and a quiet voice.
“Mr. Blackwood’s instructions,” she said, guiding me to a chair.
For two hours, I was curated.
My hair was wound into a smooth, elegant knot.
My makeup was sharp, professional, but with a bold red lip.
Vintage Crimson.
The dress was brought out, a simple, severe black gown that felt like armor.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see myself.
I saw the woman Vance needed me to be for tonight.
My phone buzzed in my clutch.
Zane.
Again.
I didn’t answer.
Another text came through.
Zane: Where are you?
We need to talk.
I silenced my phone.
At 7:30, the car returned.
Colette nodded, satisfied.
“He’s waiting.”
Vance was in the back seat when I slid in.
He looked at me, his gaze traveling from my hair to the dress to my lips.
He didn’t smile.
He just gave a short, approving nod.
“You look the part.”
”That’s the idea,” I said.
The car moved into traffic.
We didn’t speak.
The city lights slid past the windows.
“Harrington will be there,” Vance said finally.
“Stay close.
This is still business.”
”I know.”
We arrived at the venue, a modern glass building lit up against the night.
Photographers lined the red carpet.
Vance got out first, then offered me his hand.
I took it.
I felt his finger twitch lightly against my palm for a brief moment before he covered it again perfectly.
We walked inside together.
The party was all muted noise and sharp elegance.
Vance guided me through the crowd, his hand light on my back.
We found Harrington near a large ice sculpture, holding a glass of champagne.
“Blackwood! And you brought the secret weapon,” Harrington boomed, smiling. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Nerissa Sullivan, my VP of Strategic Operations,” Vance said smoothly.
I shook Harrington’s hand.
“Congratulations on the merger, sir.”
”We’ll see if congratulations are in order after Q3,” he said, but he was smiling.
“You convinced the board. That’s no small thing.”
We talked.
I answered his questions about the data, the projections, the Scandinavian models.
Vance watched, interjecting when needed.
To anyone watching, we were a perfect team.
CEO and VP, in sync.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of cream silk near the entrance.
I didn’t look.
I kept my focus on Harrington.
Then I felt Vance go still beside me.
I followed his gaze.
Jovi stood at the entrance, poised and radiant in a pale gold gown.
She was not alone.
On her arm, wearing a tuxedo he hadn’t worn since our wedding, was Zane.
They looked like a couple.
A beautiful, tragic, united couple.
Jovi’s eyes scanned the room.
They found Vance.
Then they found me.
A small, cold smile touched her lips.
She leaned into Zane, whispering something.
He looked up.
His eyes locked on mine across the crowded room.
I saw the confusion on his face, the discomfort, the dawning horror as he took in the scene: me, standing beside Vance Blackwood, dressed like someone he didn’t know, in the middle of a world he didn’t belong to.
The sight punched the air from my lungs.
But what followed was a memory, unbidden and cruel: Jovi and me at sixteen, in this very museum for a school trip.
We’d snuck away from the group, giggling, and stood right here by the dinosaur skeletons.
“When we’re old,” Jovi had whispered, her eyes shining, “we’ll come to parties like this together.” She’d linked her arm in mine, a gesture of inseparable futures.
Now, her arm was linked through Zane’s, and the future we’d built was the skeleton between us.
Vance’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on my back.
Harrington followed our stares.
His bushy eyebrows rose.
“Isn’t that your wife, Blackwood?”
”It is,” Vance said, his voice dangerously calm.
“And who’s the fellow with her?”
Vance didn’t answer.
He just looked at me, a silent question in his eyes.
I had no answer to give.
Jovi began to move through the crowd, Zane stiff beside her, coming straight toward us.