Chapter 2

By nine the next morning, I sat at the head of a mahogany conference table on the fifty-second floor of Sinclair Tower.

Thirty board members stared.

Most hadn't seen me since I was a teenager, shipped off to boarding school in Switzerland, then MIT, then three years of "disappearance" that was actually my father's test.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, "I'm Vivienne Sinclair. Effective today, I assume the role of CEO."

Murmurs rippled.

My father appeared on the video screen behind me, visibly aged but sharp-eyed. "My daughter has my full endorsement. Treat her word as mine."

The murmurs stopped.

After the meeting, Margaret handed me a tablet. "Orion Tech's debt recall went through at market open. Their stock dropped fourteen percent in the first hour. Ryan Cole's department is in crisis mode."

I nodded and turned to the next item.

But fate had other plans for my morning.

"Ms. Sinclair, a Mr. Cole is in the lobby. He's demanding to see whoever initiated the debt recall. Security says he's making a scene."

Ryan. Here. Already.

"Send him to Conference Room B. Don't tell him who he's meeting."

I fixed my lipstick—Chanel, not the dollar-store gloss I'd worn for three years—and walked in.

Ryan stood with his back to the door, barking into his phone. "I don't care who's behind this! Find out! Orion's CEO is losing his mind. If we can't resolve this today, the whole division gets axed, and that means—"

He turned.

His phone slipped from his hand.

"V-Vivienne?"

I sat down across from him, crossing my legs. "Hello, Ryan. I understand you have a debt issue."

His face drained of color. "What are you—why are you—how did you get into this building?"

"I own this building."

Silence.

"I also own the one Orion leases. And the supplier contract your entire production line depends on. And, as of this morning, thirty-one percent of your company's callable debt."

Ryan's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"That's... that's impossible. You're a waitress. You worked at a diner."

"I worked at a diner I owned, Ryan. Part of a chain. Forty-seven locations. I bought it as a personal project during business school."

He grabbed the edge of the table. "Is this some kind of joke? Did someone put you up to this?"

I slid a single sheet of paper across the table. The Sinclair Global letterhead. The debt recall notice. My signature at the bottom.

He read it three times.

Then he looked up at me with an expression I'd never seen in three years of marriage.

Fear.

"Vivienne, listen. Whatever this is about, we can talk. We're—we were—family."

"Were." I stood. "You have seventy-two hours to settle the debt. After that, we pursue legal remedies. Margaret will show you out."

I turned to leave.

"Wait!" His voice cracked. "Is this because of the divorce? Vivienne, if that's what this is about, we can fix it. I'll tear up the papers. I'll—I'll end things with Vanessa. Right now. I'll call her right now."

I paused at the door.

"Ryan, you misunderstand. The divorce is the best thing you ever gave me."

I walked out.

Behind me, I heard something I'd waited three years to hear.

Ryan Cole, sobbing.