She was no longer the quiet wife who looked the other way.

She was the one in control.

The doors slid open at the lobby level, and I stepped out into the bustling room.

My phone lit up in my hand with a new notification.

The message was from Daniel.

“They are waiting in the fourth-floor boardroom,” the text read. “I have secured the proxy votes from the European directors.”

I closed the messaging app and slipped the phone into my trench coat pocket.

The air in the lobby was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and damp wool from the rain outside.

I walked past the gilded mirrors, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Every step felt heavy, yet my feet did not hesitate.

I took the private stairs to the fourth floor to avoid any delays with the public elevators.

The stairwell was cool and smelled of fresh paint.

When I reached the heavy mahogany doors of the boardroom, I paused to smooth down my black blazer.

I pushed the doors open and walked inside.