Hours later, the storm had finally passed.

The frantic shouting of the press, the endless flashing of cameras, and the heavy chatter of the board members had completely died down. There were no colleagues lingering to shake her hand. No Richard. Just her and a deep, absolute silence.

Roxanne pressed her palm against the heavy oak door of her new corner office and pushed it open, stepping inside for the very first time. The quiet of the room was almost thick, interrupted only by the faint, rhythmic hum of the building’s central air.

The first thing that caught her breath was the view. Stretching across the far wall were floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a dizzying, panoramic look at the sprawling city skyline below. The afternoon sun bathed the room in a warm, amber glow.

A soft, genuine smile broke across her lips.

She walked deeper into the room, her high heels sinking into the plush carpet, and ran a slow hand over the smooth, dark mahogany of her executive desk. The wood felt cool under her fingertips.

Her mind drifted back to years ago, to the sleepless nights when a moment like this was nothing more than a desperate dream, one that had felt completely impossible every single time she looked at Christian.

Moving around the desk, she slid into the high-backed leather chair, letting the weight of the day settle into her shoulders. It was the exact seat that should have been hers years ago, but she had finally arrived. That single thought made her smile widen.

This was her era now, and nobody was going to strip it away from her.

A sharp, heavy knock shattered her thoughts.

Roxanne’s eyes had barely drifted toward the entryway when the door swung open, the latch clicking loudly in the quiet room. The smile on her face died instantly.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she demanded, her posture snapping completely rigid as Christian strode in. "Please leave my office."

"Relax, Roxy," Christian said smoothly, completely ignoring her tone. He walked over and dropped himself into one of the leather visitor chairs across from her, crossing his legs comfortably. "I just came up here to properly congratulate you. I always knew you would make me proud."

Roxanne stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t say a word, her eyes narrowing with deep, cold suspicion.

Christian leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of her desk. A manipulative glint entered his eyes, though Roxanne remained completely unbothered. "Now that the theater downstairs is over, let’s talk strategy. Let’s talk about how we’re going to use this to become the most powerful couple in Vance Enterprises."

Roxanne’s jaw hardened, a muscle feathering in her cheek. "We are not becoming anything, Christian."

"Oh, come on, Roxy. I know you’re still throwing a tantrum about what happened in the lobby," Christian chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "But let’s be real for a second. You are my wife. It is your duty to help me rise in this company. This is our golden ticket to becoming a true power couple."

A dry, humorless scoff escaped Roxanne’s throat. "Don’t make me laugh."

Christian’s face twisted with a flash of immediate anger, but he smoothed his features quickly, leaning back. "I am your husband, Roxanne. Your loyalty is to me. Not to this board, and certainly not to Richard Vance."

Roxanne shook her head, looking at him as if he were an annoying insect. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the dark wood of her desk and interlacing her fingers.

"I am never letting you use me or my work ever again," she said, her voice dropping into a steady register. "So, why don’t you gather your things and get out? As you can clearly see, I have work to do."

Christian stared at her, his eyes narrowing into slits as his knuckles turned white against the armrests. "Tell me something, Roxanne," he whispered, his tone deceptively calm, though the trembling rage beneath it was unmistakable. "What exactly did you do to secure an executive director seat? Are you Richard’s new whore?"

Roxanne didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but then a slow, icy smile spread across her face, refusing to let him see an ounce of hurt.

"People are already talking. You know how these companies work. It only takes one rumor," Christian said, looking at her.

Roxanne eyed him for a moment. Then she spoke. "Whatever I did is the only reason you still work in this company," she shot back, her voice cutting like a blade. "And by now, you should be fully aware that one negative recommendation from me will land you right on the streets, with your outdated CV in your hand. Keep pushing me, Christian."

Christian slammed his open palm down on the desk, the loud bang echoing off the glass windows. "You will help me get that CEO seat, or I swear to God, I will leak it to every reporter in this city that you slept your way to the top with Richard Vance!"

Roxanne leaned back in her leather chair, her demeanor completely relaxed, her fingers still loosely interwoven. She looked down her nose at him. "Go ahead," she said softly. "Tell the entire world I slept with Richard."

Christian’s lips curled into a triumphant smile. "You don’t want that scandal, Roxy."

"And right after you do," Roxanne continued, leaning forward again, her eyes locking onto his with deadly intent, "I will gladly release the evidence of how you stole my application to Vance Enterprises and applied for my dream job behind my back."

Christian blinked. For the first time that day, he looked genuinely afraid. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"I’ll tell them how every single project and proposal that made your entire career was written by my hand," she whispered, the silence in the room stretching tight. "I will tell them about the women you brought into our home, into our bed. I will detail every single day of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse I endured from you. Oh, and let’s not forget you suggesting an open marriage."

Christian’s mouth parted, his face twisting into complete confusion and panic as he stared at her, utterly speechless.

"And after I am done laying out the truth, let’s see who makes the bigger headline," Roxanne continued, her voice dripping with venom. "The cheating, abusive crook of a husband, or the man who is so deeply bitter that his wife rose above his control that he had to invent a desperate story just to tear her down."

Christian’s lips moved silently, but his throat was so tight no words came out.

Roxanne shifted her gaze away from him, looking directly at the heavy office door. "Get out."

"Roxanne, listen to me—"

She didn’t give him a single second to negotiate. She reached out and tapped the button on her desk intercom. "I need security in the director’s suite immediately," she said calmly.

"You think you’re untouchable now? You will not get away with this, trust me," Christian spat, his chest heaving violently under his suit jacket.

"You are the one who is no longer getting away with mistreating me," Roxanne shot back, her tone steady and final. "And I suggest you watch your next words, Christian. Because one wrong word out of your mouth is going to cost you much more than you could ever possibly imagine."

Christian opened his mouth to bark another threat, but the door clicked open. Two uniform security officers stepped inside, their presence immediately dominating the small entryway.

"You called, Director Westbrook?" the lead guard asked, offering a respectful nod.

Roxanne didn’t even look at her husband as she gave the order. "Mr. Westbrook seems to have forgotten that this is my private office. Please escort him off the executive floor."