Chapter 8 - The Boardroom Ultimatum
The silence lasted for five days.
Five days of no phone calls. Five days of no town cars waiting outside the diner. Five days of Sarah staring at her phone, feeling a hollow, aching emptiness in her chest that she tried desperately to fill with work, laundry, and bedtime stories for Mia.
Mia asked about Oliver twice, her little face falling when Sarah explained that they were both very busy.
At Hayes Global Headquarters on the forty-second floor, the atmosphere was equally glacial.
Graeme sat at the head of the massive mahogany conference table, surrounded by senior executives, legal counsel, and his chief public relations advisor, Julian Vance—a slick, impeccably tailored man who viewed human relationships through the lens of brand management.
"The stock took a minor dip yesterday following the tabloids linking you to... well, to Ms. Collins," Julian was saying, sliding a glossy printout across the table. "The market hates uncertainty, Graeme. The board is concerned that these... domestic distractions are compromising your focus on the upcoming European expansion."
Graeme stared at the report. His face was a mask of cold, impassive marble. For a long, terrifying moment, the boardroom was dead silent.
Then Graeme stood up.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't slam his hands on the table. He simply buttoned his suit jacket, walked to the head of the table, and looked down at his executive team with eyes as cold as arctic ice.
"Let's get something straight, Julian," Graeme said, his voice dropping into a quiet, lethal register that made every veteran executive in the room flinch. "I built this company from a two-person garage into a global titan. I made every single one of you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. I earned every inch of this floor, and I dictate the terms of my own life."
Julian swallowed hard. "Graeme, I only meant—"
"I know what you meant," Graeme cut him off smoothly. "You meant that my personal life doesn't fit neatly into your corporate prospectus. Well, here is your new risk assessment: If I ever catch wind of another PR representative, tabloid journalist, or executive in this building sticking their nose into Sarah Collins’s life, I will fire every single person in this room before the market opens tomorrow morning."
The boardroom was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air filtration system forty floors above the city.
"Is that clear?" Graeme asked softly.
May you like
"Crystal clear, sir," Julian muttered, pale as a sheet.
Graeme turned on his heel, walked out of the conference room, and strode straight to the private elevator. He didn't go back to his office. He didn't check his emails. He picked up his coat from his private suite, grabbed his car keys, and drove himself straight to Maple Street.
