At 10:17 that morning, I walked into my first executive meeting as CEO carrying no presentation, no prepared speech, and no intention of discussing quarterly earnings.
I carried a notebook.
Sometimes a notebook is more frightening.
Alexander sat at the far end of the conference table.
Camila had apparently assumed she would join him.
I stopped beside the door.
“This meeting is restricted.”
Camila looked offended.
“I attend all of the Chairman’s meetings.”
“This is the CEO’s meeting.”
Alexander shifted in his chair.
“Elena—”
“Camila can return to her desk.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“I need to take minutes.”
“I’ll take my own.”
She looked at Alexander.
That instinct bothered me more than anything she said.
She expected him to overrule me.
He didn’t.
“Camila,” he said quietly. “Give us the room.”
She walked out.
As she passed me, I saw the watch again.
I waited until the door closed.
Then I faced the executives.
“Good morning.”
Marianne Holt, our General Counsel, nodded cautiously.
Beside her sat Thomas Grant from Internal Audit and Denise Walker, Chief Human Resources Officer.
All three looked confused.
That was reasonable.
The company’s newly appointed CEO had summoned them seventeen minutes after her appointment became public.
I sat down.
“I want to begin with a straightforward question. Who controls access to the executive elevators?”
Denise answered.
“Facilities, technically.”
“Technically?”
She glanced toward Alexander.
“Certain executive-office preferences have been implemented separately.”
“What preferences?”
Silence.
I waited.
Thomas opened his laptop.
“There’s an access list administered through the Chairman’s office.”
“By whom?”
“Ms. Reyes.”
Alexander leaned forward.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
I turned toward him.
“Then it should take five minutes to clear up.”
He leaned back.
I continued.
“Effective immediately, all employees with legitimate business on floors sixty-four through sixty-eight receive elevator access.”
Denise nodded.
“Understood.”
“And I want a review of complaints involving Camila Reyes during the last three years.”
Alexander’s expression hardened.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“You’re making personnel decisions because she mistook you for an intern.”
“No. I’m reviewing a manager who apparently created a system where junior employees climb five flights of stairs because she doesn’t consider them important enough to use an elevator.”
“She’s not a manager.”
“That makes her authority even more interesting.”
Nobody spoke.
I turned to Thomas.
“Internal Audit will also review expenditures originating from the Chairman’s discretionary accounts for the last twenty-four months.”
That changed the room.
Alexander stared at me.
“Why?”
“Standard governance review.”
“You’ve been CEO for twenty minutes.”
“Then I’m starting early.”
“Elena.”
His voice carried a warning.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it during arguments at home.
But we weren’t home.
“Is there something in those accounts I shouldn’t see?”
Marianne Holt looked down.
Alexander smiled tightly.
“Of course not.”
“Wonderful. Then we agree.”
I dismissed the meeting twenty minutes later.
Alexander stayed behind.
The door closed.
“What are you doing?”
“Running the company.”
“You’re humiliating me.”
I stared at him.
“That’s interesting.”
“What is?”
“You’re worried about humiliation.”
He knew immediately.
“The watch.”
“Yes, Alexander. The watch.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“It isn’t what you think.”
“People always say that when it’s exactly what someone thinks.”
“Elena.”
“I chose that watch for your mother.”
“I know.”
“I asked you to buy it.”
“I know.”
“You told me you did.”
He looked away.
“And now your secretary is wearing it.”
“There’s an explanation.”
“Then explain.”
He opened his mouth.
Stopped.
That pause hurt more than any answer could have.
“Alexander?”
“I can’t explain it properly here.”
I laughed once.
“You’re Chairman of the company. I’m CEO. We’re alone in a conference room sixty-eight floors above Manhattan. Where exactly would be more appropriate?”
“At home.”
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“You don’t get to postpone this until you can control the environment.”
His jaw tightened.
“I gave Camila the watch.”
The words landed heavily.
“Why?”
“It was a mistake.”
“What kind?”
He looked at the door.
“An expensive one.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
He lowered his voice.
“Camila has been helping me with something sensitive.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you yet.”
I stared at him.
“My husband secretly gave another woman the birthday present I selected for his mother, and your explanation is that she’s helping you with something you can’t tell me?”
“It wasn’t romantic.”
I had not asked whether it was.
That made my stomach turn.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“No.”
He answered immediately.
I searched his face.
“Have you ever?”
“No.”
“Do you love her?”
“No.”
“Then why does she behave like she owns your office?”
Alexander said nothing.
“Why does she call you Alexander in front of employees?”
Silence.
“Why do senior managers believe she can destroy careers?”
“Elena, this situation is complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it.”
He stood.
“I need forty-eight hours.”
“For what?”
“To explain everything.”
“No.”
“Please.”
It was the first time that morning he sounded like my husband rather than the Chairman.
That almost weakened me.
Almost.
“I’ll give Internal Audit forty-eight hours,” I said.
His expression changed.
Then I left.
By noon, the first complaints arrived.
By three, there were seventeen.
By six, there were forty-three.
Camila had allegedly denied promotions, interfered with scheduling, excluded employees from executive meetings, demanded personal errands, and threatened staff members with Alexander’s name.
Some allegations were minor.
Others were not.
One employee claimed Camila had instructed HR to terminate a junior analyst after he questioned an invoice from a consulting company called Reyes Strategic Solutions.
Reyes.
I called Thomas.
“Tell me that’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Who owns it?”
“We’re checking.”
At 7:14 p.m., he called back.
“Elena.”
His voice was different.
“What?”
“Reyes Strategic Solutions was incorporated two years ago.”
“Owner?”
“The registered agent is a law firm. Beneficial ownership is obscured.”
“How much have we paid them?”
“Approximately $2.8 million.”
I sat upright.
“For what?”
“Executive consulting.”
“Deliverables?”
“We haven’t found any.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Who approved the payments?”
There was a pause.
“The Chairman’s office.”
Alexander.
I looked through the glass wall of my temporary office.
Camila was packing her handbag.
She noticed me watching.
And smiled.
Not nervously.
Confidently.
My phone buzzed.
Thomas had sent another document.
An expense report.
The Bellavere Luna watch.
$86,000.
Purchased with a Montalvo Global corporate card.
Not Alexander’s personal money.
Not mine.
Company money.
The description on the reimbursement line read:
EXECUTIVE RELATIONS—CONFIDENTIAL RETENTION EXPENSE.
I felt sick.
I called Alexander.
He answered on the second ring.
“Elena.”
“The watch was purchased with company funds.”
Silence.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Elena—”
“Why?”
“I told you. Give me forty-eight hours.”
“You don’t have forty-eight hours anymore.”
I hung up.
Then something occurred to me.
If the watch had been purchased through corporate funds, perhaps it had never been intended for Victoria at all.
Perhaps Alexander had lied from the beginning.
I opened my email and searched the original correspondence with the dealer.
There it was.
My introduction.
My request.
My instructions.
Then a later email I had never seen.
The dealer had forwarded confirmation to Alexander.
A response had come from his office.
Please redirect delivery. Ms. Reyes will personally receive the item. Do not contact Mrs. Montalvo regarding the change.
I stared at the sentence.
Do not contact Mrs. Montalvo.
Someone had deliberately kept me in the dark.
At 8:03, Thomas appeared at my door.
He looked pale.
“We found the owner.”
“Of Reyes Strategic?”
“Yes.”
“Camila?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
He handed me a document.
I read the name.
Then read it again.
The beneficial owner of the shell company receiving millions of dollars from Montalvo Global was not Camila Reyes.
It was Gabriel Reyes.
“Who is Gabriel?”
Thomas sat down.
“Camila’s brother.”
I looked up.
“That’s bad.”
“It gets worse.”
“How?”
“He worked for Montalvo Global.”
“Worked?”
“Until six years ago.”
“What happened?”
Thomas slid another file toward me.
“He was fired after reporting accounting irregularities involving three senior executives.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whistleblower?”
“Apparently.”
“Who fired him?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Alexander.”
The room seemed to shrink.
I looked through the glass toward the Chairman’s office.
The lights were still on.
My husband stood inside alone.
And for the first time, I wondered whether the watch on Camila’s wrist had anything to do with an affair.
Because whatever Alexander was hiding looked much more dangerous than infidelity.
---