The high-stakes meeting finally came to an end, leaving the air in the conference room buzzing with a lighter, electric energy.

Roxanne’s heart practically bubbled with pure excitement, the sweet taste of victory warming her from the inside out.

"Congratulations, Miss Westbrook," one of the senior board members said, extending his hand with a newfound look of profound respect.

Roxanne smiled warmly, her hand sliding firmly into his. "Thank you so much," she replied, her voice steady and confident.

A wave of other board members and executives moved in around her, offering tight handshakes and polite nods. Roxanne thanked each one of them, her chest swelling with a quiet, hard-earned happiness.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t standing in the shadows.

As she stood up from the table, a tight cluster of reporters quickly surged forward, the bright lights of their cameras flashing in rapid succession.

"Miss Westbrook, how does it feel to become one of the youngest Executive Directors in the history of Vance Enterprises?" a sharp-eyed female reporter asked, thrusting a sleek black microphone toward her.

"It is a moment I can’t fully put into words, but I feel entirely fulfilled," Roxanne replied, looking directly into the camera lens. "I worked incredibly hard behind the scenes for this, and I deserve this win."

"What major changes do you hope to bring to the board?" the reporter pressed.

"Fresh ideas that will ensure Vance Enterprises remains the absolute leading choice for our clients," Roxanne said smoothly. "There will be no more room for doubt in the hearts of our investors. We are going to do some immediate housekeeping and corporate remodeling to ensure that only the most capable hands are dealing with our business."

"Did you actually expect this high-level appointment?" another reporter cut in from the side.

Roxanne smiled, a soft look entering her eyes as her mind drifted back to that night when she had finally confessed her ambition to Richard. She gave a firm, slow nod. "Not exactly in the way it came, but I always knew it was going to happen."

While she focused on effortlessly handling the barrage of questions, Richard stood a few paces away. He kept his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark eyes locked onto her with an unmistakable pride.

As the frantic shouting of the press finally quieted down, Richard stepped up right beside her, his warmth immediately enveloping her space.

"Congratulations, Miss Westbrook," Richard murmured, a rare, brilliant smile curving his lips. "You handled that crowd beautifully."

Roxanne looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at his proximity. "I had an exceptional teacher."

Richard let out a soft, low chuckle and took a slow breath, his gaze softening. "You know this is the easiest day you are ever going to have in this building, right?"

Roxanne glanced around the grand room, feeling the sheer weight of the empire she was about to help run. She nodded, her smile turning sharp and determined. "Yes, I know. And I am ready."

Richard nodded, approval radiating from him. But before he could say another word, a loud voice called his name from across the room. One of the primary chairmen beckoned to him urgently.

Richard turned back to Roxanne, giving her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze. "You belong here."

Roxanne smiled, watching his tall frame move through the crowd. The moment he stepped away, another young reporter approached her, and she smoothly turned her attention back to the press.

Floors above, the atmosphere was entirely different.

From the wide glass window of his quiet office, Christian’s jaw was locked into a hard, rigid line. His knuckles turned white against the windowpane as he watched the scene unfold on the plaza layout below.

Even from this distance, the bright, blinding flashes of the cameras fixed on Roxanne were painfully visible. The press was doting on her every move.

Those cameras should have been on me, he thought, a toxic wave of bitter anger twisting his stomach into knots. "Those bloody board members are going to regret what they did to me today," he growled through clenched teeth, his hot breath fogging the clean glass. "I will make absolutely sure of it."

Amelia stepped in behind him, her footsteps cautious. "Sir," she started, her voice very quiet. "But she is still your wife. Is this not a win for both of you?"

Christian scoffed loudly, turning a furious glare toward her. "Stop talking nonsense and get the hell away from me," he snapped, pulling at his tight collar.

Amelia let out a soft sigh, but she didn’t back down. "Sir, you really need to look at the bigger picture here," she said calmly, stepping closer. "Think about it. No one was actually appointed to the CEO position today. The seat is still vacant, which means it can still be yours."

Christian hesitated. His thick brows furrowed as he stared back out the window, processing her words for a silent moment. He looked down, and the reporters were calling Westbrook continuously. He nodded slowly. "Mrs. Westbrook," he murmured. "She’s still mine."

Then he stepped away from the window. "Which means every door she walks through, I can walk through."

"Your wife now has direct access to Richard Vance himself. Most executives in this city would literally kill for that kind of leverage." Amelia persisted, her tone growing sharper, more calculating.

Christian frowned deeply, turning his full body to face her. Her words began to sink into his mind, the dark wheels turning as he connected the dots. Slowly, the tight lines of his furious frown began to melt away. The anger vanished, replaced by a slow, incredibly ugly smile that stretched across his face.

"She is still my wife," he murmured, a sudden, twisted realization dawning on him. "Which means she can’t shut me out."

"Sir?" Amelia frowned.

"She is going to help me become the next CEO of Vance Enterprises whether she likes it or not," Christian whispered to the empty air, his arrogance returning in full force. "She’s finally where I need her to be."

Amelia swallowed, looking at him.

Christian turned back to the glass, confidently adjusting the silk knot of his tie and smoothing down his charcoal jacket. He strode purposefully toward the office door, his posture completely restored.

"Come, Amelia," he smirked, throwing the door open. "Let’s go remind my wife who she belongs to."