The CEO's Ruthless Rebound

Chapter 2

The obnoxious, high-pitched *beep-beep-beep* of a rejected keycard echoed through the pristine eighty-first-floor corridor.

"Damn it," Arthur muttered, aggressively smacking his silver card against the biometric scanner panel beside the glass double doors of the executive suite. The panel flashed an unforgiving, neon red. *ACCESS DENIED.*

"Arthur, my feet are killing me," Chloe whined, leaning heavily against the frosted glass wall. She pouted, adjusting the strap of her obviously new, incredibly expensive designer handbag. "You said we were going straight to your penthouse office. You promised I could sit on the white leather sofa and look at the city."

"It's just a glitch, baby," Arthur said, his jaw tight. He jammed his thumb onto the fingerprint scanner. The machine buzzed angrily. *UNRECOGNIZED BIOMETRIC.* "Come on, come on. The IT department has always been a disaster here. I'm going to fire the whole lot of them by lunchtime."

"It’s not a glitch."

Arthur and Chloe both spun around.

Vivienne stepped off the private executive elevator, a sleek leather portfolio tucked under one arm. She wore a tailored crimson power suit that made her look like a drop of blood on a field of fresh snow. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe, perfect knot, and her expression was entirely unbothered.

"Vivienne," Arthur said, dropping his useless keycard. He forced a smile, though his eyes were hard. "Good morning. I see the locks have been changed. Cute trick yesterday with Vance, by the way. Very theatrical. But we both know that marriage is a sham to secure your voting bloc. Now, be a good girl and tell security to reinstate my codes. I have calls to make."

Vivienne didn't break her stride. She walked past them, stopping just short of the scanner.

"A dead man doesn't need security clearance, Arthur," she said smoothly, not even glancing at Chloe, who was glaring at her with venomous intent.

"I am not dead," Arthur snapped, stepping into Vivienne's personal space. "I am alive. I am standing right here. And under the original incorporation bylaws, I am entitled to my position as a founding executive. My lawyers sent the injunction to your legal team this morning. You can't keep me out of my own company."

"You're absolutely right," Vivienne replied, her voice eerily calm. "Your lawyers did send an injunction. And my legal team reviewed it at 6:00 A.M. Legally, since your 'miraculous' return voids the death certificate, you are technically entitled to employment at Croft-Sterling."

Arthur puffed out his chest, a smug, victorious grin spreading across his face. He turned to Chloe, winking. "See, babe? I told you she'd cave. She knows she can't beat me in court." He turned back to Vivienne and held out his hand. "My new master keycard, please."

Vivienne opened her leather portfolio. She didn't pull out a silver executive card. Instead, she pulled out a cheap, flimsy plastic badge attached to a scratchy yellow nylon lanyard. She dropped it into Arthur's outstretched palm.

Arthur stared at the yellow plastic. Printed on the front in bold, black letters was the word: *INTERN.*

Beneath it was his name, misspelled as *Artur Sterling.*

"What the hell is this?" Arthur demanded, his face turning an ugly shade of magenta.

"Your new badge," Vivienne said pleasantly. "The bylaws state you are entitled to employment, Arthur. They do not state *which* position you are entitled to. Considering you have a three-year gap in your resume, zero knowledge of our current proprietary software, and a historical track record of nearly bankrupting this firm, HR has determined that your current skill set is best suited for an entry-level internship."

"Are you insane?" Arthur yelled, throwing the badge onto the marble floor. "I am the founder!"

"You are an intern," Vivienne corrected, her tone turning to absolute ice. "Your schedule is in the packet I emailed you this morning. You report to Gregory in accounting. You will be seated in Cubicle 4B."

"Cubicle 4B?" Chloe gasped, her hands flying to her pearl necklace. "Where is that?"

"Sub-basement level two," Vivienne answered, finally looking at the younger woman. "Right next to the server cooling vents. It gets quite drafty, so I suggest a sweater. And Arthur? Gregory likes his coffee black. If you add sugar, he will write you up."

"You vindictive bitch," Arthur hissed, stepping toward Vivienne, his charm entirely evaporated. "You think you can humiliate me? You think putting me in a basement is going to stop me from taking my board back? They love me. Half the senior directors are my father's old friends."

"They loved the idea of you," Vivienne corrected smoothly. "They loved the charming boy who bought them expensive scotch and promised them the moon. But they love the billions of dollars I've made them a hell of a lot more. You want to fight me for this company, Arthur? Fine. But you'll do it from the basement. On a fifteen-dollar-an-hour wage."

"This is abuse!" Chloe suddenly shrieked, stepping in front of Arthur. She puffed out her chest, aggressively pushing her pregnant belly forward. "You are abusing a pregnant woman's husband! Do you have any idea the stress you are putting on my baby?"

"Your baby is not on my payroll, Ms. Jenkins," Vivienne said dryly.

"It's Mrs. Sterling!" Chloe screamed, her face twisting into a mask of pure, performative rage. "You're just jealous! You're a cold, barren, corporate robot, and Arthur left you because you're incapable of being a real woman! You couldn't give him a family, so now you're trying to destroy ours!"

Vivienne’s jaw tightened. The words hit their mark, striking the deep, buried insecurity she fought every day to conceal. *Cold. Unlovable. Robot.* It was the exact fear that haunted her sleepless nights. But she refused to bleed in front of them.

"My personal life is none of your concern," Vivienne said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

"Oh, it's going to be everyone's concern," Chloe threatened, pulling out her smartphone and waving it in Vivienne's face. "I have over two hundred thousand followers on social media. I know reporters at *The Daily Chronicle*. How do you think it's going to look when I tell them that the great Vivienne Croft is forcing a pregnant mother to sleep in a motel because she maliciously froze her husband's bank accounts? How will the public react to your cruelty?"

Arthur smirked, wrapping an arm around Chloe's shoulders. "She has a point, Viv. The press loves a pregnant damsel in distress. Your stock prices will tank by tomorrow morning if Chloe starts doing interviews."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The deep, resonant voice came from behind Vivienne.

The heavy glass doors of the executive suite slid open. Julian Vance stepped out. He was dressed impeccably in a charcoal three-piece suit, looking every inch the ruthless Wall Street monarch he was. In his right hand, he held a thick stack of legal documents.

Julian moved to stand beside Vivienne, his towering frame effortlessly dwarfing Arthur. He looked down at Chloe, his dark eyes devoid of any warmth.

"Julian Vance," Arthur sneered, trying to mask his intimidation with bravado. "Playing the protective guard dog? It's pathetic. We all know this marriage is a business transaction. You don't care about her."

Julian ignored Arthur completely. He didn't even look at him. His gaze remained locked on Chloe, who suddenly looked very small and very nervous under his lethal scrutiny.

"Chloe Jenkins," Julian said, his voice a smooth, terrifying purr. "Born in Dayton, Ohio. Three maxed-out credit cards. A string of failed auditions in Los Angeles, followed by a sudden, highly lucrative pivot to 'yacht modeling' in the Mediterranean, which is where I assume you fished Arthur out of the water."

Chloe’s face drained of color. "How do you—"

"I am a venture capitalist, Ms. Jenkins," Julian interrupted, his tone conversational but laced with venom. "I do not invest without conducting a thorough background check. And my background checks are exhaustive."

He held up the stack of papers.

"This," Julian said, "is a Non-Disclosure Agreement. It stipulates that you will not speak Vivienne's name, you will not post about her on social media, and you will not contact the press regarding her, this company, or your husband's employment status."

"And if I refuse to sign it?" Chloe spat, trying to regain her footing. "You can't force me!"

Julian smiled. It was a terrifying expression.

"I don't force anyone," Julian said softly. "But if you don't sign it, I will have my legal team release the dossier on your family's rather creative tax filings in Ohio. I will personally ensure that your father's auto-body shop is audited by the IRS into oblivion. I will buy the mortgage on your mother's house and foreclose on it within thirty days. And then, I will leak the photographs from your 'yachting' days to every high-society blog in this city, ensuring you are never invited to anything more exclusive than a fast-food opening."

Silence descended on the hallway. Chloe was trembling, her phone slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor.

Arthur looked genuinely horrified. "You... you can't do that. That's blackmail!"

"That's leverage, Arthur," Julian corrected, his eyes finally flicking to the other man. "You used to know the difference, before you forgot how to play in the big leagues."

Julian took a sleek, black fountain pen from his breast pocket and held it out to Chloe, along with the NDA.

"Sign the paper, Chloe," Julian commanded, his voice leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "Or pack your bags for Ohio."

Chloe swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. She looked at Arthur for help, but Arthur was staring at Julian in stunned silence. With a shaking hand, Chloe snatched the pen and scribbled her signature on the bottom line.

"Excellent," Julian murmured, retrieving the document. He looked at Arthur. "Your badge is on the floor, intern. I suggest you pick it up. You're going to be late for your shift in the basement."

Arthur glared at them both, his chest heaving with impotent rage. Slowly, humiliatingly, he bent down and picked up the yellow plastic badge. Without another word, he grabbed Chloe's arm and dragged her toward the service elevator.

Vivienne watched them go, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was a master of control, but the sheer, overwhelming presence of Julian Vance standing beside her, defending her with such ruthless efficiency, left her feeling entirely off-balance.

When the elevator doors finally closed, sealing Arthur and Chloe away, Vivienne turned to Julian.

"You didn't have to do that," she said, her voice tight, trying to rebuild her professional armor. "I had the situation under control. I don't need you fighting my battles."

Julian turned to her, his dark eyes softening just a fraction as he looked down into her face. He stepped closer, invading her personal space once again, his towering height forcing her to look up at him.

"You're my wife now, Vivienne," Julian said softly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register that made her breath catch. "Even if it's just on paper, no one disrespects what is mine. Now, come into the office. We have the terms of our contract to finalize."