Chapter 2 - The First FractureI lowered the phone and slipped it back into my clutch.
For a second, nobody moved. Then Claire burst into a loud, grating cackle that echoed off the crystal chandeliers. "Listen to her!" she mocked, turning to a cluster of senior board donors standing nearby. "The poor thing has lost her mind! She’s playing CEO on her phone because she can’t handle being replaced by a real woman!"
Brendan shook his head, a smirk twisting his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. "Are you finished playing dramatics? Who were you even calling? Customer service? A divorce lawyer who’s going to tell you that you get nothing because signed a pre-nup on day one?"
"You really have no idea, do you?" I asked quietly.
"I know that you're nothing without me," Brendan said, his voice rising, eager to reclaim his audience's complete admiration. He turned to the crowd, spreading his arms wide with theatrical magnanimity. "Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for my wife. Years of coddling have made her lose touch with reality. Let's get the music back on—"
Before Brendan could finish his sentence, a strange sound began to ripple through the front rows of the ballroom.
It wasn't laughter. It was the sharp, frantic buzzing of mobile phones.
Dozens of screens lit up in the darkened hall simultaneously. High-powered executives, board members, institutional investors, and investment bankers pulled devices from their pockets or evening clutches. Faces that had been relaxed in amused complacency suddenly drained of color. Eyes darted from glowing screens to Brendan, and then back to their phones.
The first audible gasp came from Arthur Sterling, the senior managing director of Sterling Capital and Pinnacle’s largest institutional backer. He stared at his phone, his face turning the color of curdled milk, before punching numbers into his own device with trembling fingers.
"What is happening?" Sabrina muttered, her smile faltering as she noticed the sudden shift in the room's temperature. She looked at Brendan, whose arrogant smirk was beginning to twitch into genuine confusion.
"Attention, please! Everyone, please check your secure executive portal!"
The voice came from near the side doors. It was Marcus Vance, one of Pinnacle’s executive vice presidents of finance, holding his phone high in the air as if it were a burning torch. His face was entirely devoid of color.
Brendan dropped his arms, glaring at Marcus. "Vance, what the hell are you shouting about? This is a private celebration—"
"It’s not a celebration anymore, Mr. Alcott," Marcus interrupted, his voice cracking slightly with panic. "The corporate server... Pinnacle’s main master network... my executive terminal just locked me out. A Level-Alpha security override was just triggered by the general counsel's office."
The ballroom erupted into instant chaos.
Voices clashed, glasses clinked nervously, and multiple people tried speaking at once. Sterling pushed his way through the crowd, stepping past Brendan as if he were a ghost, heading straight toward where I stood near the marble column.
Brendan stepped into Sterling’s path, forcing a tight, nervous smile. "Arthur, old friend, ignore this nonsense. My wife had a hysterical episode—"
"Get out of my way, Brendan," Sterling snapped, his voice venomous. He didn't look at Brendan; instead, he stopped three feet in front of me, his expression a mix of shock and deep, profound realization. He slowly lowered his head in a respectful nod. ရှင်
"Mrs. Alcott," Sterling breathed, his voice carrying across the hushed proximity of the surrounding crowd. "I... I didn't realize you were authorizing the override."
May you like
Brendan froze, his mouth half-open. "Mrs... what? Arthur, have you lost your mind? She is nobody! She’s just my wife!"
Sterling turned slowly, staring at Brendan as if looking at an insect crawling across a pristine table. "Your wife, Brendan? You arrogant fool. Do you honestly believe a company worth twelve billion dollars belongs to a frontman who spends his time posing for magazine covers?"
