Chapter 3: WHO IS THE REAL CIARA HARRISON?
Ciara
Monday morning arrived like a blade.
I stood in the marble lobby of Harrison Tower — *my* tower — dressed in a black tailored suit, my hair swept into a sleek low bun. No one here knew me as Dominic's invisible wife. Here, I was Ciara Harrison. Granddaughter of tech mogul Richard Harrison. Majority shareholder of six companies.
Including Ashford Enterprises.
"Good morning, Ms. Harrison." Jerome fell into step beside me, tablet in hand. "The board meeting is set for 10 AM. All directors have confirmed attendance."
"And Dominic?"
"Mr. Ashford was notified of the emergency board meeting thirty minutes ago. His assistant said he seemed... confused."
Good. Let him be confused.
I stepped into the private elevator, the glass walls reflecting a woman I barely recognized. For three years, I'd shrunk myself. Baggy clothes, no makeup, quiet voice. I'd become whatever Dominic expected a "contract wife" to look like.
Today, that woman was dead.
"Jerome, did the legal team finalize the documents?"
"Yes, ma'am. The shareholder disclosure report, your identity verification, and the motion to restructure the CEO position — all ready."
"Perfect."
The elevator opened to the 40th floor — the executive level of Harrison Holdings. My office was at the end of the corridor. Glass walls, panoramic city views, a mahogany desk my grandfather once sat behind.
I settled into my chair and pulled up the file on my screen: *Ashford Enterprises — Ownership Structure.*
Sixty-two percent. I owned sixty-two percent.
Dominic thought his company was self-made. He thought that mysterious investor — "Heron Capital" — was some faceless venture fund. He'd never looked deeper. Never questioned why his largest stakeholder never interfered.
Because I didn't want to interfere. I wanted him to succeed. I wanted the man I loved to feel proud.
But love makes you blind. And pride makes you cruel.
At 9:47 AM, my phone rang. Dominic's name flashed across the screen.
I let it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then I answered.
"Ciara?" His voice was sharp, tense. "What's going on? I just got a notice for an emergency board meeting at Harrison Holdings. Why are they calling *me* in?"
"I wouldn't miss that meeting if I were you, Dominic."
"What does that mean? What does Harrison Holdings have to do with Ashford Enterprises—"
"Everything." I leaned back in my chair. "It has everything to do with it."
Silence. Then: "Ciara, what did you do?"
I smiled. "I'll see you at ten."
I hung up.
At 9:58 AM, the boardroom doors opened. Twelve directors sat around the oval table, folders open, expressions expectant. They knew what today was. They'd been waiting for three years.
At 9:59 AM, Dominic Ashford walked in.
He looked like he hadn't slept. His tie was slightly crooked. His eyes scanned the room — the unfamiliar faces, the Harrison Holdings logo on the wall — and then they found me.
Sitting at the head of the table.
His face went white.
Monday morning arrived like a blade.
I stood in the marble lobby of Harrison Tower — *my* tower — dressed in a black tailored suit, my hair swept into a sleek low bun. No one here knew me as Dominic's invisible wife. Here, I was Ciara Harrison. Granddaughter of tech mogul Richard Harrison. Majority shareholder of six companies.
Including Ashford Enterprises.
"Good morning, Ms. Harrison." Jerome fell into step beside me, tablet in hand. "The board meeting is set for 10 AM. All directors have confirmed attendance."
"And Dominic?"
"Mr. Ashford was notified of the emergency board meeting thirty minutes ago. His assistant said he seemed... confused."
Good. Let him be confused.
I stepped into the private elevator, the glass walls reflecting a woman I barely recognized. For three years, I'd shrunk myself. Baggy clothes, no makeup, quiet voice. I'd become whatever Dominic expected a "contract wife" to look like.
Today, that woman was dead.
"Jerome, did the legal team finalize the documents?"
"Yes, ma'am. The shareholder disclosure report, your identity verification, and the motion to restructure the CEO position — all ready."
"Perfect."
The elevator opened to the 40th floor — the executive level of Harrison Holdings. My office was at the end of the corridor. Glass walls, panoramic city views, a mahogany desk my grandfather once sat behind.
I settled into my chair and pulled up the file on my screen: *Ashford Enterprises — Ownership Structure.*
Sixty-two percent. I owned sixty-two percent.
Dominic thought his company was self-made. He thought that mysterious investor — "Heron Capital" — was some faceless venture fund. He'd never looked deeper. Never questioned why his largest stakeholder never interfered.
Because I didn't want to interfere. I wanted him to succeed. I wanted the man I loved to feel proud.
But love makes you blind. And pride makes you cruel.
At 9:47 AM, my phone rang. Dominic's name flashed across the screen.
I let it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then I answered.
"Ciara?" His voice was sharp, tense. "What's going on? I just got a notice for an emergency board meeting at Harrison Holdings. Why are they calling *me* in?"
"I wouldn't miss that meeting if I were you, Dominic."
"What does that mean? What does Harrison Holdings have to do with Ashford Enterprises—"
"Everything." I leaned back in my chair. "It has everything to do with it."
Silence. Then: "Ciara, what did you do?"
I smiled. "I'll see you at ten."
I hung up.
At 9:58 AM, the boardroom doors opened. Twelve directors sat around the oval table, folders open, expressions expectant. They knew what today was. They'd been waiting for three years.
At 9:59 AM, Dominic Ashford walked in.
He looked like he hadn't slept. His tie was slightly crooked. His eyes scanned the room — the unfamiliar faces, the Harrison Holdings logo on the wall — and then they found me.
Sitting at the head of the table.
His face went white.