Chapter 4: Face to Face
Vivienne
I almost cancel. Twice.
Not because I'm scared—because standing in front of a mirror at 6 AM, buttoning a suit worth more than his first car, I realize I want him to hurt.
And that terrifies me more than the meeting itself.
I drop Lily at Nina's. She clings to my neck for a second longer than usual, like she can feel something shifting in the air.
"Be good," I say.
"Always," she replies, grinning.
His jaw. His eyes. His stubbornness.
I drive myself. I don't need armor today—I am the armor.
The boardroom is on the eighteenth floor of a building his company has leased for a decade. I know the layout. I helped negotiate the lease.
I walk in three minutes early.
He's already there.
Five years haven't changed him much. Broader maybe. Hair shorter. The same sharp jaw, the same controlled posture. He's talking to someone—his CFO, I think—laughing about something low and unbothered.
Then he sees me.
His laugh dies mid-breath.
I don't stop moving. I take the chair at the head of the table—my chair now—and set my folder down. My assistant follows behind me, tablet ready, expression blank.
Callum stares.
I watch the recognition hit him in stages.
Confusion first. Then disbelief. Then something tight and hot behind his eyes.
"Good morning," I say to the room. Calm. Professional. Like I haven't rehearsed this moment in my head a thousand times over five years.
The CFO glances between us. "Ms. Laurent?"
That's the name I go by now. Different enough. Same woman.
"Yes," I confirm. "Shall we begin?"
Callum hasn't spoken.
His eyes are locked on me—scanning my face, my suit, my posture—like he's trying to reconcile the woman he fired with the one sitting in the power seat.
"I don't believe we've met," his CFO continues politely.
"We haven't," I say. Smiling at him.
Not at Callum.
Never at Callum.
"I'm the new majority shareholder," I continue.
The silence that falls is thick enough to taste.
Callum's jaw flexes.
"Ms. Laurent acquired a controlling interest through a series of subsidiary purchases over the last eighteen months," my assistant explains, sliding the documentation across the table.
No one touches it.
They're all watching Callum.
He doesn't explode. Doesn't shout. Doesn't slam anything. He does worse.
He smiles.
Slow. Calculated. Dangerous.
"Vivienne," he says.
The sound of my real name in his mouth after five years feels like a knife dragged slowly across my ribs.
"Callum," I reply.
"You've been busy," he says.
"I have."
He leans back in his chair. Arms crossed. That old posture—the one he used to use when he wanted people to think he was relaxed.
He's not.
"This must feel good," he says.
"It does."
His eyes narrow just slightly. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
I tilt my head. "I plan to."
The room watches us like spectators at a fight no one called.
"Let's discuss restructuring," I say, turning to the rest of the table. "There are several departments I'll be reviewing."
"You don't have that authority," Callum snaps.
I look at him.
"I have fifty-three percent," I say. "I have whatever authority I want."
His smile drops.
I almost cancel. Twice.
Not because I'm scared—because standing in front of a mirror at 6 AM, buttoning a suit worth more than his first car, I realize I want him to hurt.
And that terrifies me more than the meeting itself.
I drop Lily at Nina's. She clings to my neck for a second longer than usual, like she can feel something shifting in the air.
"Be good," I say.
"Always," she replies, grinning.
His jaw. His eyes. His stubbornness.
I drive myself. I don't need armor today—I am the armor.
The boardroom is on the eighteenth floor of a building his company has leased for a decade. I know the layout. I helped negotiate the lease.
I walk in three minutes early.
He's already there.
Five years haven't changed him much. Broader maybe. Hair shorter. The same sharp jaw, the same controlled posture. He's talking to someone—his CFO, I think—laughing about something low and unbothered.
Then he sees me.
His laugh dies mid-breath.
I don't stop moving. I take the chair at the head of the table—my chair now—and set my folder down. My assistant follows behind me, tablet ready, expression blank.
Callum stares.
I watch the recognition hit him in stages.
Confusion first. Then disbelief. Then something tight and hot behind his eyes.
"Good morning," I say to the room. Calm. Professional. Like I haven't rehearsed this moment in my head a thousand times over five years.
The CFO glances between us. "Ms. Laurent?"
That's the name I go by now. Different enough. Same woman.
"Yes," I confirm. "Shall we begin?"
Callum hasn't spoken.
His eyes are locked on me—scanning my face, my suit, my posture—like he's trying to reconcile the woman he fired with the one sitting in the power seat.
"I don't believe we've met," his CFO continues politely.
"We haven't," I say. Smiling at him.
Not at Callum.
Never at Callum.
"I'm the new majority shareholder," I continue.
The silence that falls is thick enough to taste.
Callum's jaw flexes.
"Ms. Laurent acquired a controlling interest through a series of subsidiary purchases over the last eighteen months," my assistant explains, sliding the documentation across the table.
No one touches it.
They're all watching Callum.
He doesn't explode. Doesn't shout. Doesn't slam anything. He does worse.
He smiles.
Slow. Calculated. Dangerous.
"Vivienne," he says.
The sound of my real name in his mouth after five years feels like a knife dragged slowly across my ribs.
"Callum," I reply.
"You've been busy," he says.
"I have."
He leans back in his chair. Arms crossed. That old posture—the one he used to use when he wanted people to think he was relaxed.
He's not.
"This must feel good," he says.
"It does."
His eyes narrow just slightly. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
I tilt my head. "I plan to."
The room watches us like spectators at a fight no one called.
"Let's discuss restructuring," I say, turning to the rest of the table. "There are several departments I'll be reviewing."
"You don't have that authority," Callum snaps.
I look at him.
"I have fifty-three percent," I say. "I have whatever authority I want."
His smile drops.