Taking Back the Company

Chapter 4: Taking Back the Company

The cancellations took the better part of two hours — not because the bank moved slowly but because Anaya had been absurdly generous. Five credit cards. Two ATM cards. One year of transactions.

She stood on the sidewalk afterward, reading the printed statement.

Nearly sixty-five million dollars. In twelve months.

She tucked the papers into her bag. She would have let it go, every cent of it, if they'd simply been loyal.

She ordered a rideshare to Vance's law firm, dropped the documents with his paralegal, and then — for the first time in five months — walked into her own company.

She had built it from nothing. Started it as a university student with a business plan and more stubbornness than capital. Now it occupied twelve floors in the city's financial district.

"Good morning, everyone."

The lobby went quiet.

She caught fragments of whispered conversation as she passed:

— still treats us like people, can you believe it—

— so different from Zara, she acts like she owns the place—

— the two of them go everywhere together, it's obvious they're—

— don't say that if you want to keep your job—

— but he's only a placeholder—

She heard all of it. She walked past the CEO's office — Glenn's temporary kingdom — and knocked on a door three offices down. Her father's old aide. The one person here who knew who she actually was.

"May I come in, Mr. Lukman?"

The man was on his feet before she finished the sentence. "Miss Anaya." He hadn't called her that in months. He looked like he might cry.

"How are you? I owe you an apology — I should have been paying closer attention." She kept her voice steady. "I know everything now. That's why I'm here. Can you get the entire board into the conference room? Five minutes. Anyone late gets a consequence."

"Understood, Miss Anaya."

She walked to the conference room and sat at the head of the table. The chair still fit.

Employees arrived in twos and threes, urgent and slightly panicked — the rumor of consequences traveled fast. Within four minutes, every seat was filled.

Except two.

In the CEO's office, Glenn was still busy.

"Why are you always—" Zara exhaled in that particular way that turned into a sigh and then something else. "Why are you so good at this."

"Tell me you haven't let your husband touch you." He was breathing hard.

"Of course not. I promised you." She shifted under him. "Only you. I mean it. Don't forget this is your heir we're growing—"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Glenn." Anaya's voice, flat and clear through the door. "What are you doing in there?"

The room became very still.

"Zara—" Glenn scrambled up. "Get dressed. Now."

"Just let her find out. I'm sick of being a secret."

"Not yet. Not until I have the company and the house in my name." He pressed a quick kiss to her bare stomach. "I love you. I love this baby. But I need you to trust me a little longer."

They dressed at speed. Something fell in the rush — neither noticed.

Glenn opened the door. His shirt was buttoned wrong. His zipper was down.

Zara had positioned herself on the sofa with a folder of papers, attempting the look of someone who had been working. Her hair was a disaster.

Anaya walked into the room and her foot caught on something.

She bent and picked it up.

A pair of underwear. Small. Lacy.

"Glenn," she said conversationally, holding them up, "does the cleaning crew come on weekdays? There seems to be underwear on the floor." She looked at Zara. "These aren't yours, are they?"

Zara's face went white. "Absolutely not."

"Right. Probably a mouse dragged them in." She set the underwear on the edge of the desk. "What were you two so busy with that you missed a mandatory company meeting? I've been in the conference room for the last three hours."

"We were — discussing a new project. A meeting schedule." Glenn's voice had the tight quality of a man improvising.

"Zara." Anaya turned to her with mild concern. "You should really cross your legs. You can see everything from here." She paused. "Did you forget to put something on this morning? Seemed like you were in a rush."

Zara's jaw clamped shut. She'd uncrossed her legs before she registered the comment; now she pressed them together, knuckles white around the useless folder.

Glenn blinked at Anaya.

She had already turned to his desk, settled herself into the CEO chair — the one she'd lent him five months ago — and was pulling open the top drawer.

"Here's what's changing, effective today." She produced a termination letter and slid it across the desk toward Zara. "I called a company-wide emergency meeting this morning. You were the only one who didn't show up. Consequence, as promised: you're terminated. You can go now. And please — when you leave the building, put something on underneath."

Zara stared at the letter. She stared at Glenn.

Glenn gave the smallest shake of his head.

Don't.

"Glenn," Anaya continued, "I'm reclaiming the CEO position. I've been home too long — I'm going stir-crazy. You'll move into the personal assistant role starting immediately, twenty-four hours on call, no days off. Don't worry — I'll pay you the standard assistant's salary."

"Why—" The word came out harder than he intended. No "sweetheart" anymore. He looked at her like she'd pulled something out from under him, which she had. "Why is this happening now?"

"Nothing sudden about it. I'm just taking back what I lent you."

"You didn't say anything about this before—"

"Not saying something in advance doesn't make it wrong." She laced her fingers on the desk. "Besides, we both still work here. Isn't it nicer when a married couple shares an office? We can see more of each other." She looked up with perfect pleasantness. "Oh — sorry, Zara. I forgot you were still here. You must miss being with someone, since your husband passed away. I wasn't trying to rub it in — Glenn is just... attentive."

Zara's face had moved through several shades of red. Her hands were white-knuckled around the folder. Glenn's eyes told her to stay quiet and she held it together by a thread.

"Glenn, would you walk Zara out? I think she's forgotten where the exit is."

They walked. In the elevator, Zara didn't stop.

"The wedding happens in one month. Regardless." She pressed both hands to her stomach. "Look at me. I am not waiting."

"I know. Go home. I'll call you tonight." He watched the lobby doors. "Take care of yourself. And our baby."

"I'm borrowing your car."

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