brief criticism

Lenora's own apartment felt suddenly cavernous and unfamiliar. It wasn't the gilded cage that Gerard De Morre would soon install her in, but it had been hers—a sun-drenched space she had earned after years of grinding hours at Don Industries. Now, she was packing her life into a few expensive leather suitcases, and the reality of her marriage struck her harder than the Registrar's stamp.

She picked up a framed photograph: her, grinning fiercely, holding the signed papers for her first major successful merger. Independence, captured in glossy paper. She slipped it into the suitcase, feeling a sharp pang of loss. It was a trophy she was now trading for debt relief.

 'The Lady Boss!'

'De Morre said I owed him,' she thought, closing the case with a resolute click. 'He’s right. I owe him the facade of a devoted wife, the stability of a CEO, and two years of my life.'

She did not cry. Crying was a luxury only debt-free women could afford. Instead, she stared at the diamond band on her finger. It wasn't a symbol of devotion; it was a shackle of gilded iron, a warranty on a very expensive business deal.

With a deep breath, Lenora walked away from her apartment, the silence of the empty space behind her echoing the sudden quiet void in her future.

*****

Gerard De Morre was back in his high-altitude sanctuary, reviewing the merger documents. He felt the familiar, dull satisfaction of a deal executed flawlessly. Lenora De Diego had been predictably desperate and therefore, predictably compliant. Her company was now his strategic foothold in the digital manufacturing sector.

There was a polite, double-knock on his door.

“Enter, Marcus.”

Marcus Holloway, Gerard's executive assistant and long-time colleague, slipped into the office. Marcus was the only person in Gerard's life permitted to look slightly rumpled. He placed a tablet down, not in the designated place, but slightly off-centre—a subtle rebellion. Though he had other colleagues, he never assumed them as if they existed, unless he wanted to joke around.

“The media coverage is minimal and correct, sir,” Marcus reported. “A small, private ceremony, citing the need for privacy. They expect a large gala announcement later this year.”

“Good. Maintain that narrative.” Elias didn't look up from his spreadsheet.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Sir, may I offer an observation?”

Elias sighed, putting his pen down with an audible tap. Marcus never asked permission unless he was about to deliver an unwelcome truth.

"Make it quick."

“You were… unnecessarily harsh on Lenora Don Diego today, Gerard,” Marcus said, his tone measured but firm. He stepped toward the window, looking out at the city. “I understand the business leverage, but a small measure of tact might have smoothed the transition.”

Gerard scoffed. “Tact? I bought her company out of insolvency, Marcus. She signed a contract, not a love letter. Sentiment is a liability.”

“Sentiment, no. But respect, yes,” Marcus countered, turning back to face his boss. “You see a failing company. The rest of the industry, and more importantly, the public, see the only Lady Boss in the manufacturing sector—a woman who spent five years fighting tooth and nail to save her family's legacy while every vulture circled her airspace.”

Marcus paused, letting the silence settle. “She fought off three hostile takeovers. She diversified their portfolio in a failing market. She didn't fail due to incompetence; she failed due to relentless, predatory capital pressure. Likewise, she’s a formidable executive, Gerard. Whom are you now married to?”

Gerard leaned forward, his knuckles white against the dark wood of the desk. He didn't like being lectured, especially about his own calculated indifference. Yet, Marcus had a point. The marriage wasn't just about the balance sheet; it was about public perception, and Lenora Don Diego commanded a grudging respect that Gerard often bypassed with his sheer wealth.

"Your point, Marcus?"

"My point, sir, is that you've just brought a lioness into your home. If you treat her like a kitten, she will scratch you. And if you humiliate her, she won't just jeopardise the stock price; she'll dismantle the façade. She saved her company once by fighting. Don’t push her to save it again by fighting you."

Elias stared at the assistant for a long moment, the quiet accusation hanging heavy in the air. "Duly noted. Ensure her new wing is prepared exactly to her specifications, Marcus. I don't need scratch marks on my reputation."

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