Handing Him Eviction Papers at Our Wedding Altar

"We are facing a temporary PR hurdle, nothing more."

Julian’s voice leaked through the heavy mahogany doors of the executive suite. "Vance Tech's quarterly projections remain entirely unchanged."

"Your personal matters made the front page of the financial times, Julian," a male voice countered.

"I am the Chairman of this board," Julian insisted. "I control the narrative."

I pushed the double doors open.

"You control absolutely nothing," I said.

The twelve shareholders fell completely silent.

I wore a custom black suit, sharply tailored and entirely unforgiving. I walked straight toward the head of the long glass table.

Julian sat in the high-backed leather Chairman's seat. A fresh cup of coffee steamed next to his notepad. The faint bruise on his cheekbone from Saturday's shredded vow cards had turned an ugly shade of purple.

"Security," Julian snapped, pointing a finger at me. "Remove her."

Nobody moved.

"Did you not hear me?" Julian yelled at the guards stationed outside the frosted glass walls. "I said get her out of my boardroom!"

"It is my boardroom," I replied.

I stopped at the center of the table. I raised the thick, leather-bound folder in my right hand.

I tossed it onto the glass surface. It slid smoothly, stopping exactly in the middle of the long table.

"Page one," I announced to the room. "Proof of absolute majority shareholding. I own sixty-eight percent of Vance Tech."

An older board member reached for the folder. He flipped it open. His eyes scanned the notarized seal.

"It's authentic," the man stated.

Julian's jaw tightened. "She forced me to sign those documents under duress!"

"You signed them three years ago," I corrected. "When you begged my family for the capital to save this sinking ship."

"I am the founder!" Julian shouted, slamming his palm against the table.

"You are a liability." I pointed directly at the exit. "Get out of the inner circle."

Julian didn't move. He glared up at me, his chest heaving under his expensive dress shirt.

"You think a black suit and a piece of paper make you a CEO?" he sneered. "These people trust me. I made them rich."

"You made them nervous," I countered. "And you made yourself a thief."

"Slander," he hissed.

"Reality," I replied.

Julian gripped the armrests of the heavy leather chair. His knuckles turned stark white. He dug his fingers in. His manicured nails scraped violently against the premium leather. The harsh, high-pitched squeal echoed through the dead-silent room.

"I am not leaving this seat," Julian declared. "I am Chairman. You are just a scorned ex-fiancée throwing a tantrum."

"Look around, Julian," I said. "No one is stepping in to save you."

"They don't know you, Harper. You are a ghost to the shareholders."

"They know my signature. That is all they require."

"The market will crash if I step down," Julian argued.

"The market surged when I filed the paperwork at dawn."

Julian flinched. He squeezed the armrests harder, his fingernails digging another gouge into the expensive upholstery.

"You broke my door on Saturday night," I said, keeping my gaze locked on his bruised face. "Did you think I would let you break my company on Monday morning?"

"That was a misunderstanding!" Julian defended.

"You swung a tire iron at shatterproof glass. The police report was very detailed."

"I was emotional! I lost my fiancée!"

"You lost your ATM."

"I will sue you for everything you own!" he yelled.

"With what money?" I asked. "Your accounts are frozen."

"I will find a way!"

"Get out of the chair, Julian."

"Make me move, Harper."

I did not raise my voice. I didn't need to.

I walked around the edge of the table. I stopped directly behind him.

He stiffened, but refused to turn around.

I placed both of my hands flat on the top edge of his chair back. I pressed down, trapping him in place. I leaned forward, lowering my face until my mouth hovered right next to his ear.

"I am going to count," I whispered, keeping my tone ice-cold.

"You are bluffing," he muttered.

"One."

Julian shifted his weight. The leather groaned under him. "The board will never accept you."

"Two."

"They need me!" he insisted, his voice pitching higher.

"Three."

I straightened my spine. I took my hands off his chair.

For a split second, Julian smiled. A smug, victorious smirk stretched across his bruised face.

"See?" Julian mocked, looking around the table. "Nobody is on your side."

The older board member at his right stood up.

A female shareholder on his left rose instantly to match him.

Julian looked between them. "What are you doing? Sit down."

Neither of them spoke.

The man reached across Julian's space. He grabbed the steaming ceramic coffee cup sitting next to Julian's notepad.

"Hey!" Julian barked. "That cost forty dollars."

"Bill it to your personal account," the man replied.

He tipped his wrist. He swept the cup right off the edge of the table.

It plummeted directly into the metal trash can beside Julian's leg.

The ceramic shattered on impact. Hot coffee splashed up, soaking the cuff of Julian's trousers.

Julian jumped, cursing loudly as the scalding liquid burned his ankle. He scrambled backward, pushing the heavy chair away from the table.

"Get out of Ms. Quinn's chair," the female shareholder ordered, her voice completely devoid of respect.

"You work for me!" Julian screamed at her.

"We work for the majority shareholder," the older man corrected. "And you are currently trespassing."

Julian stumbled away from the trash can, brushing frantically at his ruined pants. He looked at the twelve faces staring back at him. Every single expression held absolute disgust.

"You planned this," Julian accused, pointing a trembling finger at me.

"I planned nothing," I said. "I merely exposed you."

"I gave my life to Vance Tech!"

"You tried to drain it."

"I never stole a single dime from this company!" Julian roared, his face turning a blotchy red. "My accounts are perfectly clean!"

"Are they?" I asked.

"Yes!"

A loud electronic beep cut through the room.

The massive projector screen mounted on the far wall suddenly flashed to life.

Bright white light flooded the dim boardroom.

Julian spun around. The color drained from his face instantly.

Displayed in massive, glowing text across the seventy-inch screen was the Vance Tech encrypted backend server log.

A bright red error message blinked at the top.

*TRANSACTION FAILED: INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE.*

"What is this?" the female shareholder asked, narrowing her eyes at the screen.

"It appears to be a rat fleeing a sinking ship," I noted.

Below the error lay a detailed timestamp from 2:14 AM last night.

*Initiating User: Julian_Vance*

*Destination: Offshore Account 884-Cayman*

*Transfer Amount: $14,500,000.00*

*Status: BLOCKED.*

"I didn't authorize that transfer!" Julian lied, taking a step backward.

"Your thumbprint biometric was used," I pointed out.

"The system was hacked!"

"The system worked perfectly," I replied. "It stopped a thief in his tracks."

Julian stared at the glowing red letters. His breathing turned ragged. He looked completely cornered.

"You set me up," he whispered.

"I revoked your clearance at midnight," I said. "You just proved why."