When the Cheater Begs for My Forgiveness

The harsh white glare of the phone screen cut through the dim shadows of the control booth. I stared at the text message illuminating the glass.

The door is unlocked.

Alexander Sterling. The silent billionaire who held the puppet strings to the entire board.

I did not answer. I refused to type a reply. I pressed the side button, plunging the device into blackness, and shoved the phone deep into my pocket.

Down in the ballroom, absolute pandemonium reigned. The lapel mic Julian had hurled to the stage floor emitted a high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek. It echoed off the vaulted ceilings, driving several executives to cover their ears.

"Mrs. Vance," Leo stammered. He hovered over the massive soundboard, his fingers twitching above the dials. "Should I mute the feedback? People are shouting."

"Leave it," I instructed, stepping closer to the tinted glass partition.

I looked down at the five hundred guests. Arthur Pendelton, the finance head, was red in the face, jabbing his finger at a security guard who merely shrugged. Flashbulbs strobed like a frantic heartbeat across the St. Regis ballroom. Reporters shoved digital recorders into the faces of retreating executives.

Julian’s grand promotion ceremony was entirely dead. He planned to solidify his takeover of the company tonight. He wanted to be the undisputed king of the corporate world.

Instead, he was the punchline.

"They're leaving," Leo pointed out, his voice squeaking. "The investors from table one. They're actually walking out."

"Arthur hates public scandals," I said, tracking the older man as he stormed toward the exit. "He will call an emergency board meeting before his driver even pulls up to the curb."

I turned my back on the window and stepped toward the master console. My fingers closed around the cold metal of the 64GB silver USB drive plugged into the main port.

"What are you doing with that?" Leo asked.

"Taking my property." I yanked the silver drive free.

The control monitor blinked. Down on the stage, the massive eighty-inch LED display remained unchanged. The frozen CCTV image of Julian and Maya locked in the elevator stayed burned onto the screen for every camera lens to capture.

"You locked the projection system, right?" I asked.

Leo nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes. Nobody can change the feed from down there. Not without a master override from this booth."

"Good." I dropped the silver drive into my purse. It held every forged invoice, every deleted bank transfer, and seven years of my stolen labor. "You did your job today, Leo. You followed my instructions perfectly."

"He's going to fire me, Mrs. Vance. He's going to ruin my career."

"Julian will be far too busy fighting federal fraud charges to worry about a junior AV technician." I adjusted the leather strap of my purse on my shoulder. "Besides, I told you. I own forty percent. Tomorrow morning, you get a promotion. If HR gives you any trouble, you call me directly."

A heavy thud echoed from the hallway outside the control room.

My jaw tightened. I shifted my gaze toward the heavy steel door.

Thud. Thud.

Hurried, aggressive footsteps hammered against the carpeted floor of the corridor. They moved fast, eating up the distance between the elevator bank and our secluded booth.

"He's coming," Leo whispered. He backed away until his shoulders hit the glass partition. "Mr. Vance. He's coming up here."

"He is," I agreed.

I curled my hands into fists at my sides. My fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh of my palms. Sharp flares of pain shot through my skin. I pressed harder, feeling the tissue yield until wet, crescent-shaped red marks formed.

The pain grounded me. It kept the adrenaline from shaking my voice.

"Should I call building security?" Leo asked. His eyes darted toward the red emergency phone mounted on the wall.

"No. Let him come."

"He looked ready to kill someone down there."

"Julian lacks the spine for physical violence, Leo. He only fights when he knows his opponent refuses to hit back." I let out a short, hollow laugh. "He just figured out I hit back."

The footsteps grew louder. Someone kicked a metal trash can in the hallway. It crashed against the drywall with a deafening clatter.

"Clara!" a voice roared from the other side of the wall. Muffled, but saturated with raw fury.

"Stay behind the console," I told Leo.

"I can help you hold the door," the technician offered. His knees visibly trembled against the metal desk.

"The door stays open," I commanded. "If you try to block him, he will redirect his anger at you. You are an employee. I am his wife. He wants me."

"This is insane," Leo muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"This is accountability," I corrected.

Another loud bang struck the wall outside.

"Where is the override code?" Julian bellowed from the hallway. His voice echoed off the narrow walls, pitching higher with every word. "I know you're in there!"

"He sounds completely unhinged," Leo said.

"He's terrified. There is a massive difference."

I pictured the grand ballroom downstairs again. The catering staff abandoning the champagne towers. The board members frantically dialing their legal teams. Julian spent three months planning this gala. He obsessed over the seating chart, the lighting, the exact temperature of the room. He micromanaged every detail to ensure his perfect image remained intact.

I gave him reality.

The brass handle on the heavy steel door rattled violently.

"Open this door!" Julian screamed. The metal vibrated under his pounding fists.

I uncurled my fingers and examined the deep red indentations on my palms. I smoothed down the front of my blazer, ensuring not a single crease showed.

"Leo," I said, my tone perfectly level. "Step back into the corner."

Leo scrambled behind the tall server rack, hiding himself in the shadows.

The pounding stopped for a fraction of a second. Silence stretched tight across the small room.

Then, a massive force hit the center of the steel.

The door burst open, slamming against the interior wall with a crack that shook the floorboards.

Julian stood in the threshold, his silk tie hanging loose around his neck, the knot yanked halfway down his chest, and he pointed a trembling finger at my face as he furiously yelled, "Are you crazy? Cut it off right now!"