THE CEO’S STOLEN MUSE: RECLAIMING MY CROWN

SIENNA'S POV: The applause started three seconds before the presenter could even display my name. It cuts off, right on time. I know it’s my name being omitted because the formula on the screen behind the presenter is slightly off, but it’s obvious to anyone who truly understands how projections work. But of course no one cared to notice as they all rose to their feet, clapping and applauding the man walking onto the stage with enough practiced grace and confidence to entice even the Queen of England. I internally roll my eyes at the sight. Julian Vance adjusted his cufflinks as if the night was made for him. As the applause grew louder when he got on stage I remained seated, clapping slowly while the lights shone on his perfectly tailored suit. A suit that I paid for. The lights also illuminated his glossy shoes, custom-made, paid for with the consulting bonus from the project I designed at three in the morning on a legal pad while he slept beside me like a sucking child. Julian Vance, my deceitful loving husband. He lifted his hands, humble and loving every moment of his shine, soaking it all in. “This prestigious award,” the presenter said, beaming at Julian like he was some God, “recognizes innovation, resilience, and vision in modern urban development.” Julian and the rest of the crowd nod. I scoffed, crossing my legs under the table and pressed my heel into the marble floor until the cold steadied me. Behind him glowed ten feet tall structural stress projections, adaptive load balancing, an algorithm that recalibrates in real time. When it was first unveiled, the press called it revolutionary, the board members called it the second step for mankind. Julian Vance called it his. My work, his. As Julian gave his speech a woman at my table leaned in, breath warm with expensive champagne. “You must be so proud of your husband,” she beamed. “Having him represent you in such a great manner.” I turned to her with a practiced smile of my own, lips stretching on my face but never meeting my eyes. “I am,” I said easily. “He is the brilliance this nation needs.” I mocked. Julian cleared his throat once more on stage. “This project, unlike others, was born out of countless nights refining the balance between risk and stability.” He gestured toward the screen. “What sets it apart is its self-correcting tolerance…” he paused, trying to remember my notes, “an innovation that allows the structure to respond to pressure before it becomes a failure.” “Heat and pressure…” I corrected him. “The woman beside me turned. “What?” She asked, confused. “Oh, nothing.” I simply replied. It was better than speaking to someone who was too deep in blissful ignorance. The applause filled the hall again. They all were deep in blissful ignorance. When the applause finally died down, Julian accepted the award, a sleek glass column engraved with our names engraved on it. His before mine of course, as usual. He didn’t mention me once in this speech. No acknowledgment, nothing. I watched as his hand wrapped around what should have been mine. The gala continued like they had not just witnessed daylight robbery. I don’t blame, Julian was good at deception. When Julian finally escapes the crowd of investors and admirers he finds me near the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass of my own, filled with brown liquid. “Sienna,” he said out of breath, still not over the high of his award. “There you are.” “Congratulations,” I replied dryly. He smiled wider. “Thank you. Tonight went well as usual.” He flicked his fingers toward the bartender for a drink. “It did.” I agreed. A pause. “You could have come up,” he sipped his drink. “Stood beside me.” I held my tongue, tried my best not to click it or lose my composure. He always did this to fulfill all righteousness, to make it seem I was the one running from the spotlight when in reality he was the one who pushed me out of the spotlight. I would have ignored it all, let it roll off my back like always. But tonight I couldn’t do that, this was a project I spent countless nights on, a project I took my time to curate. Project Alix was mine. And he stole it from me, all in the name of not wanting to expose me to the dangerous world of business. I met his eyes. “You didn’t invite me up, didn’t even give me a little bit of recognition.” Something flickered in his calm facial expression for a split second. Annoyance. “Please, let’s not do this here,” he murmured looking over his shoulder. “Not tonight.” “Not tonight, not last night, not the night before that during the FOSSA awards night, not even the other nights before that.” I respond bitterly, biting the skin of my cheeks. He straightened, scanning the area once more before lowering his voice. “We talked about this, Sienna.” We actually did one time, where he kept trying to gaslight me. “Visibility matters,” he continued. “The board trusts me. And frankly it’s better that way.” I frowned. “Better for who, Julian?” He exhaled like I’m the inconvenience. “I do all this for you, Sienna, for your—” “My safety?!” I hissed. “Then why do you keep stealing my glory? Having my name removed from bulletins and business meetings? Why are you climbing the stage, giving the speech and taking the awards?” I pointed at the glass column. “Is that your definition of protection?” “You wouldn’t last a second under all the pressure Sienna, you should be grateful I’m taking the heat.” He hissed right back. “I was, but I want what’s mine now. You’ve protected me enough, I’m ready to take whatever stone this world is preparing to throw at me.” I glared at him. His nostrils flared and he was about to raise his hands before the bartender came into view, watching us but not interrupting. Julian exhaled and stepped back and grabbed the award, his fingers covering my name while his stood cold. “I’ll see you at home when you’re reasonable.” He said, already stepping away. I didn't stop him as he walked away. Instead I took a sip of the drink in my hand and let the hot liquid burn my throat, trying to match the pain in my chest. The drive home was quiet. I watched as the city moved behind me, and glass and steel stretched before me. Structures were beautifully held together by calculations no one thanked the engineer for when they didn't fail. At home, the penthouse was lit as usual, a complete opposite of what it housed within. I spotted Julian’s shoes by the door and his jacket hung on the rack. But what caught my attention was the familiar lady shoes that sat comfortably next to his. They were familiar because I did remember buying them from my trip to Greece but they weren’t mine. I bought them as a gift for someone else. I set my clutch down carefully just as a low laugh comes from my study. I followed the sound, heart pounding in my chest like a jack hammer. The door of the study was slightly ajar and inside stood Julian, his back on me. But seated in front of him with her hands to his manhood, is Lydia. My step sister, Lydia. “We’re so close to getting you to stand beside me instead, baby.” Julian patted her head.