BONDS UNBROKEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter Eight

“Chairman Marcellus Cedric,” CEO Briella finally managed to say.

It was as if lightning had struck her. Standing before them in a sharp black suit, Marcellus was breathtaking—if one could call a man beautiful, he was the definition. But it wasn’t only his looks that stole the room’s breath; it was his aura. Dark. Cold. Unshakable.

Unlike Briella, who had walked in with a warm smile, he wore an expression of ice. No trace of warmth, no flicker of recognition. Only power. Only distance.

Briella was still lost in confusion when she realized he had already stepped onto the stage beside her.

“Hello, the people of Nvidia Corporation and our esteemed guests,” his deep, cold voice resonated through the hall. A shiver passed through the crowd; some looked as though his words alone might crush them.

“I—” He had barely begun when Briella, overwhelmed, turned and walked out. Gasps and whispers followed her abrupt exit, leaving the hall stunned.

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On the rooftop of the event hall

Briella stood alone, staring up at the sky as though it could hand her the answers she desperately sought. Her heart was pounding, her mind a storm.

“Walking out on your Chairman? That’s rude.”

The familiar deep voice drifted from behind her. She spun around, and there he was—Marcellus.

“Why? Why did it take you so long?” she asked softly, her eyes locked on him. For three whole minutes, silence stretched between them, the night air heavy with unspoken pain.

“Did you get into an accident? Why didn’t you contact me? Did something happen?” she pressed, her voice trembling now.

Her eyes glistened as she whispered, “Do you know how worried I was? I missed you so much. You’ve changed… so much has happened while you were away, Marci.”

Tears finally broke free, slipping down her cheeks. But Marcellus said nothing. He only stood there, staring at her face as though memorizing every line, every tear, every breath—like a man who had finally found something he’d longed for, yet refused to reach out and claim it.

“Marci?” she whispered again, her hand brushing his arm, desperate for a sign of the boy she once knew.

“Marcellus,” he corrected, his voice suddenly soft.

“Huh?” Briella blinked in confusion.

“Chairman Marcellus Cedric,” he repeated, colder this time, his tone deep and final.

Her brows furrowed. “What does telling me your name have to do with any of my questions?”

“I have no reason to answer,” he said flatly. “I only came here to warn you—never walk out like that again, if you still value your job.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her frozen in place.

For five long minutes, Briella stood motionless, staring into the empty space he’d left behind, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Finally, she rushed downstairs and asked the guard if he had seen the Chairman.

“He already left,” the guard replied.

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One hour later – Briella’s residence

After spending more than thirty minutes in the bathtub, Briella now sat on her balcony, a half-empty glass of vintage 1989 Nyetimber wine in her hand. The night was cool, but her thoughts burned.

Marcellus’s behavior replayed endlessly in her mind. His face. His voice. His words that cut sharper than a knife.

“He’s only playing a prank on me,” she whispered to herself with a shaky laugh. “Yes… I’ll talk to him again tomorrow. He definitely won’t react that way again.”

But deep down, she wasn’t convinced.

The morning sun crept through her curtains hours later, golden and soft. Briella hadn’t slept. She forced herself into her routine—black pencil skirt, crisp white blouse, and light makeup. As she looked in the mirror, she wasn’t checking her reflection out of vanity. She only hoped… perhaps he might still see the girl who had once been his closest friend.

By the time she reached the Nvidia Corporation building, the air buzzed with gossip.

“Did you see him this morning?”

“He barely spoke, but the way he looked at people…”

“I swear the temperature dropped when he walked past.”

Briella held her composure, walking gracefully down the corridors, though inside, her stomach was twisted in knots.

The boardroom doors opened. There he was. Marcellus Cedric. Already seated at the head of the table, posture straight, expression unreadable. He didn’t so much as glance at her when she entered.

The meeting began. His voice was steady, commanding, sharp. He laid out strategies, deadlines, expectations—every word carved with authority. No hesitation. No softness.

Briella listened carefully, taking notes, waiting for her chance. Finally, she spoke:

“I believe if we adjust the launch timeline, it would align better with the London market’s—”

“Unnecessary,” Marcellus cut her off without even looking at her. “We will proceed as scheduled.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

A hush fell over the table. Several executives shifted uncomfortably. No one had ever dared to interrupt Briella before. She was their CEO, their leader. Yet here was the new Chairman, dismissing her as though she were any other employee.

Briella swallowed her pride and sat back. Her face remained calm, but her fingers tightened around her pen.

The meeting ended without another word between them.

When most of the staff had dispersed, Briella lingered, then made her way to his office. She knocked once, entered, and found him standing by the window, hands in his pockets, staring at the city skyline.

“Marci,” she said softly. The word slipped out before she could stop herself.

He turned, slowly, his expression colder than the glass behind him.

“Address me properly,” he replied. “In this company, I am Chairman Cedric.”

Briella’s chest ached at the sound of her childhood nickname falling flat between them. She tried again, her voice firmer.

“Why are you doing this? Pretending as if we were strangers? After everything—”

“I have no obligation to explain myself,” he interrupted again. His tone was final, leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Briella’s eyes searched his face for any trace of warmth. Nothing.

She finally turned to leave, her heels clicking softly against the floor. Just as she reached the door, she caught her foot on the edge of the carpet and stumbled. Before she could fall, a strong hand gripped her arm, steadying her.

For one heartbeat, their eyes met. His touch was steady, protective, familiar. The Marcellus she knew flickered there, hidden beneath the mask. But then, as quickly as it came, he released her.

“Be careful,” he said flatly, and turned back to his desk.

Briella walked out without another word, her heart in turmoil.

That night, she sat on her balcony again, the city lights shimmering below. She poured herself another glass of wine, though it did little to ease the heaviness inside her. On her bedside table, the photograph of three smiling faces seemed to mock her—Genevieve, Marcellus, herself. So much had changed since that day.

With trembling hands, she turned the frame face-down.

Maybe tomorrow would bring answers. But tonight, all she had were questions.

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✨ End of Chapter Eight ✨