CHAPTER 5
1079 Words
The Vance estate in Greenwich, Connecticut, was less of a house and more of an English country castle imported brick-by-brick to America. A long, winding cobblestone driveway lined with towering oak trees led up to a massive stone mansion glowing with amber light against the dark, rainy night.
Dozens of high-end luxury sports cars were parked out front. Valets in crisp uniforms hurried back and forth under giant black umbrellas.
As the Maybach came to a smooth stop under the front portico, Elena felt a sudden, sharp tightening in her chest. This was it. Inside that mansion was Mark—the man who had discarded her like trash sixteen hours ago.
Alexander turned to her, noticing the slight tension in her jaw. He reached over, his hand resting firmly over hers. His palm was warm, solid, and strangely grounding.
"Nervous?" he asked quietly.
"No," Elena said, lifting her chin, her eyes flashing with renewed steel. "Hungry."
Alexander let out a low, approving chuckle. "Good."
Julian opened the car door. Alexander stepped out first, adjusting his suit jacket, then turned and offered his hand to Elena. She placed her fingers in his, stepping out onto the wet stone pavement. Alexander didn't let go; instead, he pulled her hand smoothly through the crook of his elbow, pressing her arm flush against his side.
They walked up the grand marble steps, two uniformed stewards opening the heavy oak doors to reveal a towering two-story foyer featuring a grand crystal chandelier, marble statues, and a sweeping double staircase.
The sound of classical piano music, clinking champagne flutes, and refined laughter drifted from the main ballroom.
"Ah, Alexander! You actually made it!" an authoritative, gravelly voice boomed from the top of the grand staircase.
Elena looked up. Descending the stairs was an elderly man in his late seventies. Despite his white hair, he possessed a posture like an iron rod, piercing blue eyes, and a commanding aura that practically screamed supreme authority.
Harrison Vance. The patriarch of the Vance family, founder of the empire, and Alexander’s formidable father.
"Father," Alexander acknowledged smoothly, stepping forward with Elena still firmly attached to his arm. "I told you I would attend."
Harrison’s sharp blue eyes landed on Elena, scanning her from head to toe with the calculated scrutiny of an old-money titan inspecting a new asset. "And who is this charming young woman? I don't believe we've been introduced."
"This is Elena Hayes," Alexander introduced, his voice carrying clearly across the grand foyer. "My new Senior Creative Director at Vance Enterprises—and my personal guest for the evening."
Harrison raised a snow-white eyebrow, a sharp, intrigued smile playing on his lips. "Senior Creative Director? At her age? Impressive. Welcome to the estate, my dear."
"Thank you, Mr. Vance," Elena said with a graceful nod. "It's an honor."
"Come, come," Harrison gestured toward the ballroom. "The entire family is gathered in the conservatory. Mark is currently holding court near the fountain, bragging about his new regional strategy."
Alexander’s arm tightened slightly around Elena’s, a subtle signal. "Is he? Let's go listen to his strategy, shall we?"
They walked through the arched doorway into the glass-domed conservatory. The room was breathtaking, filled with exotic tropical plants, marble fountains, and dozens of impeccably dressed members of the Vance family holding crystal champagne glasses.
And there, standing near the central marble fountain surrounded by four junior executives and a group of admiring cousins, was Mark.
He was wearing his tailored grey suit, holding a glass of scotch, laughing loudly as he gestured with his hand.
"...so I told the board, strategy isn't about research; it's about raw instinct," Mark was boasting loudly, his voice carrying over the music. "You have to know how to lead from the front. That's how I redesigned the Apex proposal..."
Elena felt a surge of pure, icy disgust. The Apex proposal was the ninety-page document she had stayed up until 3:00 AM completing three weeks ago while Mark was out drinking with his fraternity friends.
"Shall we interrupt his lecture?" Alexander whispered near her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
"Please," Elena murmured.
Alexander led her straight through the center of the conservatory. As the billionaire CEO moved through the room, conversation naturally died down, heads turning to watch Alexander Vance walk by.
Mark turned around, a broad, arrogant smile plastered across his face as he saw his billionaire uncle approaching. "Uncle Alexander! I am so glad you could make it tonight! I was just telling everyone about the quarterly regional metrics—"
Mark’s voice suddenly died. The smile on his face didn't just fade—it shattered into a million pieces.
His eyes drifted from Alexander’s face down to the stunning woman standing snugly on his uncle's arm, wearing a fifty-thousand-dollar diamond cuff and a burgundy dress that looked like a million bucks.
Mark’s glass of scotch wobbled in his hand. His face went completely drained of color, turning a sickly shade of ash white.
"E... Elena?" Mark choked out, his eyes wide with absolute horror and utter confusion. "What... what are you doing here?"
The entire conservatory fell dead silent. Dozens of Vance family members turned their attention directly toward the trio.
Elena stood tall, her hand resting comfortably against Alexander’s muscular arm. She offered Mark a slow, blinding, lethal smile.
"Good evening, Mark," Elena said, her voice smooth as silk and cold as ice. "I believe you forgot to turn in your weekly marketing summary before leaving the office today."
Mark swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically between Elena and his uncle. "Uncle Alexander... I don't understand. Why is my... why is she with you?"
Alexander placed his hand over Elena’s hand, his storm-grey eyes locking onto his nephew with a look of terrifying, absolute dominance.
"Show some respect to your superiors, Mark," Alexander commanded, his voice cutting through the silent room like a steel whip. "You are speaking to Elena Hayes. As of eight o'clock this morning, she is the new Senior Creative Director of Vance Enterprises."
Alexander leaned in slightly, his smirk lethal.
"Which means, starting Monday morning... she is your direct boss."
Mark’s scotch glass slipped from his fingers, shattering loudly against the marble floor.
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