Chapter 3: Meet the board
1632 Words
---
The Cole Group Tower looked like it was judging me.
50 floors of glass.
My reflection in it looked small.
Navy dress. Low heels. Hair pinned up.
I looked like I belonged.
I didn’t feel like I did.
“Ready?” Adrian asked. He was in full CEO mode.
Charcoal suit. No smile.
We hadn’t talked about last night.
The blanket. The arm around me. The _Clause 9_.
Pretend it didn’t happen. That was the rule.
“No,” I said honestly.
“Good,” he said. “Neither was I, four years ago.”
The elevator was silent.
Only the two of us and 50 floors to go.
At floor 48, he said, “My father will be there.”
“Victor Cole,” I said. “I remember.”
“He’s the reason—” Adrian stopped himself.
“The reason you left me at the altar,” I finished. “Yeah. I remember that too.”
The elevator dinged.
---
*The Boardroom.*
Long table. Black leather chairs.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan spread out like a toy.
And 7 men.
All 60+. All white hair. All suits that cost more than my car.
And at the head:
*Victor Cole.*
Silver hair. Cold eyes. Adrian’s jaw, but meaner.
He looked at me like I was a stain.
“Adrian,” Victor said. No hug. No dad. Just business. “And this must be the wife.”
“Zara Cole,” Adrian said. His hand found my lower back.
Steady. Possessive.
“Zara, this is the board.”
I nodded. “Gentlemen.”
One of them, Mr. Hendricks, cleared his throat.
“Ms. Bennett,” he said. “Or is it Cole now?”
“Cole,” I said. My voice didn’t shake. “Legally.”
Victor smiled. It wasn’t nice.
“Sit.”
---
The next hour was hell.
PowerPoint. Charts. The $2 billion merger with Vantrix Tech.
All I had to do was sit there. Look pretty. Look married.
“Zara,” Victor said suddenly.
“Yes, sir?”
“What exactly do you do? For work?”
“I’m an art curator,” I lied. Adrian’s line. “At Bennett Gallery in Chelsea.”
“Bennett Gallery,” Mr. Hendricks repeated. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s small,” I said. “Boutique. We focus on emerging artists.”
“And your family?” Victor asked. “What do your parents do?”
“My mom is a teacher,” I said. “Retired. My dad passed when I was 16.”
Victor and Hendricks exchanged a look.
The look said: _Gold digger._
Adrian’s hand tightened on my knee under the table.
Warning. _Don’t react._
“Interesting,” Victor said. “And how did you and my son meet?”
“At a gallery,” Adrian answered for me. Smooth. “Four years ago. We reconnected recently.”
“Reconnected,” Victor repeated. “How romantic.”
The sarcasm could’ve cut glass.
Then the doors opened.
And she walked in.
*Amber Cole.*
White pantsuit. Hair perfect. Phone in hand.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said. “Traffic from the shoot.”
Victor stood up. “Amber. Good to see you.”
Adrian went rigid next to me.
Amber sat down. Right across from me.
“Hi, Zara,” she said. Sweet. Poisonous. “Love the dress. Is it new?”
“Gift,” I said.
“From Adrian?” she asked. “Or from the contract?”
The room went silent.
“Amber,” Adrian said. Low. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m a shareholder,” she said, smiling. “10%. My dad left it to me. I have a right to be here.”
Right. Her dad. Former Cole Group CFO.
Dead 2 years ago.
Victor cleared his throat. “Amber, this is a closed meeting.”
“And I’m closing it,” she said. “With some concerns.”
She pulled out her phone.
Put it on the table.
A photo.
Me. 4 years ago. In a white dress.
Crying in front of a church in the Hamptons.
Caption on the photo: _He left._
“I just think,” Amber said, “the board should know who they’re letting represent the Cole name.”
My face went hot.
Adrian stood up. “That’s enough.”
“Is it?” Victor said. “Because I’d like to hear this.”
Adrian looked at me.
I could see it in his eyes. _I’m sorry._
“Four years ago,” Adrian said, “I made a mistake. I hurt Zara. I take full responsibility.”
Victor laughed. “A mistake? You humiliated her in front of 300 people.”
“Yes,” Adrian said.
The honesty knocked the air out of me.
Amber leaned forward. “And now you’re marrying her for business? That’s so much better, Adrian.”
“That’s enough,” Adrian said again.
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
I stood up. Hands shaking.
“Yeah. I was the girl at the altar,” I said. “And yeah, it hurt. For a long time.”
I looked at Victor.
“But I’m not here because I need your approval, Mr. Cole. I’m here because your son asked me to help him. And because my mom is in the hospital and I signed a contract to save her.”
I turned to Amber.
“And I’m not here to fight you for a man. I’m here because he asked me to be his wife for one year. So I am.”
I sat down.
Silence.
Then Mr. Hendricks clapped. Once.
“Well,” he said. “She’s got spine.”
Victor’s face was stone.
Adrian didn’t look at me.
But under the table, his hand found mine.
And he squeezed.
---
*After the meeting.*
We walked out.
Didn’t talk until we were in the elevator.
“Why did you do that?” Adrian asked.
“Do what?”
“Defend yourself. Defend us.”
“Because it’s true,” I said. “And because I’m tired of people talking about me like I’m not here.”
The elevator stopped.
Floor 1. Lobby.
Amber was waiting.
“Zara,” she said. “Can we talk? Alone?”
Adrian stepped forward. “No.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be 5 minutes.”
He looked like he wanted to argue.
“5 minutes,” he said finally. “I’ll be in the car.”
---
*Coffee shop across the street.*
Amber ordered a $14 matcha. I got water.
“You did good in there,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“I’m not here to fight,” she said. “Okay, I am. But not like that.”
I waited.
“Adrian and I were together 3 years,” she said. “He proposed. Twice.”
I didn’t react.
“The first time, his dad said no. The second time, he called it off himself.”
She looked at me. “Sound familiar?”
“What do you want, Amber?”
“I want you to know,” she said, “that he doesn’t do love. He does business. And when this year is up, he’ll let you go just like he let me go. Just like he let you go.”
She stood up.
“Good luck, Mrs. Cole. You’re gonna need it.”
She walked out.
---
*8pm. Penthouse.*
I was exhausted.
I kicked off my heels and went straight to the guest room.
My phone buzzed.
Adrian: _Dinner. 8:30. Kitchen._
I went.
He was cooking.
Actually cooking. Pasta.
In a $24M penthouse.
“You didn’t have to do that in there,” he said without looking up.
“Do what?”
“Lie for me.”
“I didn’t lie,” I said. “I told the truth.”
He plated the pasta. Handed me a bowl.
We ate in silence.
“Victor’s going to dig,” he said finally. “Into your family. Into you.”
“I know.”
“And Amber’s going to make this hard.”
“I know.”
He looked at me. “Why did you sign, Zara? Really?”
“My mom,” I said.
“That’s not all.”
I put my fork down. “Because 4 years ago, you were the only person who ever made me feel safe. And I was stupid enough to think maybe... maybe that was still in there somewhere.”
His jaw ticked.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Hope.”
I laughed. Bitter. “Too late.”
I stood up. “I’m going to bed. Guest room.”
“Zara.”
I stopped.
“Thank you,” he said. “For today.”
I nodded. Walked away.
In the guest room, I checked my phone.
Headline:
*BILLIONAIRE CEO'S NEW WIFE HAS A PAST*
Photo: Me, 4 years ago, crying.
Comment from Amber: `Sending love to everyone involved ❤️ Healing is a journey`
2.4M likes.
I threw my phone across the room.
At 11pm, there was a knock.
Adrian. In sweatpants. Hair wet.
“Power’s out again,” he said. “Whole block.”
“Of course it is,” I muttered.
“Fireplace in the master,” he said. “It works.”
I looked at him. “Clause 8?”
“Clause 8,” he agreed.
I followed him.
Same bed. Same distance.
But this time, neither of us pretended we didn’t remember last night.
He turned off the light.
“Goodnight, Zara.”
“Goodnight, Adrian.”
5 minutes later, I felt his hand.
On top of mine.
On the blanket.
He didn’t move it.
And neither did I.
---
- Writer
