Chapter 9

"To you, being Mrs. Foster might sound like a joke." Victoria got to her feet, her gaze sweeping across every face in the room. "But the one useful thing I learned in those three years with the Fosters is this. Any right written into a contract can be enforced if you really want it. If you don't get it, it's not because you don't have the right. It's because you don't have the guts to ask for it."

With that, she picked up her bag and walked out of the meeting room.

Behind her, the room stayed dead silent. No one laughed again.

During the first week after taking over the company, there wasn't a single night Victoria went to bed before two in the morning.

She read through the last three years of financial statements from start to finish, compared and analyzed the list of current clients against the lost ones, and reviewed every contract the company was still carrying out. The more she read, the more serious the problems looked. Lane Trading's problem wasn't just a broken cash flow. The deeper issue was an outdated business model and sloppy management.

But all of that could be fixed. The thing that really gave her a headache was something else.

Ten days after the divorce, Victoria got a phone call. The number wasn't saved, but she recognized the string of digits at once. Claire Sinclair.

"Vicky, long time no see." Claire's voice was as soft as ever, sweet like a marshmallow soaked in honey. "I heard you've been busy with your family's company lately. Must be rough. Want to come out for coffee? There's something I'd like to say to you."

Victoria leaned back in her office chair, spinning a pen between her fingers. Of course she knew what Claire wanted to say. In her last life, after the divorce, Claire had also asked to meet her. She'd gone on and on about how Stephen still cared about her and how she should take good care of herself, sounding so sincere she could've passed for an old friend. Back then, Victoria had believed her. She'd even thought Claire wasn't that bad after all. Then Claire had turned right around and leaked details of her dates with Stephen to gossip accounts, making the whole city know that the president of Foster Group had found a new woman almost immediately after his divorce, while Victoria became the pathetic abandoned ex-wife.

"Sure," Victoria said. "Where?"

"That Starbucks downstairs from your office. Easy for you."

Victoria hung up with the slightest smile on her lips. That Starbucks downstairs. Claire had picked it on purpose. The meaning couldn't have been clearer. She wanted people from Victoria's company to see that her ex-husband's new woman had come looking for her. What a juicy little show.

At three that afternoon, Victoria arrived at Starbucks right on time.

Claire was already seated by the window, wearing a pale yellow dress, makeup perfectly done, her hair draped over her shoulders. She looked gentle and innocent. Two coffees sat in front of her, a latte and an Americano. The latte was what Victoria used to love.

"Vicky, I ordered you a latte. Didn't you always love these?" Claire smiled sweetly.

Victoria sat down but didn't touch the latte. "I only drink Americanos now. Lattes are too sweet. They get old fast."

Claire's smile stiffened for a split second before recovering. "Vicky, I actually wanted to apologize. I think what happened between Stephen and me may have made you misunderstand a lot of things."

"Misunderstand what?"

"Stephen and I really are just colleagues. After you left, he was in a terrible mood and stayed in his office alone all the time. I only looked after him a little more because he was working so hard." Claire's eyes turned slightly red as she spoke. "If that upset you, then I'm sorry."

Victoria looked into Claire's eyes. They were full of sincerity and grievance, like some good person who'd been unfairly accused and was desperately trying to prove her innocence. If she hadn't lived through that last life already, Victoria thought she might actually have believed her.

"Ms. Sinclair, are you done?" Victoria picked up the Americano and took a sip. Bitter. Just right. "If you are, then let me say a few things."

Claire nodded, all ears.

"First, whether you and Stephen are just coworkers or not has nothing to do with me anymore. I'm divorced. If he goes and marries you tomorrow, the only thing I'll say is congratulations." Victoria set down the cup. "Second, you say you took care of him because he was working hard. Fine. Then answer me this. While you were taking care of him, did you know he was still married?"

Claire opened her mouth. "I..."

"Yes, you did," Victoria answered for her. "There were hundreds of people at Foster Group. Who didn't know the president was married? You're his personal secretary. You expect me to believe you didn't know? You're not innocent, Ms. Sinclair. You're just pretending to be."

Claire's eyes reddened even more. Tears shimmered in them, ready to fall at any second.

"Vicky, you really misunderstood..."

"Third." Victoria didn't let her finish. "You asked me to meet in the coffee shop downstairs from my company because you wanted my employees to see you, didn't you? You wanted them thinking that the boss's daughter had barely gotten divorced before the other woman came knocking. How humiliating. Ms. Sinclair, I stopped playing these little games when I was eighteen."

At last, Claire's face really changed. Not hurt. Not sadness. Just the awkward panic of someone whose little scheme had been seen through.

"What are you talking about? I never..."

"Whether you did or didn't, you know perfectly well." Victoria stood up, pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet, and set it on the table. "Coffee's on me. Oh, and one more thing, Ms. Sinclair. I think you should know this."

Claire looked up at her.

Victoria smiled. "That Tom Ford coat Stephen wears? I bought it. The cologne he uses? I bought that too. The plant in his office? Also mine. You're around him every day now, but everything you use, see, and smell came from me first. So tell me, does that really feel like a victory to you?"

This time, when Claire's tears finally fell, they weren't because she felt wronged. They were from anger.

Victoria turned and walked out of Starbucks, the glass door swinging shut behind her. After a few steps, she stopped, took out her phone, opened the recording app, and hit stop.

That recording would come in handy one day.