Chapter 409
[ 1,040 words ]
Delia’s POV
“Nobody explained the structure of the offer to me before I went,” I said. “I assumed the proposal in the folder had already accounted for that p>
“You should have asked before you walked into that room,” Noah said. “You should have understood exactly what we were offering and why, closely enough to answer a simple follow-up question without hesitating. Instead, you handed Julian Windsor the exact confirmation he needed that this company does not know what it is doing p>
“I am not the one who drafted the proposal,” I said, my own frustration finally cracking through the careful composure I had been holding onto since I left Julian’s office.
“No,” Noah said. “But you are the one who delivered it, and delivery is exactly what I am paying you for. I need someone in these rooms who understands enough about how this business actually works to catch a mistake like this before it reaches someone like Julian Windsor. Clearly, that is not you p>
The words landed harder than I wanted them to.
“I will fix this,” I said. “I will find a way to smooth it over before the gala p>
“See that you do,” Noah said. “Because right now you have handed WEG a reason to walk into our launch already thinking this company does not know what it is doing. That is not a small mistake, Delia. That is the kind of mistake that costs contracts p>
He ended the call before I could say anything further.
I sat there in the quiet of the parking garage for a long time afterward, staring at the rejected folder on the passenger seat, feeling smaller than I had felt in weeks, smaller even than the moment Tessa Sterling had dismantled me across a restaurant table with the entire city apparently watching.
I had walked into Julian’s office believing, foolishly, that I finally had something real to offer, something that might prove my usefulness beyond seating charts and guest lists.
Instead, I had simply handed him one more reason to look at me the way everyone else in this city had started looking at me lately.
Like a woman who had spent two years standing in rooms she never actually understood.
Katia’s POV
Sam sat across from my desk with her tablet open and that look she got when she already knew the answer but wanted me to say it out loud.
“Why did Delia make an appointment?” she asked.
I kept scrolling through the quarterly numbers on my screen.
“I don’t give much of a shit,” I said. “I’ve been civil. I’ve answered her calls. I’ve stayed out of the press when she tried to drag me into it. She still treats me like I personally ordered her to play house with a man who never wanted her. That’s her problem, not mine p>
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“She’s listed under Vesper Group. Same company that sent the gala invitations p>
“I noticed p>
“You going to take the meeting p>
“She’s already on the calendar. Cancelling now just gives her another story to sell. Let her come. I’ll listen. Then I’ll send her back to whoever is pulling her strings p>
Sam opened her mouth to say something else when my phone lit up with Julian’s name. I answered on speaker.
“You’re on speaker with Sam,” I said.
“Vesper Group wants to invest in WEG,” Julian said without greeting. His voice was flat, the way it got when something annoyed him more than it surprised him.
I laughed.
“Of course they do. These Vesper people are using my sister. Delia doesn’t know anything about business beyond posing for cameras and smiling at the right tables. She’s hungry to stay valid, so they’ll keep sending her into rooms she doesn’t understand until it stops being useful p>
“If they wanted to approach WEG they could have at least done their homework,” Julian said. “The offer is structured like we’re the ones who need capital. It’s insulting p>
“I figured. I’ll see you at home p>
“Be careful with her p>
“I’m always careful p>
I ended the call. Sam was already standing, gathering her things with a small, knowing smile.
“This should be entertaining,” she muttered.
The door to my office burst open before she reached it.
Delia stood there in a tailored suit that still carried the price tag of someone trying too hard. Her expression was pure performance. Chin high. Shoulders back. The same look she wore when she used to walk into rooms on Julian’s arm and pretend the marriage was real.
I smiled.
Sam made a sound that was almost a laugh, smothered it, and slipped out, closing the door behind her carefully.
Delia stepped forward like she owned the carpet.
“Mrs. Windsor,” she said, voice bright and false. “I’m Delia Kensington and I believe we have a meeting p>
I looked at her, amused.
“Nice meeting you, Ms. Kensington. How may I help you p>
The formality sat between us like a loaded gun. She knew I was playing. I knew she hated it. She still opened the folder she carried and slid a thin proposal across my desk.
“My company would like to invest in IT Technologies,” she said. “Here is the proposal p>
I didn’t touch it.
“Do you know what IT Technologies actually does?” I asked.
Delia’s smile tightened.
“It’s one of the divisions under the larger structure. Vesper is interested in a strategic stake p>
“IT Technologies handles cybersecurity contracts for three government agencies, private infrastructure for two major banks, and proprietary threat-detection software that isn’t for sale. Which part exactly is Vesper planning to invest in? The classified contracts they can’t touch, the banking systems that require clearances they don’t have, or the software that isn’t on the market p>
She hesitated. The pause lasted one second too long.
“You can read the proposal,” she said.
I leaned back in my chair and studied her.
“Sis, are you okay p>
The question came out genuine. I almost surprised myself. She looked thinner than the last time I had seen her. The sharp edges were still there, but underneath them was something frayed.
Delia’s face twisted.
“I’m perfectly okay,” she said, voice rising. “Especially since you took my husband and fucked him for the past two years p>
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