Chapter 8
712words
All talent and management were informed that the company had been acquired and the new CEO would be introduced.
Daniel and his manager were specifically required to attend.
That morning, I selected a razor-sharp black Armani suit, applied blood-red lipstick, and stepped into five-inch Louboutins.
When I pushed open the conference room door, everyone rose.
Daniel stood among them.
When he saw me, the blood drained from his face.
He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
I took my place at the head of the table and crossed my legs deliberately.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Alice Walton, CEO of Walton Media Group. As of today, this agency belongs to me."
The room fell deathly silent.
My eyes found Daniel's.
"Surprised, Mr. Daniel?"
His mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged.
"The agency will undergo significant restructuring. Talent and projects that don't align with our new direction will be terminated."
I paused for effect.
"Mr. Daniel, I see your contract expires at the end of this month. We'll need to reassess your commercial value before considering renewal."
Daniel finally found his voice.
"Alice, can we speak privately?" His voice quavered.
"This is strictly business, Mr. Daniel. If you have concerns, my legal team will be happy to address them."
I stood and smoothed my jacket.
"Meeting adjourned. HR will handle any further questions."
Folder in hand, I strode toward the exit, my heels clicking purposefully.
I passed Daniel without a glance.
The sharp report of my heels echoed through the stunned silence.
The door closed behind me.
My assistant waited outside.
"Your next meeting is in—"
"Cancel it. I'm returning to my office."
"Right away."
I pressed the elevator call button.
As the doors slid open, I heard frantic footsteps behind me.
"Alice!"
Daniel's voice.
Without turning, I stepped into the elevator.
He lunged forward, slipping inside just before the doors closed.
We were alone in the elevator.
He stood before me, panting.
"Please, we need to talk—"
"There's nothing to discuss." I watched our reflections in the polished doors. "Mr. Daniel, please maintain appropriate distance."
"Alice, I know I was wrong. I wasn't thinking clearly—"
"And?" I turned to face him. "You expect forgiveness?"
"I'll end things with Susan! I'll make a public apology! Please, for what we once meant to each other—"
I laughed sharply.
"What we had? Mr. Daniel, our relationship died the moment you said I wasn't 'good enough for you' in that green room."
The elevator reached the parking garage.
The doors opened, and I stepped out.
Daniel scrambled after me.
"Alice, please..." His voice grew increasingly frantic. "I was so wrong. We can start over—"
I stopped and turned.
"You think I care who you're with?" I enunciated each word precisely. "Mr. Daniel, you vastly overestimate your importance."
I continued toward my car.
My white Maserati gleamed coldly under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Suddenly, Daniel dropped to his knees.
I paused and turned.
He knelt on the cold concrete, palms pressed to the floor, head bowed in supplication.
"Alice, I'm begging you..." His voice broke. "My career is all I have left... Please, just one more chance..."
Watching him grovel reminded me of two years earlier.
Two years ago, he'd knelt on one knee with a ring.
He'd promised to cherish me for a lifetime.
I'd said yes.
His "lifetime" had lasted less than two years.
I approached him, towering above his crumpled form.
"Mr. Daniel, get up."
He looked up, eyes wild with desperation.
"Please..."
"Stand up," I repeated coldly. "You look pathetic."
He flinched as if slapped.
I turned and continued to my car.
I slid into the driver's seat.
I lowered the window. He remained on his knees.
"Mr. Daniel, I'll say this once: I don't hate you anymore, just as I wouldn't hate a piece of trash on the street. You were merely a detour in my life. Now I've moved on."
The window glided up.
The engine purred to life, and I drove away.
In my rearview mirror, Daniel remained on his knees in the empty garage.
I accelerated up the ramp and into the sunlight.
The sun was blinding. I slipped on my sunglasses, feeling utterly serene.
