Chapter 5 - Boardroom Warfare
The glass-walled conference room at the City Development Office was silent.
Anna Bennett sat at the head of the long oak table, dressed in a sharp white power suit. Her laptop was open, her presentation ready. She looked serene, polished, and utterly in control.
The door clicked open, and Vincent Moretti walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual corporate blue; he wore a sharp, charcoal-black suit that radiated authority. Behind him was his legal team.
Anna didn't flinch. She simply looked up, her expression as smooth as glass.
"Mr. Moretti," she said smoothly. "I didn't realize Moretti Holdings was interested in maritime logistics. I thought you preferred high-risk private aviation."
The subtle jab about aviation made the air in the room instantly drop five degrees.
Vincent took the seat directly across from her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, locking his intense gaze onto hers. "I expand where I see value, Ms. Bennett. And right now, I see immense value in this room."
"A pity," Anna replied, clicking her presentation clicker. "Because this contract requires an entity with actual operational experience, not just deep pockets fueled by guilt."
The city council members present exchanged awkward glances.
For the next two hours, the presentation was a war zone. Vincent questioned every line of Anna’s logistics proposal, probing for weaknesses, trying to force her into a corner, trying to see the woman who used to yield to him, the woman who used to look at him with soft, adoring eyes.
But Anna didn't yield. She countered every corporate trap with surgical precision. She knew shipping lanes, port tariffs, and labor union regulations better than any executive in the room. She was ruthless, brilliant, and completely untouchable.
When the meeting adjourned, the council members quickly excused themselves, sensing the thick, toxic tension between the two tycoons.
As soon as the door closed, Vincent stood up and walked around the table, blocking Anna’s exit as she packed her leather briefcase.
"You've changed," Vincent said, his voice low, dripping with a mixture of pain and admiration. "The Anna I knew hated corporate politics. She wanted to open an art gallery in Florence."
Anna closed her briefcase with a sharp snap. She stepped close to him, looking up into his eyes without an ounce of fear.
"The Anna you knew is six feet under a fake gravestone in Graceland Cemetery, Vincent," she said softly, dropping the formal title for the first time.
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Vincent’s heart leaped. "You admit it! You are Anna!"
Anna sneered, a small, cruel smile touching her red lips. "I admit nothing. But even if I were her... what makes you think she would ever want to be found by the man who traded her life for his mistress?"
