As Broad stepped through the company’s front doors, several board members descended on him like vultures.
Stephen, the true power behind the board, led the charge. He slammed Westbrook’s termination notice onto the table with such force that the coffee cups rattled.
“Care to explain this mess, Broad?” His voice was cold enough to freeze the entire conference room. “Or should we start using these so-called ‘eco-friendly materials’ as dinnerware?”
The other board members, dressed in their sharp suits, chuckled mockingly. Broad, however, remained composed. “If you would take a moment to review Clause 12-Westbrook’s unilateral termination requires them to pay 20% of the contract value. As for the materials, I’ve already started reaching out to potential-”
He was cut off by Nick, a rotund man with a booming voice, who grabbed the contract with Westbrook and hurled it at Broad.
“Pay? Broad, take a good look at the contract!” Nick barked. “It clearly states that if the termination is caused by Kova Industries, Westbrook doesn’t owe us a single cent!”
Broad’s head buzzed as memories of signing the deal with Simba flooded back.
He had questioned that particular clause at the time.
But Simba had clapped him on the back-hard enough to rattle his bones-and said with feigned camaraderie, “Kid, I trust your ability. That clause? Just meaningless legal jargon.”
Caught up in Simba’s illusion of brotherhood and what seemed like a foolproof deal, Broad had signed without hesitation.
Now, the truth was glaringly obvious-Charlotte and Simba had been setting him up from the start.
Facing the board, Broad knew excuses were futile. Admitting his ex-wife had orchestrated this disaster would only make him look even more incompetent.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. “Gentlemen, we still have an ace up our sleeve-the Sora Group’s Ski Championship.”
Stephen sneered. “You actually expect us to trust you again, Broad? This isn’t the first time!”
“You’ve got seventy-two hours, Broad,” Nick said, delivering the final ultimatum. “Either get rid of those materials or pack up your desk.”
—
Broad stumbled home, collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. He shut his eyes tightly, his temples throbbing as if his skull might burst. Three days. Just three short days to sell the stockpile of eco-friendly materials.
Vivienne appeared beside him, carrying a plate of fruit. Her voice dripped with artificial concern. “Darling, are you okay?”
Broad didn’t have the energy to respond. He simply shook his head weakly.
Feigning tenderness, Vivienne reached out to massage his temples, but he shoved her hand away.
“I’ve had enough. Just leave me alone, will you?”
Her face fell instantly. “Broad, are you seriously taking your work frustrations out on me? Real mature.”
Her words ignited the powder keg.
“For God’s sake, Vivienne, have you even been listening to me? I’m about to lose my job! Who has time to care about your ‘feelings’ right now?”
“What?!” Her face went pale. “What happened?”
“Westbrook canceled the deal. We’re not getting the final payment, and all the raw materials are stuck in our hands!”
“You’re joking!”
Vivienne sat up straight, her panic barely concealed. What truly terrified her wasn’t the failed deal-it was the potential loss of her private investments tied to Westbrook.
“Has the company’s stock been affected?” she asked cautiously, her voice tight.
“For the love of God-shut up!” Broad roared. “I’m fighting to save my job, and all you care about is your damn stock portfolio?”
—
By midnight, the two lay stiffly in bed, the oppressive silence suffocating. Both pretended to sleep, yet each knew the other was wide awake.
When Broad sighed for the umpteenth time, Vivienne could no longer stand it. She grabbed her robe, stormed onto the balcony, and lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
Her phone glowed faintly in the darkness. Her thumb hovered over the name “Thomas” in her contacts-her father, the man who had once predicted this marriage was doomed to fail.
She took a deep drag from her cigarette and pressed the call button.
The phone rang five times. Six.
“Vivienne.” Her father’s voice was as icy as ever. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Father-” Her pulse raced. “I need your help.”
“Go on.”
“Broad’s company has a stockpile of eco-friendly materials. They’re looking for buyers,” she said, hesitating before adding, “I know your company has a need for such products.”
“Hmm. Are the prices reasonable?” Thomas sounded intrigued.
“Of course! Absolutely rock bottom,” Vivienne promised eagerly.
On the other end, Thomas sat alone in the dark, his brown eyes gleaming with a calculating light. His wealth had been built on less-than-ethical dealings, often skirting the edges of legality.
Recently, a partner had delivered a batch of subpar but cheap eco-friendly materials. Thomas had been racking his brain for a way to launder these goods into the retail market.
Now, Broad’s crisis presented a golden opportunity to mix the good with the bad and let Broad take the fall if things went south.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Thomas said smoothly. “This is a minor issue for me. I’ll call Broad tomorrow and take the materials off his hands.”
—
Broad was still tossing and turning in bed when Vivienne burst into the room, shattering his fragile attempt at sleep.
He shot upright, ready to scold her, but her excited voice cut him off.
“Darling, you don’t need to worry! My father has agreed to take all your eco-friendly materials!”
“What?!” Broad couldn’t believe his ears.
“Yes, darling. He’s willing to help you.” Vivienne’s face beamed with triumph, every pore radiating satisfaction.
Broad fell silent, his mind racing. The problem that had been crushing him for days-resolved in an instant.
He studied Vivienne’s face. She might not possess Miranda’s striking beauty, but her delicate features held a quiet charm.
More importantly, she was a woman willing to go to great lengths for him. Unlike Miranda, who had fought tooth and nail during their divorce.
A wave of guilt washed over him. He had treated Vivienne poorly in the past. She deserved… some kind of recompense.
Perhaps, he thought, a wedding ring.