Chapter 15: Showdown
1440words
Alexander was already there, engaged in quiet conversation with his CFO. He looked up as I entered, our eyes meeting briefly before we both resumed our professional masks.
"Ms. Hamilton," he greeted formally, extending his hand. "Thank you for agreeing to these discussions."
"Mr. Blackwood," I replied, matching his tone. "Let's hope they prove productive."
The formality between us felt strange after the intimacy we'd once shared, but perhaps necessary as we navigated this new relationship—business associates with a complicated personal history.
The meeting began with presentations from both sides—potential synergies, market projections, integration challenges. I presented the Hamilton perspective with a confidence that would have been impossible months ago, before Alexander had inadvertently helped me discover my own capabilities.
Throughout the morning, I was acutely aware of him watching me—his focus intense when I spoke, his occasional nods of agreement or thoughtful frowns at points of contention. We disagreed on several key issues, but the disagreements were respectful, productive—the interaction of equals rather than adversaries.
"Perhaps we should break for lunch," Alexander suggested after several hours of discussion. "Resume with the financial projections this afternoon."
As the teams dispersed, I found myself alone with Alexander for the first time since our meeting at the Harvard Club. The professional distance we'd maintained in front of others seemed to waver now that we were unobserved.
"You're very good at this," he said quietly. "Edward would be proud."
The mention of my grandfather, who had passed away peacefully a week earlier, brought unexpected emotion. "I hope so. I'm still learning."
"Learning faster than most," Alexander observed. "Your proposal for integrating the technology divisions was inspired."
"I had a good teacher," I replied, allowing a small smile. "Someone once showed me how to see beyond the obvious in business strategy."
His eyes softened at the acknowledgment. "Elena—"
The door burst open before he could continue, admitting Richard Blackwood with Victoria close behind him. Richard's expression was thunderous as he surveyed the meeting room—the merged seating arrangement, the combined presentations, the evidence of cooperation between companies he'd spent decades trying to keep apart.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, glaring at Alexander. "A merger discussion without the full board's approval?"
"Exploratory talks only," Alexander replied coolly. "Which is well within my authority as CEO."
"With Hamilton?" Richard spat the name like a curse. "Have you lost your mind?"
"On the contrary," I interjected, refusing to be spoken about as if I weren't present. "This potential merger represents significant value for both companies' shareholders. Something a board member should appreciate."
Richard's cold gaze shifted to me. "Ah, the contract bride speaks. Tell me, Ms. Winters—or is it Hamilton now?—how long have you been planning this corporate seduction?"
"That's enough, Richard," Alexander's voice was dangerously quiet. "You're interrupting a private business discussion. I suggest you leave before you say something you'll regret."
"Regret?" Richard laughed harshly. "The only regret here is that I didn't expose your sham marriage sooner. A contract arrangement designed solely to secure your inheritance—how do you think the board will react to that revelation?"
The room fell silent, tension crackling between us. I glanced at Alexander, seeing the calculation in his eyes as he weighed his options.
"You seem very concerned about my marriage," Alexander observed, his tone deceptively casual. "Almost as concerned as you were about my parents' merger plans twenty-five years ago."
Richard stiffened. "What are you implying?"
"I think you know." Alexander moved closer to his uncle, his height advantage making the older man step back slightly. "The authorities certainly do, now that they have the financial records linking you to both the sabotage of my parents' car and the current attempt to seize control of Blackwood."
The color drained from Richard's face. "Preposterous. You have no proof."
"Actually," I said, retrieving a folder from my briefcase, "we have quite a lot. Including records from my grandfather's archives showing your opposition to the original merger and threats made against both families."
Victoria's eyes widened as she looked between Richard and the documents I held. "Uncle Richard? What is she talking about?"
"Nothing," Richard snapped. "She's bluffing."
"Am I?" I opened the folder, removing a photograph of a much younger Richard with a man identified in my grandfather's records as the mechanic who had worked on both the Blackwood and Hamilton cars the night of the accidents. "The authorities have been very interested in this connection."
Richard's expression shifted from denial to fury. "You think you're so clever, both of you. Playing at business, playing at marriage." His lip curled in contempt. "Tell me, does the board know your marriage is a fraud? A contract arrangement with an expiration date?"
"That's irrelevant to the merger discussions," Alexander replied evenly.
"Is it?" Richard turned to me, his smile malicious. "Did he tell you about the clause in his grandmother's trust? That he must remain married for at least five years to retain control? Your little one-year arrangement was never going to be enough."
I kept my expression neutral despite the shock of this revelation. Alexander had never mentioned this detail—another secret kept, another truth withheld.
"Your attempts at distraction won't work, Richard," Alexander said, his voice steady despite the tension I could see in his shoulders. "The evidence against you is substantial. The board will be fully briefed this afternoon."
Richard's face contorted with rage. "You think you've won? That you can just merge with Hamilton and erase decades of competition? Your father tried that too, and look what happened to him."
The admission—so close to a confession—hung in the air between us.
"You should leave now," Alexander said quietly. "The authorities will be contacting you shortly."
For a moment, I thought Richard might lunge at Alexander—his hands clenched, body tense with fury. Instead, he turned abruptly and stormed out, Victoria following after a moment's hesitation and a confused glance between us.
When the door closed behind them, Alexander turned to me, his expression grave. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. About the trust terms."
"Five years?" I asked, the question I couldn't hold back. "You needed a five-year marriage?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes. But I only asked for one year from you because..." He hesitated, then finished quietly, "Because I didn't want you to feel trapped."
The admission—so at odds with the calculating businessman who had first proposed our arrangement—made my heart twist painfully in my chest.
"What would have happened after the year ended?" I asked.
"I had contingency plans. Other potential arrangements." His eyes held mine. "But Elena, after knowing you, I can't imagine any of them would have worked. No one else could have been what you were to me."
The past tense wasn't lost on me. What you were to me. Not what you are.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a calendar notification. I glanced down to see the alert I'd set weeks ago but forgotten in the chaos of recent events:
"Contract Marriage - Final Day."
Today marked exactly one year since I'd signed Alexander's contract in his office, agreeing to become his wife in exchange for financial security for my family. One year since I'd first felt the weight of his grandmother's emerald ring on my finger.
One year that had changed everything about who I was and what I wanted.
"Our contract would have ended today," I said softly, showing him the notification.
Alexander's expression shifted, something vulnerable breaking through his careful control. "Yes. It would have."
"And now?"
"Now," he replied, his voice low and intent, "I find myself wishing we'd never had a contract at all. That we'd met differently. Started differently."
"We can't change how we began," I said, the truth we both needed to acknowledge.
"No," he agreed. "But perhaps we can change how we continue."
The possibility hung between us—fragile, uncertain, but real. Before either of us could explore it further, the door opened as our respective teams returned from lunch, ready to resume negotiations that suddenly seemed both crucially important and entirely secondary to the personal negotiation happening between Alexander and me.
As we returned to our seats, the professional masks sliding back into place, Alexander's words echoed in my mind: Perhaps we can change how we continue.
The question was whether either of us was brave enough to try.
