He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 16

He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 16: The Boardroom Breach

Less than two hours after Chloe walked out of that apartment, Julian reached Vanguard’s executive boardroom on the sixty-second floor. I was already seated, my back to the room, my high-backed executive chair turned completely away from the circular mahogany table, my gaze fixed on the glass and the city lights flickering on below.

Behind me, Trent Rowe, Vanguard’s Chief Operating Officer, flipped a page in his quarterly report.

“We project a twenty percent reduction in overhead by cutting all external design contractors,” Trent announced to the silent room of board members.

A violent crash outside the frosted glass double doors interrupted him.

“You cannot go in there!” a male voice shouted.

“Get your hands off me!” Julian roared.

The heavy wooden doors burst open, slamming hard against the drywall.

I did not move. I stayed perfectly still, staring at the distant skyscrapers. The rich, imported leather of the chair pressed tight against my spine. Every single vertebra hummed with a sharp, violent urge to spin around and face him.

“Mr. Voss,” Trent said, his tone entirely flat. “You are interrupting a closed session.”

“Where is the majority shareholder?” Julian demanded. His dress shoes squeaked frantically against the polished marble floor. “Who is making the calls for this company?”

“Security is on the way,” a female board member, Elena Park, stated.

“I don’t care about security!” Julian yelled. “Someone in this room authorized the district attorney to pursue the fraud charges. I want a name. Now.”

“The state of New York pursued the charges,” Trent corrected calmly. “You forged a signature on a three-million-dollar loan. Vanguard simply supplied the forensic evidence.”

“It was a setup!” Julian slammed his fist onto the edge of the conference table.

The dull thud echoed through the massive room.

“Apex Financial lured me in,” Julian continued, his voice cracking with panic. “Your boss worked with Victor Kane to trap me. I demand to speak to whoever owns this company.”

“The identity of our primary investor is confidential,” Trent replied.

“I am facing a five-year mandatory minimum!” Julian screamed.

I gripped the padded armrests. My fingernails dug deep into the seams. He sounded entirely broken. The smooth, charming architect who had lied to my face for three years was gone. Only a terrified, cornered animal remained.

“That sounds like a personal legal issue,” Elena noted.

“I can offer a settlement.” Julian shifted tactics. I heard the rustle of his suit jacket as he patted his pockets. “I will sign over Reyes Interiors. I will surrender my entire client list. Just tell the DA to drop the Vanguard evidence.”

A sharp, unexpected bark of laughter broke the tension.

It came from David, the chief financial officer. “Reyes Interiors? Your accounts are frozen, and your business partner fled the state this morning.”

“How do you know that?” Julian snapped.

“Because we seized your office hardware an hour ago,” David answered. “You defaulted on the lease we co-signed.”

“You have no right!”

“We have every right,” Trent intervened. “You are a liability.”

“I just need five minutes with the owner!” Julian pleaded. The aggression drained from his voice, replaced by a sickening whine. “Please. I know how these things work. It’s all just numbers on a spreadsheet to guys like him. I can make him whole.”

“You possess absolutely nothing of value,” Trent pointed out.

“I have industry secrets. I have dirt on your competitors.”

“We don’t need dirt.”

“I will do whatever he wants!” Julian begged. “I will work for free. I will be a silent partner. Just please, do not let them send me to federal prison. I won’t survive it.”

Hours ago, he had been on his knees on a laminate floor, begging his mistress to stay, offering her a ring made of cubic zirconia. Now he was offering himself as an indentured servant to a phantom billionaire. The sheer pathetic nature of his bargaining curled my stomach.

“Guards,” Trent called out.

Heavy footsteps rushed into the room.

“No, wait!” Julian shrieked. “Let me pitch him! I know he is listening! These board meetings are always recorded.”

“Grab his arms,” the lead security guard ordered.

A brief scuffle broke out. Shoes scuffed the marble. Someone knocked over a glass of water, the liquid splashing loudly onto the floorboards.

“Stop!” Julian gasped, completely out of breath.

He suddenly cleared his throat. He tried to put on his professional, persuasive tone—the exact voice he used to charm me into funding his startup. The jarring shift from hysterical screaming to a measured pitch felt entirely unhinged.

“Sir,” Julian addressed the room at large, assuming the boss was watching through a camera. “I am a reasonable man. We can reach a mutual agreement. You drop the forensic report, and I walk away quietly. No press. No scandal.”

Silence fell over the boardroom. The directors waited for Trent to give the final word.

I kept my eyes on the window. The reflection in the glass showed the faint outline of Julian struggling against two massive men in uniform. His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder.

“Are you done, Mr. Voss?” Trent asked.

“Show yourself!” Julian yelled, abandoning the calm facade. “You coward! You ruined my life! You took my money, my car, my fiancée! Who the hell are you?”

Trent picked up his titanium pen.

He tapped the metal tip twice against the mahogany table.

The sharp clicks commanded the attention of every single person in the room.

Trent shifted his gaze past Julian. He looked directly at the back of my leather executive chair.

“Boss,” Trent said, his voice ringing crisp and clear through the tense air. “He wants to see you.”