Chapter 6: Six O'Clock
Alexander arrived at my office at three minutes past six.
He looked the way he always looked — unhurried, well-dressed, carrying the particular ease of a man who had never once walked into a room and doubted his welcome.
He glanced around the office, taking in the new nameplate on the desk, the rearranged furniture, the city darkening behind the windows.
"You've made it yours already," he said, and smiled.
"Sit down, Alexander."
Something in my voice reached him.
The smile stayed, but his eyes changed slightly.
He sat in the chair across from my desk — the same chair Sofia had sat in that morning — and set one hand on his knee.
"You sound serious," he said.
"It's a celebration."
"I found the email."
He didn't move.
"What email?"
"The one you sent to Harwick and Sole.
Six weeks ago.
Regarding the pre-emptive asset separation." I watched his face.
"The Westchester property.
The Cayman account.
The founder shares."
The smile faded by degrees, like a light being turned down slowly.
"Elena—"
"I also found Project Sunrise."
His hand on his knee went still.
"Forty-seven transfers from the company discretionary account," I said.
"Two hundred thousand dollars to your divorce attorneys, billed to Montalvo Global.
An apartment.
A car.
And a draft separation agreement that refers to me as *subject* and recommends stripping my ownership stake before I could legally defend it."
Alexander leaned back.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed — quieter, more careful.
"You don't understand the full picture."
"Then explain it to me."
"The transfers were authorized.
I have signature authority over that account."
"Signature authority for company operations.
Not for personal legal proceedings.
Not for an apartment registered to your secretary." I kept my voice even.
"Warren Chu has already reviewed the documentation.
His preliminary opinion is breach of fiduciary duty.
Renata Osei has a full audit ready for the board."
Something moved across his face.
Not guilt — calculation.
He was measuring distance, looking for a way out.
"You're going to destroy this company over a personal matter," he said.
"You used this company to fund a personal matter.
That distinction belongs to you."
He stood up.
Walked to the window.
Stood with his back to me for a moment, looking at the city the way men do when they're deciding which version of themselves to deploy next.
"I'll fight it," he said quietly.
"I have relationships on this board that go back twenty years.
You've been CEO for eight hours."
"Fourteen," I said.
"And the board ratified my operational authority unanimously.
Including the authority over Internal Audit and Legal Compliance." I paused.
"The same departments that spent today documenting everything."
He turned around.
For the first time since he had walked in, he looked at me — not at the room, not at the window, not at the version of me he had decided I was.
He looked directly at me.
"What do you want?" he said.
"Tonight?
Nothing from you." I picked up my phone.
"I want you to go home.
Tomorrow morning, your attorney — your personal attorney, not the one we've been paying for — will receive a formal notice from Warren Chu's office.
After that, the board will convene a special session." I set the phone back down.
"You should be there."
He stayed at the window a moment longer.
"I thought you'd be gone by now," he said.
It came out almost honestly.
"I thought you'd see the filing and step back.
Take a settlement.
I didn't think you'd—"
"Walk in and run the company?"
He said nothing.
"I know," I said.
"That was your first mistake."
He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair.
Walked to the door.
Stopped with his hand on the frame.
"Camila had nothing to do with the legal strategy," he said.
"That was all me."
"I'll take that into account," I said.
"Goodnight, Alexander."
The door closed.
I sat for a moment in the quiet office, the city lights spreading out beyond the glass, and then I picked up the phone and called Warren Chu.
May you like
"He's leaving the building," I said.
"We proceed tomorrow as planned."
