Chapter 3
The lobby of Apex Tower was a masterpiece of modern architecture,
sleek marble,
brushed steel,
and absolute silence.
Julian walked through the revolving doors,
feeling entirely out of place in his wrinkled suit.
Two massive security guards immediately stepped in his path,
their faces blank and unyielding.
"I need to see Jacqueline Sinclair,"
Julian said,
trying to sound authoritative.
"Do you have an appointment,"
the first guard asked,
not moving an inch.
"I am Julian Vance,
she knows me,"
he insisted,
his voice rising slightly.
The receptionist behind the desk picked up a phone,
spoke softly for a moment,
and then looked at Julian.
"Miss Sinclair is currently in a meeting,
but she said you may wait in the lobby,"
the receptionist stated,
pointing to a hard,
uncomfortable bench near the door.
Julian gritted his teeth,
but he walked over and sat down.
He waited for one hour,
then two,
then three.
Businessmen in sharp suits walked past him,
giving him curious,
pitying looks.
He was the fallen prince of Washington,
begging for scraps at the feet of the woman he had discarded.
Finally,
at four in the afternoon,
David Miller stepped off the elevator.
"Mr. Vance,"
David said coldly,
"Miss Sinclair will see you now."
Julian stood up,
his legs stiff,
and followed David into the private elevator.
They rode up to the twenty-sixth floor in complete silence.
When the doors opened,
Julian stepped into a massive office that overlooked the entire city.
Jacqueline was standing by the window,
her arms crossed,
staring down at the Vance Corporation building.
She wore a sharp black suit,
her hair pulled back into a severe bun,
looking like a general surveying a conquered territory.
"Jackie,"
Julian breathed,
taking a step toward her.
She did not turn around immediately,
she simply let the silence stretch,
making him feel small.
"I told you not to call me that,"
she said softly,
finally turning to face him.
Her eyes were like ice,
beautiful,
but deadly.
"Jacqueline,
please,
you have to stop this,"
Julian pleaded,
closing the distance between them.
"My father is going to lose the company,
thousands of people will lose their jobs."
Jacqueline walked over to her desk,
picking up a silver pen and twirling it in her fingers.
"The employees will be fine,
I plan to retain the lower-level staff when I absorb the assets,"
she replied calmly.
"It is only the executive board that will be gutted,
starting with your family."
Julian stared at her,
unable to reconcile this ruthless corporate raider with the woman who used to bake him cookies.
"Why are you doing this,"
he asked,
his voice breaking.
"Because of Khloe,
because of one hug at the airport."
Jacqueline slammed the pen onto the desk,
the sudden noise making Julian jump.
"It was never about Khloe,"
she said,
her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.
"Khloe is a symptom,
Julian,
she is not the disease."
She walked around the desk,
stopping just inches from him.
"The disease is your disrespect,
the disease is your family treating me like a stepping stone."
Julian swallowed hard,
the truth of her words cutting deep.
"I love you,"
he whispered,
a desperate,
pathetic lie.
Jacqueline smiled,
a terrifying,
beautiful smile.
"No, Julian,
you love what I did for you,
May you like
and now,
you are going to learn how to live without it."
