Chapter 8

The soft buzz of the air conditioner permeated the room, punctuated occasionally by the sound of Ronald's champagne glass lightly clinking against the desk. The atmosphere was infused with the luxurious aroma of leather and polished mahogany, blended with the faint citrus hints of his cologne. Seated behind his large oak desk, Ronald's demeanor was as distant and impenetrable as marble.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted his focus. Ethan Brooks entered, his careful footsteps resonating on the polished floor. Subtle yet alert, his sharp eyes mirrored his attentiveness.

“Good morning, boss. Good morning, ma’am,” Ethan said, nodding respectfully to Catherine, who reclined in a nearby armchair, her perfectly manicured nails drumming methodically against the armrest.

Ronald placed his glass down with a slight clink. “Morning, Ethan. What’s on the schedule?”

Ethan cleared his throat and glanced at his tablet. “You have a nine o’clock meeting with Dr. Clifford, sir. He should be arriving shortly. After that, you are scheduled to meet with Dr. Raphael and the top investors.”

“Good.” Ronald's voice was a composed yet authoritative rumble. “Prepare the necessary documents.”

“Yes, sir,” Ethan replied, his gaze flickering momentarily to Catherine, whose lips pressed into a straight line.

Before he could exit, Catherine’s sharp voice pierced the stillness. “We weren’t done, Ronald.”

Ronald’s jaw tightened slightly, even though his expression remained composed. He turned to her, his tone softening just a fraction. “We can revisit this later, Catherine. Calm down. Stress isn't beneficial for you or the baby.”

Her expression soured at his patronizing tone. Without another word, she rose, the silk of her dress rustling as she strode out, her heels striking the floor like an eager drumbeat.

Ronald watched her exit, a brief shadow of unease crossing his features. While Catherine's fiery nature was familiar, her relentless determination lately unsettled him in ways he couldn’t articulate.

“Sir, the files are ready,” Ethan broke the silence.

“Let’s go,” Ronald replied, adjusting his tie as he stood.

The Wellington conference room projected influence and prestige. Crystal chandeliers bathed the immaculate table in a golden glow, and the walls were adorned with honors and photographs celebrating the company’s esteemed history. Ronald’s entrance stilled the muted conversations, his presence palpable in the atmosphere.

He approached the head of the table, every step deliberate. His finely tailored suit highlighted his physique, a testament to his wealth and meticulous nature. As he sat down, his penetrating gaze swept across the room, asserting his authority.

A moment of silence lingered heavily before Ronald initiated the discussion, his deep voice slicing through the tension. “Gentlemen, let's commence. Today’s agenda revolves around the appointment of a new president.”

The proclamation reverberated like a clap of thunder. The investors fidgeted, their conversations rising to a subtle murmur. Ronald leaned back, his inscrutable expression scanning the room. His silence was purposeful, a calculated strategy to command respect and control.

“I oppose this,” one investor eventually articulated, skepticism woven into his tone. “The timing seems... hasty.”

“I agree,” another added. “We must proceed cautiously.”

Dr. Raphael, the always-composed mediator, raised a hand to quell the growing discontent. “Let’s maintain focus on the bigger picture,” he urged, his tone steady. “The presidency is vital for the company’s future. We require strong, decisive leadership, and this appointment is long overdue.”

Debate ignited with overlapping voices, some advocating for caution while others pushed for advancement. Throughout, Ronald remained silent, his steely gaze fixed on each speaker as if evaluating their value.

Ultimately, one of the investors expressed a strong and assured viewpoint. “I support Dr. Raphael. The suggested candidate demonstrates potential, and this choice could result in significant advantages.”

A wave of consensus flowed through the gathering. Ronald leaned forward, hands together. “Thank you, gentlemen. We will move forward carefully. This meeting is officially over.”

As the investors began to depart, Ronald greeted each one with a firm handshake and a composed demeanor. When he reached Dr. Raphael, he paused. “I value your support. Let’s continue this discussion in my office.”

Dr. Raphael nodded, deep in thought. “Of course, Mr. Wellington.”

Back in Ronald’s office, the atmosphere was charged with intensity as they confronted one another.

“Please, have a seat,” Ronald urged, motioning to the chair across from him.

Dr. Raphael settled down, appearing both attentive and at ease. “What’s concerning you?”

Ronald leaned back, fingers steepled, choosing his words with precision. “This company represents my father's legacy. His will specified that I share control with my half-brother. It’s time to honor that directive.”

Dr. Raphael’s brow creased slightly, but he acknowledged with a nod. “It’s a considerable decision, yet it aligns with the company’s overarching vision. Your father always stressed the importance of unity and shared success.”

A slight smile appeared on Ronald’s lips. “Exactly. This goes beyond business—it's about honoring his wishes and securing the future of the company.”

Dr. Raphael leaned forward, his voice contemplative. “I have faith in your judgment, Mr. Wellington. You have continually demonstrated your commitment to the company's well-being.”

“Thank you,” Ronald replied, standing to extend his hand in camaraderie. “Your backing means a lot.”

As Dr. Raphael exited, Ethan entered, his demeanor surprisingly grave.

“Sir, there’s someone here to see you,” he said quietly.

Ronald’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who is it?”

“It’s Catherine.”

The mention of her name sent a sudden tension through him. Their previous confrontation lingered in his thoughts. He nodded curtly and stood.

Catherine stood in the corridor, her posture stiff, her face twisted with barely suppressed anger. Upon seeing Ronald, her eyes flared with reproach.

“Ronald,” she said sharply. “We need to discuss this. Immediately.”

He gestured for her to follow, guiding her into his office and shutting the door. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension.

“Is it true?” she demanded, disbelief tinging her voice. “You’re handing the presidency to your half-brother?”

Ronald leaned against his desk, his expression steady. “Yes.”

Her bitter laugh rang out, a harsh noise that shattered the tense stillness. “Incredible. I’m your wife, Ronald. I’m expecting your child, and you choose him over me?”

“This isn’t a personal issue,” he replied, his tone heavy with cold certainty. “It’s about the business.”

“Don’t you dare sideline me like that. I have a stake in this too!” she retorted, her fists clenched in frustration.

Ronald’s gaze intensified, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve made my decision, Catherine. It’s set in stone.”

A thick silence ensued. Catherine’s eyes glistened with unshed tears of anger, yet she held them back. Without saying another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Ronald in the wake of her fury.

At the Wellington mansion, Catherine's heels echoed sharply against the marble floor. She tossed her handbag on the sofa, each movement reflecting her rage.

Beatrice, coming down the grand staircase, observed her daughter’s troubled state with keen eyes. “What occurred?” she asked, her calm voice masking her curiosity.

Catherine whirled around, her expression tumultuous. “Ronald is giving the presidency to his half-brother.”

Beatrice’s expression darkened, her lips tightening into an inflexible line. “That position should have rightfully belonged to you.”

“Exactly,” Catherine retorted. “But Ronald refuses to acknowledge any reason.”

Beatrice’s eyes gleamed ominously. “Then we will make him see reason. If he won’t give you what is rightfully yours, we will seize it.”

Catherine grinned, determination shining in her eyes. “This isn’t finished, Mother. Not by a long shot.”

Beatrice smiled, her tone low and sinister. “No, my dear. This is merely the beginning.”