Page 2 — The Boss Who Didn’t Smile Back
Arthur Sterling entered with two security people and three senior executives who moved like a unit. He didn’t need to announce himself—people reacted to him the way animals react to an approaching storm.
Mark practically sprang forward to greet him.
“Sir! Welcome! What an honor—”
Sterling barely acknowledged Mark. His eyes scanned the room once—fast, precise—then stopped on me.
I was holding a tray of champagne flutes. Head slightly down. “Staff” posture.
But his expression changed instantly.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He stopped walking.
The executives behind him stopped too, as if tethered.
Mark’s smile faltered. “Sir? Everything okay?”
Sterling took one step closer toward me.
Then he did something that made the entire ballroom go silent.
He bowed.
Not a polite nod. A real bow. Controlled. Respectful.
“Good evening,” he said clearly, “Madam Chairwoman.”
You could hear ice clink in a glass across the room.
Mark laughed nervously. “Sir—ha—this is my wife. You must be mistaken. She’s just… my wife.”
Sterling’s eyes didn’t move from mine.
“No,” he replied, voice calm, clinical. “You work for her.”
The laughter died like a light switch flipped off.
Jessica’s hand went to her throat, touching my necklace, suddenly aware it wasn’t jewelry anymore.
Mark’s face drained of color so fast it was almost impressive.
“Elena?” he whispered, like saying my name might undo reality.
I set the tray down carefully. One glass didn’t wobble. My hands were steady.
“Hello, Arthur,” I said softly.
Sterling straightened. “Madam, I didn’t realize you would be here tonight.”
“Neither did I,” I replied, and looked directly at my husband. “But I’m glad I came.”
Keep reading—because that’s when Mark tried to laugh it off… and Sterling decided to explain, in front of everyone, exactly who Mark really was.
