Chapter 159
Serena
I turned. A woman in her forties, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, was striding toward me with the kind of efficient irritation that screamed "executive assistant." Her badge read "Aurora Morgan."
"I'm here to see Lance—Mr. Lawson," I corrected quickly.
Aurora's expression didn't soften. "Mr. Lawson isn't in his office. And you can't just barge in here without an appointment. This is a corporate headquarters, not a walk-in clinic."
I straightened, matching her energy. "Then where is he? Take me to him."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Take you—?" She actually laughed. "You need to make an appointment. Mr. Lawson's schedule is managed down to the minute. He doesn't see people on a whim."
"I'm not 'people.'" I pulled out my business card, held it out. "And this isn't a whim. It's business."
Aurora took the card, glanced at it, then did a visible double-take. Her eyes widened slightly. "You're... Serena Vance? The CEO of Vance Heritage?"
"The very same."
Her demeanor shifted—not quite friendly, but less hostile. More calculating. "I read about you. The Arthur Lawson transaction. Very impressive." She handed back the card. "But even so, Mr. Lawson has been... difficult lately. He's not seeing anyone. Not clients, not partners, not even some board members." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Between you and me? He's in a terrible mood. Has been for days. I'd hate for you to waste your time on a meeting that goes nowhere."
My stomach tightened. Not seeing anyone. Terrible mood. Days.
"What's he upset about?" The question came out sharper than I intended.
Aurora blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You said he's in a bad mood. Why?" I tried to keep my voice professional, but my mind was spiraling. Is it about a woman? Did Eleanor set him up with someone? Is he—
"I don't know the details," Aurora said carefully. "Mr. Lawson doesn't exactly confide in me about his personal life. But if you're here to discuss business—" she pulled out her phone, "—I can send him an email inquiry. See if he's willing to—"
"You know what?" I cut her off, injecting ice into my tone. "If you're going to make this complicated, I'll take my business elsewhere. I have five other CEOs waiting for my call. Multi-million dollar deals that won't involve this much bureaucracy." I turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and make sure your boss knows I came by. That I wanted to discuss a potential partnership worth eight figures. But his assistant—" I glanced at her badge, "—Aurora Morgan, decided it wasn't worth his time."
I took exactly two steps before she cracked.
"Wait! Wait, please." Aurora hurried after me, her professional facade slipping into panic. "I apologize. I'll take you to him right now. No email. No appointment necessary."
I turned back, keeping my expression neutral. "That's more like it."
She led me to the elevator, pressed the button for floor 13.
"Thirteen?" I frowned. "I thought all the C-suite offices were on 65."
"They are. But Mr. Lawson has been spending time in the Strategic Development department lately." She wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't know why."
The elevator descended. I watched the numbers tick down, my mind churning.
Strategic Development. The department Lance had created specifically for Wesley. A glorified holding pen for family members who needed titles but couldn't be trusted with real responsibility.
Why the hell would Lance be down there?
The doors opened. The floor was nearly empty—just three or four people scattered across an open office space. A sign on the wall read "Strategic Development" in sleek chrome letters.
Aurora led me through the quiet space to a small office in the corner. The door was closed.
She knocked softly. "Mr. Lawson? Miss Serena Vance from Vance Heritage is here to see you. She says it's urgent business."
Silence. Then movement inside. Footsteps approaching the door.
Aurora turned to me, opening her mouth—probably to tell me to wait, to be patient, to remember my place.
I beat her to it. "You can go. I've got it from here."
"But I should—"
"Thank you, Aurora. You've been very helpful." My smile was steel. "You can leave now."
She hesitated, clearly torn between protocol and self-preservation. Self-preservation won. She nodded once and retreated.
The moment she was out of earshot, I pushed open the door.
"This isn't a request for a meeting," I said, stepping inside.
"This is me checking on the CEO who apparently forgot I existed for five days straight. What the hell, Lance? Are you brooding? Sulking? Having a mid-life crisis in your nephew's fake office?"