Chapter 45

Alejandro’s POV

I don’t take calls during board meetings.

That’s an unspoken rule everyone around me understands without needing to be told twice. When I sit at that table, nothing comes before business. Not distractions. Not interruptions. Not anything that doesn’t directly affect the company.

So when my phone buzzed against the polished wood in front of me, the sharp vibration cutting through my father’s voice mid-sentence, every head turned.

I didn’t reach for it immediately. I let it buzz again, my gaze still fixed on the projections displayed across the screen at the far end of the room.

The name flashing across the screen caught my attention anyway.

It was Marcus.

He wouldn’t call me like this unless it mattered. So I picked it up.

A few of the board members shifted in their seats, already irritated. My father didn’t bother hiding his disapproval as usual, his expression tightening as I brought the phone to my ear.

“This better be important Marcus,” I said, my tone low.

“Boss,” Marcus started, and that was all it took for me to know something was wrong. There was urgency in his voice. “Mira’s at Maison Élitaire.”

My grip on the phone tightened slightly.

“And?” I asked.

“There’s a situation,” he continued quickly. “They accused her and Zara of stealing. Something about your card. The manager's already called the police.”

For a second, everything in the room faded.

“What?” I said.

“They don’t believe the card is hers,” Marcus added. “It’s getting ugly.”

I was already on my feet.

The chair scraped against the floor loudly, cutting through whatever my father had been saying, and every eye in the room snapped to me again.

“Meeting’s over,” I said simply.

“It is not over,” my father snapped immediately, his voice carrying authority. “Sit down, Alejandro.”

I didn’t even look at him.

“Reschedule it, or continue without me,” I replied, already grabbing my jacket.

“You don’t walk out on a board meeting,” he said, his tone dropping.

“I apologize but this is important.”

And then I walked out.

The drive felt too slow.

Every second stretched, my mind running ahead of me, piecing together the situation in ways that made something dark settle in my chest.

Mira was being accused, probably embarrassed and alone in a room full of people who thought they could talk down to her.

My jaw tightened at the thought.

They had no idea what they had just done.

By the time the car came to a stop in front of the boutique, I was already stepping out before the driver could open the door, my focus locked on the entrance.

The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.

My gaze found her immediately.

She was standing near the counter, shoulders squared, chin slightly lifted, holding herself together in that quiet way she did when she refused to let anyone see her break.

Zara stood beside her, visibly on edge, eyes darting between the employees and the door like she was ready to argue with anyone who breathed wrong.

And then Mira looked at me.

Relief flickered across her face quickly.

I closed the distance between us without hesitation, my hand coming up to cup her face as I leaned down and kissed her.

When I pulled back, my eyes scanned her quickly. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though I could still see the tension lingering in her expression. “I’m fine.”

I studied her for a second longer, making sure of it, before my attention shifted.

The room had gone silent.

The manager. The employees. The girl standing off to the side. All of them watching, their earlier confidence replaced with something else entirely. They looked shocked.

I turned fully, my posture straightening as I stepped away from Mira just enough to face them properly.

“Who called the police?” I said, my voice calm.

No one answered immediately.

The manager swallowed, stepping forward cautiously. “Mr. Montenegro, we—”

“I asked a question.”

The edge in my tone was enough to make her falter.

“I did,” she finally admitted.

I nodded once, like I expected nothing less.

“And on what basis?” I continued. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you accused my girlfriend of theft.”

The woman from earlier, the one I was informed that had started all of this, looked like she had seen a ghost.

“We had reason to believe—” the manager began.

“You had an assumption,” I corrected smoothly. “And you acted on it.”

“You saw two women you decided didn’t belong here,” I continued, my gaze moving between them, “and instead of doing your job, you chose to humiliate them.”

Zara let out a quiet, satisfied breath beside Mira.

I stepped closer to the counter, my fingers brushing over the black card still sitting there before I picked it up, turning it once between my fingers.

“You questioned whether this was hers,” I said lightly.

The manager said nothing.

I glanced back at Mira briefly, then returned my attention to them. “Let me make something very clear. Everything that is mine…” I paused, just slightly. “…is hers.”

The silence deepened.

“And that includes access to my accounts.”

The girl who had been arguing over the dress shifted uncomfortably, her earlier confidence completely gone now.

“Now, let’s address the rest of this situation.” I said, my tone stern. I reached into my jacket, pulling out my phone, already dialing.

It didn’t take long.

“Get me the ownership details for Maison Élitaire,” I said the moment the line connected. “Yes. All of it.”

“I want it done today.” I ended the call before they could ask questions.

The manager looked like she might faint.

“You can’t be serious,” she said weakly.

I raised a brow. “I’m sure you know who I am.”

The process didn’t take long when you knew the right people.

Papers were drawn up. Calls were made. Numbers discussed that would make most people hesitate.

By the time everything was finalized, the atmosphere in the store had completely shifted.

And when the documents were placed in my hands, I turned back to Mira. She looked at me, confusion flickering across her face.

“Alejandro what did you do?”

I stepped closer, holding out the papers toward her.

“Happy early birthday,” I said simply.

She stared at the documents, then back at me, clearly trying to process what she was seeing.

“I bought it,” I added, my voice quieter now, meant only for her.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“For you.”