Chapter 11 #11

Chapter 11 #11
Chapter 11

~ Dante ~

I was lost in the pleasure of having Shailyn exactly where I wanted her, pressed against my desk, finally submitting to me the way a wife should when the sharp knock on the door shattered the moment like glass.

I froze, my hands still gripping her waist, my breath coming in harsh pants. Who the fuck dared to interrupt me right now? The person on the other side of that door better be praying to God they had a good reason for this interruption, because I was this close to ripping someone's head off.

"Mr. Belmar?" My assistant's voice filtered through the door, timid and apologetic. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but the board meeting starts in five minutes. They're waiting for you in the conference room."

For a moment, I considered ignoring him. Considered telling him to fuck off and reschedule the goddamn meeting because I was in the middle of reminding my wife who she belonged to.

I pulled back from Shailyn and stalked to the door, yanking it open to find my assistant standing there looking like he might piss himself. Good. He should be terrified. I drilled holes into his head with my glare, watching him shrink under the weight of my fury.

But then reality crashed back in. The meeting. The board. My brother.

Dwayne.

I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might crack. As much as I wanted to stay here and fuck the daylight out of Shailyn until all she could think about, all she could breathe was me, the meeting was more important right now. I had to show that motherfucking brother of mine that just because he'd waltzed back into town after five years didn't mean he could take the position I'd built. The empire I'd created. The company I'd claimed as mine.

I turned back to Shailyn, who was still pressed against my desk, looking thoroughly shaken. Perfect. Let her think about what just happened. Let her remember who her husband was, who provided for her, who owned her.

"Go home," I told her coldly. "And think very carefully about your choices."

I left her there and adjusted my suit, smoothing down the fabric and fixing my tie until I looked like the picture of professional composure. No one would ever know what had just happened in this office. No one would see anything but Dante Belmar — CEO, visionary, the man who'd revolutionized SentientIQ with H-GPT.

I walked to the boardroom with class and confidence. After all, I was Dante fucking Belmar. I owned these hallways. This company was mine in everything but the paperwork.

But the moment I stepped into the boardroom, my mood soured completely.

That bastard was sitting in my chair.

"What the hell?" I snapped, my voice cutting through the polite pre-meeting chatter. Every head in the room turned toward me. "Why are you sitting there? That's my fucking seat."

Dwayne looked up at me with those infuriatingly calm eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "I didn't see anyone's name on it."

Motherfucker.

He was always doing this — acting like he was the polite one, the good son, the reasonable brother who never lost his temper. Playing the part of the prodigal returned, the golden boy who could do no wrong. He thought being calm and collected made him superior. He didn't realize it took more than that to run a company like SentientIQ. It took ruthlessness. Ambition. The willingness to do whatever it took to win.

Things Dwayne clearly lacked, since he'd run off to Asia like a coward five years ago instead of fighting for what was his.

"Dante." My father's voice was sharp with warning. He sat beside Dwayne…of course he sat beside Dwayne and shot me a look that could have melted steel. "Sit down. You're embarrassing yourself in front of the board."

I scoffed loudly, letting everyone in the room hear my disdain. My father didn't care about me or my feelings. He only cared about his precious company. A company that would be mine soon enough, no matter how much he tried to give it to his favorite son.

I dropped into a seat across from them, crossing my arms and fixing Dwayne with a glare that promised violence.

The meeting began, and immediately it devolved into what it always did these days—Dwayne and me butting heads over every single decision. He presented his precious X-Intel model, talking about its revolutionary neural architecture and advanced learning capabilities like he was some kind of messiah come to save us all. I countered with H-GPT's proven track record, its market dominance, the billions of dollars it had already generated.

Back and forth we went, two bulls locked in combat, neither willing to give an inch.

The board members watched us like spectators at a gladiator match, some looking entertained, others increasingly uncomfortable with the obvious hostility between us.

Then Tony Gerald, one of my father's oldest friends and the loudest mouth on the entire board — decided to open his stupid face and speak.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, holding up his hands like he was some kind of peacemaker. "I think I have a solution here. Why don't we give both Dwayne and Dante a challenge? 

Something new to develop. We'll assign monitors to track their progress, and whichever project shows the most promise will determine the direction of the company moving forward."

What a motherfucker.

Who told him to open his loud mouth and suggest something so idiotic? Now I had to actually think, had to come up with some groundbreaking new development to outshine whatever 

Dwayne pulled out of his ass. This was exactly what I didn't need right now.

I was about to object — to point out how ridiculous and inefficient this idea was when my father cleared his throat.

I looked at him, certain he was going to reject Tony’s proposal. Surely even he could see how this would only create more division, more conflict. But as I met his eyes, I realized with sinking certainty that he wasn't going to save me.

He wanted power more than he wanted peace between his sons.

"One month," my father announced, his voice carrying the weight of final judgment. "You both have one month to develop and present a new AI model. The board will evaluate both projects and make a decision about the company's future leadership based on the results."

Fucking hell.

One month. Thirty days to create something revolutionary enough to secure my position and crush my brother's chances. How the fuck was I supposed to do that?

But then, like a light bulb flicking on in a dark room, the answer came to me.

My dearest Shailyn.

Of course. My brilliant, timid, pathetic little wife who'd given me H-GPT five years ago. The woman who had her father's code notebooks, who understood AI architecture better than anyone I'd ever met, even if she was too stupid to realize her own worth. She was the key. 

She'd saved me once before, and she'd do it again.

All I had to do was convince her. Persuade her. Remind her of her wifely duties.

And if persuasion didn't work, well... I had other methods.

I was just opening my mouth to suggest we adjourn the meeting so I could get started on my project when the boardroom door suddenly burst open.

Hannah… that bubbly new hire who'd attached herself to Shailyn like a lost puppy practically fell into the room, her face flushed and her chest heaving like she'd run a marathon. She was breathing so heavily I genuinely thought she might pass out right there on the expensive carpet.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" she gasped, words tumbling over each other in a panicked rush. "But it's urgent, I tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen, and then she just…"

"Slow down," Dwayne said firmly, his voice cutting through her rambling. There was that calm authority again, the tone that made people listen and obey. It made my blood boil. "Take a breath and speak normally. What happened?"

Hannah gulped air, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself. When she finally spoke again, her voice was clearer but no less panicked.

"It's Shailyn," she said, and my entire body went rigid. "She collapsed. She's on the floor…"

The rest of her words were drowned out by the sudden rushing in my ears, the sound of my own heartbeat pounding like a war drum.

Shailyn.

Before I could fully process what was happening, Dwayne was already on his feet, already moving toward the door with a speed that seemed impossible for someone so controlled.

And I realized, with a cold fury that settled deep in my bones, that my brother had just shown everyone in that room, including my father, exactly how much he cared about my wife.