"A setup?"
I don't answer, and Rachel exhales. "Let's assume for a moment she's not a con artist orchestrating a long game to infiltrate your company."
"Generous."
"Let's assume she's exactly what she looks like—a smart, capable woman who got caught in the same disaster you did." She tilts her head. "In which case, staying married might be your best move."
"I don't need relationship advice."
“No, you need damage control. And right now, she's your best option for it." Rachel gathers her things, slipping her sunglasses back on. "Stay married. A few months. Long enough for the acquisition to close, for Francis to fade from the headlines, and for the board to stop circling."
"And in the meantime?"
"You give them a story they like better. The Ice Prince who finally melted." Her lips curve. "The ruthless CEO who fell in love in the most chaotic way possible and decided—against all logic—to keep her."
"That's absurd."
"It's effective."
She heads for the door, then pauses.
"And Victor? If you're going to keep her… don't underestimate her."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning women who don't chase attention are usually the ones you should be paying the closest attention to."
Then she's gone.
And I'm left standing in my office, staring at the door, Rachel's words echoing in my head.
Stay married.
It's insane.
It's also… not entirely wrong.
I move back to my desk, pulling up the board meeting agenda. Patricia's emergency evaluation. The Francis fallout. Q4 projections.
All of it hinges on one thing…
Stability. The appearance of control.
And right now, annulling this marriage makes me look impulsive. Reckless. Like a man who makes decisions without thinking through the consequences.
Staying married—at least temporarily—makes me look committed. Decisive. Like someone who owns his mistakes instead of running from them.
And right then and there, I make the decision that feels like swallowing razor blades.
Two months.
That's what I'll give this marriage. Two months to let the story die down, to close the acquisition, to get the board off my back.
Two months, and then we end it quietly, amicably, with both of us walking away unscathed.
I'm still turning it over in my mind, refining my talking points for the board meeting, when I lose track of time entirely.
The next thing I know, Gina's voice comes through the intercom.
