Chapter 3 - The Corporate Sabotage
Winning in family court was a victory of the heart, but in the icy, unforgiving world of global technology, heart didn't show up on a balance sheet.
By Monday morning of the following week, the battleground had shifted from the limestone halls of the Ashford mansion to the seventy-story glass monolith of Ashford Systems headquarters in downtown Dallas.
Catherine stood in her corner office on the top floor, looking out over the city skyline.
Her executive armor was back on—a tailored charcoal-grey pantsuit, diamond stud earrings, her dark hair pulled into a flawless, severe bun. But beneath the armor, something fundamental had shifted. On her phone screen, resting on her glass desk, was a photo Marcus had texted her ten minutes ago: Lily and Maya eating cereal while wearing ridiculous paper crowns Marcus had folded for them out of the morning newspaper.
A soft knock at her office door broke her train of thought.
Claire, her executive assistant, walked in, looking pale.
"Mrs. Ashford... Gerald Vance is in the boardroom. He brought three major institutional shareholders with him. Unscheduled."
Catherine locked her phone and picked up her leather portfolio. "So it begins."
When Catherine entered the grand boardroom, the atmosphere was hostile.
Gerald Vance—a silver-haired, heavy-set man who had held a seat on the board for fifteen years—sat at the head of the table. Flanking him were representatives from the two largest investment funds holding Ashford Systems stock.
And sitting right next to Gerald, wearing a smug, victorious smile, was Richard Ashford.
"Catherine," Gerald said, not bothering to stand. "Thank you for joining us. We were just discussing the upcoming Tokyo merger."
"This is an unauthorized meeting, Gerald," Catherine said calmly, taking her seat at the opposite end of the table. "Board protocol requires forty-eight hours' notice for shareholder caucuses."
"Protocol is for stable companies, Catherine," Richard interrupted, leaning forward on his elbows. "Not for companies whose CEO is currently suffering a personal breakdown."
Catherine didn't flinch. "I am in complete control of my company, Richard."
Gerald slid a tabloid newspaper across the polished conference table.
The front cover featured a blurry telephoto photograph taken outside the Ashford estate two days ago. It showed Marcus loading boxes into the back of his clean, modest work truck, while Catherine stood nearby in a sweater, laughing with him while holding Lily on her hip.
The headline was vile:
TECH QUEEN'S SECRET HOUSEMATE: HAS BILLIONAIRE CATHERINE ASHFORD LOST HER MIND TO A HANDYMAN?
"This hit the local papers this morning," Gerald said, his voice dripping with condescending pity. "The market doesn't like scandal, Catherine. Our stock dropped three percent at the opening bell. Investors are asking why our CEO is shacking up with unvetted domestic help instead of finalizing the forty-billion-dollar merger with Tanaka Holdings."
"First of all," Catherine said, her voice dropping into a register of cold, terrifying precision that made the two institutional investors sit up straighter, "Mr. Marcus Rivera is a respected professional and the Head of Household at my estate. Second, my private life has zero impact on our operational margins. Third, if you think a manufactured smear campaign orchestrated by my disgraced ex-husband is going to force me to surrender my chair, you have severely underestimated me, Gerald."
Richard laughed. "It's not just a smear campaign, Catherine. Tomorrow night is the annual Tech & Heritage Gala. Mr. Tanaka himself will be attending. Gerald and I have gathered enough proxy votes to call an emergency board vote on Friday to remove you as CEO, citing brand damage and instability."
"You don't have the votes," Catherine countered.
"We have thirty-eight percent," Richard declared, his eyes flashing with malicious triumph. "And when Tanaka sees that you're a PR nightmare who can't even manage her own household without hiring a street cleaner to babysit her kids, he will back Gerald's faction. You're done, Catherine."
Catherine stood up, leaning her hands on the table, projecting an aura of absolute power that filled the massive room.
"I built this company from a garage while pregnant with Sophia," Catherine said, her voice cutting through the air like a diamond blade. "You bought your shares with family money you didn't earn, Richard. Tomorrow night, at the Gala, I will finalize the agreement with Mr. Tanaka in person. And on Friday, I will use my majority block to strip you and Gerald of your board seats permanently. Good day, gentlemen."
She turned and walked out of the boardroom, her heels clicking authoritatively against the marble floor.
Maids, nannies, board members, investors—they had all tried to break her. She would not let them win now.
When Catherine returned home at 6:30 p.m., the front gates opened smoothly.
She walked into the house, exhausted, her mind racing with financial figures, proxy numbers, and legal strategies.
In the kitchen, the aroma of garlic, herbs, and slow-roasted chicken filled the air.
Marcus was at the stove, stirring a pot of rice. Maya was at the counter, helping Emma and Olivia set the table. Sophia was quietly reading a book in the corner, while Charlotte and Lily were drawing on large sheets of butcher paper taped to the floor.
It was a scene of such absolute peace that Catherine stopped in the doorway, feeling the icy knot of corporate stress in her chest begin to thaw.
Marcus turned, taking in her tense posture and the shadow of exhaustion beneath her eyes.
"Bad day at the office?" Marcus asked gently.
Catherine let out a long breath, dropping her designer handbag onto a chair. "They put a photograph of you and me on the front page of a tabloid newspaper."
The kitchen went quiet.
Marcus set his wooden spoon down. "I saw it. My sister called me from Albuquerque this morning."
Catherine stepped closer, her expression pained. "Marcus, I am so sorry. They are using you to get to me. They called you... vile things. They are trying to make you look like a threat to my reputation."
Marcus looked at her. There was no anger in his face. No humiliation. Only a deep, calm understanding.
"Mrs. Ashford," Marcus said softly, "when my wife, Elena, was sick, I worked three jobs. I cleaned toilets at night, worked construction during the day, and took care of Maya in between. People called me a lot of things back then. They looked down on me because I had dirt under my fingernails."
He walked over to her, stopping close enough that she could feel the steady, comforting heat radiating from him.
"Words from men who wear expensive suits don't bother me," Marcus continued, his brown eyes locking onto hers with unwavering strength. "The only thing that matters to me is whether the work I do here helps you and these girls. Does it?"
Catherine looked up at him—at his strong jaw, his honest eyes, the grey at his temples that spoke of hard-won wisdom and survival.
"You saved my family, Marcus," Catherine whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You gave me my daughters back."
"Then let them print whatever headlines they want," Marcus said with a small, defiant grin. "They can't break what's real."
Sophia walked over, sliding her hand into Catherine’s. "Mom? Are you going to that big party tomorrow night? The one where you wear the fancy dress?"
Catherine looked down at her daughter. "Yes, sweetie. It's an important dinner."
"Is the mean man going to be there?" Charlotte asked, looking up from her drawing. "Our father?"
"Yes," Catherine admitted softly. "He will."
Emma looked at Marcus. "Can Marcus go with you? So he can protect you like he protected us from the evaluator lady?"
Catherine froze.
The Tech & Heritage Gala was the most exclusive, high-society event of the season. Bringing Marcus—a man the tabloids were currently mocking as a janitor—would be seen as a direct provocation to the board. It was risky. It was unconventional. It was completely insane by corporate standards.
Marcus looked at Catherine, a faint, questioning arch to his eyebrow. "I do own one good suit, Mrs. Ashford. Bought it for my cousin's wedding three years ago."
Catherine stared at him. Then, a sudden, bold, utterly liberating laugh broke from her lips.
May you like
For ten years, she had played by high-society rules. She had tried to be the perfect corporate CEO, the perfect socialite, the perfect product of an elite world that had judged her at every turn.
"Mr. Rivera," Catherine said, her eyes flashing with a brilliant, dangerous spark of defiance, "I would be honored if you would escort me to the Gala tomorrow night."
