Everyone thought they'd misheard.
Myra Gilbert was my wife.
And I'd just arranged for her to kiss an employee for ten seconds?
What kind of insanity was this?
While every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me, Jordan stood trembling. His throat worked through a painful swallow.
Then a smile crawled onto his face — the kind that looked worse than crying.
"Boss, have I done something wrong at work recently?"
"Don't worry, my foot's almost healed."
"The doctor said one more week, tops."
"Then I'll be back to normal."
"I swear I'll work twice as hard."
"I'll never let the company down. I'll never betray your trust."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Jordan's competence was no secret. Technically, he was just Myra's personal assistant, tasked with helping her manage the company's finances. But his connections had landed the firm several major contracts all on their own.
A talent like that deserved recognition. Instead, I'd pulled this stunt at the gala.
Was it a joke? A deliberate warning?
Or was it something else entirely — a petty man who couldn't stand to see someone shine?
While speculation churned through the room, the sharp click-click-click of heels cut through the silence.