CHAPTER 2 — THE COMPANY BEHIND HIS EMPIRE
CHAPTER 2 — THE COMPANY BEHIND HIS EMPIRE
At 6:07 a.m., Damian Cross stopped believing in coincidences.
He had spent the previous seven minutes staring at the document his father had left behind.
Seven minutes.
No blinking.
No breathing properly.
Just reading the same paragraph over and over.
The Cross family had never owned Cross Global Holdings.
Not technically.
Not legally.
Not even indirectly.
They had operated it.
They had profited from it.
They had lived like kings because of it.
But ownership—
real ownership—
belonged to another company.
A company Damian had heard of hundreds of times.
A company he had never bothered to investigate.
Montrose Global.
He laughed once.
It came out empty.
“No.”
He turned the page.
The signature was unmistakable.
His father's.
Richard Cross.
And beneath it was the signature of Alexander Montrose.
But the final signature belonged to someone else.
A young woman.
Isabella Montrose.
Damian's wife.
His humiliation from the night before suddenly felt irrelevant.
The slap.
The necklace accusation.
Vanessa.
The mansion.
None of it mattered.
Because he had just discovered that the woman he had ordered to kneel had been standing above him the entire time.
His phone rang.
“Mr. Cross?”
“Who is this?”
“Thomas Reed. General Counsel for Cross Global Holdings.”
“I know who you are.”
“Then you should know that the emergency governance notice is valid.”
Damian gripped the phone.
“Reverse it.”
“I can't.”
“You work for me.”
Silence.
Then Thomas spoke carefully.
“I worked for the company.”
Damian's jaw tightened.
“What's the difference?”
“The difference is that the company no longer recognizes you as its controlling executive.”
“Who does it recognize?”
Thomas didn't answer.
Damian already knew.
“Isabella.”
“Yes.”
The word landed like a punch.
“Put me through to the board.”
“They're already in session.”
“Without me?”
“Yes.”
“I'm the CEO.”
Thomas sighed.
“You were.”
Damian slammed the phone onto the desk.
The glass of whiskey beside him shattered.
Across town, I sat at the head of the Montrose boardroom.
Twenty-three directors.
Nine attorneys.
Three trustees.
Four financial advisers.
And my father.
Nobody spoke.
A giant screen displayed the organizational structure of Cross Global Holdings.
At the top sat one name:
MONTROSE GLOBAL MASTER HOLDINGS.
Below it:
Cross Global Holdings.
Below that were dozens of subsidiaries.
Luxury hotels.
Residential developments.
Private aviation.
Restaurants.
Financial services.
Real estate.
Entertainment.
Technology investments.
Every company Damian had spent four years calling his.
I looked around the room.
“Any questions?”
One director raised his hand.
“Just one.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you wait four years?”
The room became quiet.
I looked at my father.
Then back at the director.
“Because my marriage was supposed to be temporary.”
Someone shifted in their chair.
“What changed?”
I touched the bruise on my cheek.
“This.”
Nobody asked again.
At 6:21 a.m., Damian made the mistake I had been waiting for.
He called the Cross Group headquarters.
“Put me through to accounting.”
The receptionist hesitated.
“Sir, your access has been suspended.”
“I don't care.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then connect me.”
“I'm unable to do that.”
Damian stared at the phone.
“I'll fire you.”
The receptionist remained silent.
Then said:
“You no longer have authority to terminate employees.”
The call ended.
Damian stood motionless.
His own company had just spoken to him like a stranger.
He turned toward Vanessa.
She had been sitting on the sofa, watching everything.
“Say something.”
Vanessa swallowed.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me this is temporary.”
She looked at him.
“I think you should call Isabella.”
His expression darkened.
“I am not begging her.”
“You might want to reconsider.”
“Why?”
Vanessa pointed toward his phone.
“Because your phone isn't the only thing that's stopped working.”
Damian looked down.
His banking application displayed:
ACCOUNT ACCESS RESTRICTED.
He opened another.
Same message.
Another.
Same.
He tried his corporate card.
Declined.
His private card.
Declined.
His hotel membership.
Suspended.
His airline account.
Restricted.
His security access to the mansion.
UNDER REVIEW.
Damian stared at the screen.
Vanessa whispered:
“How much do you actually own?”
He looked at her.
“What?”
She stood.
“You said everything belonged to you.”
“It does.”
“Then why can't you access anything?”
Damian had no answer.
Because for the first time—
he didn't know.
At 7:00 a.m., the Cross family emergency board meeting began.
Damian forced his way into the building.
Security stopped him at the lobby.
“I have a board meeting.”
The guard checked his tablet.
“No authorization.”
“I'm Damian Cross.”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
“I can't.”
Damian stepped closer.
“You're guarding my building.”
The guard looked at him.
“No, sir.”
He pointed toward the ceiling.
“I'm guarding Montrose Global property.”
Damian's face changed.
“Who told you that?”
“Corporate security.”
“Who owns this building?”
The guard hesitated.
Then answered:
“Montrose Global.”
Damian looked upward.
The marble lobby suddenly seemed different.
The walls.
The chandeliers.
The artwork.
The elevators.
The security system.
Everything.
He had spent years entering this building as though it belonged to him.
He had never noticed the small plaque near the reception desk.
He walked toward it.
Brushed dust from the engraved metal.
PROPERTY OF MONTROSE GLOBAL MASTER HOLDINGS.
Damian stared.
His phone rang.
His mother's name appeared.
He answered.
“What?”
Evelyn's voice was shaking.
“Come home.”
“Why?”
“Your father left something else.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
“Because the lawyers are here.”
Damian froze.
“What lawyers?”
“Montrose lawyers.”
He returned to the mansion.
The front gates opened.
But the security guards didn't salute.
They didn't even look at him.
Inside, three attorneys were waiting.
All dressed in dark suits.
One stepped forward.
“Mr. Cross.”
“Who are you?”
“Representatives of Montrose Global.”
Damian laughed.
“This is my house.”
The attorney opened a folder.
“No.”
He placed a document on the table.
“This property is held by Montrose Residential Trust.”
Damian stared.
“That's impossible.”
The attorney turned the page.
“The trust's controlling beneficiary is Isabella Montrose.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Damian looked at her.
“You knew.”
She didn't answer.
“You knew all of this.”
“I knew there was an arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
Evelyn whispered:
“Your father borrowed the Montrose family's capital.”
Damian frowned.
“Borrowed?”
“Twenty-eight years ago.”
“How much?”
She looked at the lawyer.
He answered.
“Four hundred million dollars.”
Damian laughed.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
The attorney opened another file.
“The original amount was four hundred million.”
“And now?”
The attorney looked directly at him.
“After twenty-eight years of compounded obligations, the total value of the assets controlled under the agreement exceeds thirty-two billion dollars.”
Damian went silent.
Thirty-two billion.
His entire life had been built around a fortune he thought belonged to his family.
It had been borrowed.
And the lender had been Isabella's family.
“Why did my father agree to this?”
The attorney looked at Evelyn.
She finally spoke.
“Because the Cross family was bankrupt.”
Damian stared.
“What?”
“Your grandfather lost everything.”
“The hotels?”
Gone.
“The land?”
Mortgaged.
“The company?”
In receivership.
“The family name?”
Worthless.
“Your father went to Alexander Montrose.”
Damian slowly sat down.
“What did he give him?”
Evelyn's voice became quiet.
“A promise.”
“What promise?”
“That one day, the Montrose heir would marry into the Cross family.”
Damian's head lifted.
“No.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Yes.”
He stared at her.
“You knew Isabella was the heir.”
“Yes.”
“You knew before I met her.”
“Yes.”
“You encouraged me to marry her.”
Evelyn began crying.
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
Damian stood.
“You used me.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I was trying to save the family.”
“You sold my marriage.”
“I thought you would eventually love her.”
Damian laughed bitterly.
“And if I didn't?”
Evelyn looked away.
“You weren't supposed to hurt her.”
He stepped backward.
“So that's what this was.”
A business arrangement.
A rescue.
A merger.
A calculated alliance.
His entire marriage had been part of a contract.
But there was something he still couldn't understand.
“If Isabella knew…”
“She didn't.”
Damian froze.
“What?”
“She was told the marriage was real.”
“Then why did she marry me?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Because she loved you.”
That sentence hurt more than anything else.
Damian remembered the woman he had ignored.
The woman who had stayed awake while he came home drunk.
The woman who had defended him before investors.
The woman who had fixed his company's disasters.
The woman who had never demanded praise.
The woman he had slapped.
He suddenly remembered something.
Four years earlier.
On their wedding night, Isabella had asked him:
“Do you trust me?”
He had laughed.
“Of course.”
She had smiled.
“I'll never betray you.”
He had never understood the irony.
She had meant it.
At 8:12 a.m., the boardroom screen changed.
Every television inside Cross Global Holdings changed at the same time.
An image of Isabella appeared.
I was sitting at the Montrose boardroom table.
My father beside me.
Twenty-three directors behind us.
The message was simple.
TRANSITION OF CONTROL
My voice began playing.
“Effective immediately, Cross Global Holdings will operate under Montrose Global's controlling authority.”
Damian stared at the screen.
I continued.
“This transition is not an acquisition.”
He frowned.
“It is the restoration of ownership.”
The boardroom behind him became silent.
I looked directly into the camera.
“Four years ago, I entered the Cross family as a wife.”
I paused.
“I am leaving it as the legal controlling beneficiary of the empire they believed they owned.”
Damian's hands clenched.
The screen continued.
“All existing employment contracts will be honored.”
“All legitimate debts will be paid.”
“All employees will be protected.”
“But executive authority will be reassigned.”
A list appeared.
DAMIAN CROSS — REMOVED.
EVELYN CROSS — REMOVED FROM GOVERNANCE.
CROSS FAMILY VOTING RIGHTS — SUSPENDED.
Damian turned away.
He couldn't watch anymore.
But my final words followed him.
“You called this your empire.”
The screen showed me looking directly into the camera.
“It was never yours.”
That afternoon, Damian did something I had expected.
He went looking for Vanessa.
Not because he loved her.
Because he needed someone to blame.
He found her packing.
“What are you doing?”
She didn't turn around.
“Leaving.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere you aren't.”
Damian laughed.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
She zipped her suitcase.
“I'm terrified.”
“Of me?”
“Of becoming you.”
He stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Vanessa finally faced him.
“You told me you owned everything.”
“I thought I did.”
“You told me Isabella was nobody.”
“I was wrong.”
“You told me you were going to divorce her and make me the new Mrs. Cross.”
Damian said nothing.
Vanessa smiled bitterly.
“I believed you.”
“You still have me.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Vanessa—”
“I don't have a husband.”
She looked around the mansion.
“I don't even have a boyfriend.”
She picked up her suitcase.
“Apparently, I was dating an employee.”
Then she walked past him.
Damian grabbed her wrist.
“Don't leave me.”
Vanessa stared at his hand.
Then at him.
“That's exactly what Isabella said when you stopped loving her.”
She pulled away.
“And you laughed.”
The front door closed behind her.
Damian was alone.
At Montrose Global, I received a message.
DAMIAN HAS REQUESTED A PRIVATE MEETING.
I stared at it.
My father looked over.
“Will you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to hear what he thinks he still has.”
The meeting took place at midnight.
A private conference room.
No lawyers.
No board members.
Just Damian and me.
He entered looking older.
Not physically.
Something inside him had changed.
He sat across from me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said:
“You loved me.”
I didn't answer.
“Didn't you?”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you were Isabella Montrose.”
“I was always Isabella Montrose.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You could have stopped all of this.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have saved my company.”
I leaned back.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it wasn't your company.”
He closed his eyes.
“You really hate me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“I don't hate you.”
“Then what do you feel?”
I thought for a moment.
“Nothing.”
That hurt him.
I could see it.
He swallowed.
“What happens now?”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“You return everything that belongs to Montrose.”
“And if I don't?”
I smiled faintly.
“You already tried that.”
He looked confused.
“Where?”
I leaned forward.
“The moment you signed the marriage agreement.”
His face went pale.
“What agreement?”
“The one your father signed.”
Damian stared at me.
“You have it?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
I opened the black folder.
Placed one page in front of him.
He read.
His eyes moved slowly.
Then stopped.
At the bottom was a clause he had never seen.
His father's signature was beneath it.
Damian looked at me.
“What is this?”
I answered quietly.
“The part your father never told you.”
He looked down again.
The clause was short.
Brutal.
And final.
If the Cross heir ever attempts to remove the designated Montrose heir from the family estate, all Cross-controlled assets shall immediately revert to Montrose ownership without compensation.
Damian stared.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me throw you out.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I stood.
“Because you finally triggered the clause yourself.”
His face went white.
The slap.
The accusation.
The order to kneel.
The public humiliation.
None of it had merely ended our marriage.
He had personally activated the legal mechanism that transferred control of the empire.
Damian whispered:
“So this was all planned.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I walked toward the door.
“The plan was to leave you peacefully.”
I stopped.
“You chose war.”
Then I left him alone.
Outside the conference room, my father was waiting.
He looked at me.
“Did he understand?”
“Not yet.”
“What will happen when he does?”
I looked through the glass wall at the city.
“Then he'll start searching for the truth.”
“And what will he find?”
I smiled.
“The truth about the money.”
My father nodded.
“And after that?”
I looked at the black folder in my hand.
“Then he'll find out why his father was so desperate to keep me in the dark.”
My father became serious.
“Isabella.”
I turned.
“Don't open the second file unless you're ready.”
I frowned.
“What second file?”
He stared at me.
Then handed me another sealed envelope.
I looked at the handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
Richard Cross.
Damian's father.
On the front were five words:
ISABELLA MUST NEVER KNOW THIS.
I looked up.
My father said quietly:
“Your marriage wasn't the only thing your father arranged.”
I stared at the envelope.
“What else did he arrange?”
My father didn't answer.
And for the first time since Phase One began—
I felt afraid.
Because whatever was inside that envelope had been hidden from me for twenty-eight years.
And if Richard Cross had gone to the trouble of writing my name on it—
it wasn't a secret about Damian.
May you like
It was a secret about me.
TO BE CONTINUED...
