From abandoned girlfriend to tycoon’s lover (Copy)

💼 Chapter 9 — The Crown Fits Me Now

The elevator doors opened to the top floor of CHEZ MARÍA Haute Couture.

My name — carved in gold letters — gleamed on the wall behind reception. A name I had almost lost. A name I now owned.

Literally.

I stepped out with Leonardo right behind me, his steps silent but assured, as if he walked through every space like he belonged there.

Rosa was waiting by the entrance.

“Everyone’s inside,” she whispered, “and… they’re a bit on edge.”

Good.

They should be.

I walked into the boardroom.

Nine men in suits.

Two women.

Some of them looked relieved when they saw me. Others… not so much.

Antonio’s chair at the head of the table was empty.

Now it was mine.

I walked toward it slowly, pulled it out, and sat down with a calm, deliberate elegance.

Leonardo stood behind me like a silent bodyguard. He didn’t take a seat. Just watched.

I looked around the room.

“Let’s begin.”

One of the executives — the finance director, a man in his fifties — cleared his throat.

“Miss Navarro, we weren’t sure if you’d be attending today, given… recent events.”

I smiled sweetly. “You mean the wedding where I got publicly humiliated by my fiancé and my dying half-sister in my dress, my jewelry, and my venue?”

The man froze.

Another board member chuckled nervously. “You’ve handled it with… admirable composure.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Now let’s talk numbers.”

Rosa handed me the quarterly report.

I scanned it quickly.

“Profits are up. Brand engagement is through the roof. But,” I paused, “marketing has been lazy.”

They shifted uncomfortably.

“Three viral pieces this quarter — all tied to my name. One by design. Two by scandal.”

I looked at them all, then tapped the report.

“If I’m going to be a trending topic, it’s going to be because of brilliance, not betrayal.”

Leonardo let out a quiet “hmm” behind me. No one else dared speak.

“I want the new campaign centered around a rebirth theme. Phoenix imagery. Fire. Gold. Grit. Empowerment. We’re not just selling clothes. We’re selling survival with style.”

The PR head scribbled furiously. “Got it. I’ll draft proposals by Friday.”

“Wednesday.”

He blinked. “Yes. Of course. Wednesday.”

I nodded, satisfied.

Then one of the quieter board members spoke.

“Will Mr. Martínez be… returning to the company?”

All eyes flicked to me.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs slowly.

“Mr. Martínez is focused on his wife’s health. We wish them well. But for now, and for the foreseeable future, I’m the sole head of this company.”

No one objected.

They wouldn’t dare.

Leonardo finally spoke.

“I can confirm Ms. Navarro now holds 100% of the shares originally belonging to Mr. Martínez.”

The legal advisor blinked. “Wait… all of them?”

Leonardo smiled slightly. “That’s correct.”

Gasps.

Murmurs.

The entire room shifted.

I didn’t move.

I just said, “Shall we continue?”

And just like that, we did.

The meeting ended two hours later.

Everyone filed out, one by one, their posture a little straighter, their glances a little more careful than before.

Once we were alone, I stood and turned to Leonardo.

“You didn’t have to say that in front of them.”

“You needed the kill shot,” he replied.

I narrowed my eyes. “And what do you get out of this?”

He stepped closer, his voice smooth but sincere.

“I told you. I invest in rare assets. You, María, are a high-yield stock.”

“You sound like you’re buying a diamond, not backing a woman.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Maybe I see both.”

For a moment, we just stood there.

The tension between us had shifted.

Not romantic — not yet.

But something was building.

Power recognized power.

Later that night, I sat alone in my office, watching the sunset through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

My phone buzzed.

Sofía.

Girl, you’re everywhere. Instagram, Twitter, blogs — they’re calling you the Ice Queen of Altamira. Some are even rooting for you to launch your own revenge clothing line.

I smirked.

Not a bad idea.

Another message buzzed in.

This time from an unknown number.

You’re brilliant. I underestimated you. But if you touch Isabel again, I won’t forgive you.

Antonio.

I blocked the number without replying.

Then tossed the phone aside.

The era of María Navarro, the love-struck girl, was over.

The woman who now sat in this leather chair?

She answered to no man.