Chapter 8 - The Corner Office
Six months after that fateful night at the steakhouse, a sleek black town car pulled up outside the Lincoln Square apartment building.
I was standing by the front door wearing a comfortable charcoal sweater and jeans, holding Chloe in my arms while she played with a wooden rattle.
Elizabeth walked out of the bedroom carrying a briefcase and a fresh notebook for her morning design class, stopping short when she saw me standing by the door with my shoes on.
“Where are you going?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Marcus called twice this morning. He wants your sign-off on the Q2 restructuring report.”
“Marcus can wait,” I smiled, kissing the top of Chloe’s head. “Get your coat.”
“Julian, I have a design critique at nine—!”
“I hired a nanny for two mornings a week, Elizabeth. Her name is Mrs. Gable, she’s vetted, she’s wonderful, and she’s already waiting downstairs,” I said gently, stepping forward and handing Chloe over to her mother for a brief moment before taking her hand. “Besides, I have a meeting of my own.”
Twenty minutes later, the town car dropped us off in front of the gleaming glass tower of Apex Capital in downtown Chicago.
Elizabeth looked up at the towering skyscraper, her expression uneasy. “Julian, why are we here? I thought you were done with this world.”
“I’m done letting it control me,” I said, leading her through the revolving glass doors into the marble-floored lobby. “Come on.”
We rode the private elevator up to the forty-second floor. When the doors parted, Marcus Thorne was waiting in the hallway, looking stressed and clutching a stack of papers.
“Julian! Thank God,” Marcus rushed over, then stopped abruptly when he saw Elizabeth standing beside me, holding our daughter. Marcus’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of professional respect crossing his features as he nodded to her. “Mrs. Vance. Good morning.”
“Good morning, Marcus,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady and polite.
“Marcus, I’m not coming back as managing partner,” I said before he could pitch his latest crisis. “The board needs to elect a permanent successor, and my equity remains in the blind trust.”
Marcus sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I figured as much. So why are you here?”
I stepped past him, pushing open the heavy mahogany double doors of the executive corner office—the grandest, most prestigious office in the entire building, featuring floor-to-ceiling views of Lake Michigan.
The room had been stripped of my old personal effects. No ego-driven plaques, no framed magazine covers, no cold minimalism.
Instead, a large drafting table had been set up near the panoramic window, surrounded by color swatches, architectural scale models, and blueprints of modern urban housing projects.
Elizabeth stepped into the office, her jaw dropping slightly as she looked around.
“What is this?” she breathed, walking over to the drafting table and running her hand over the smooth wood.
“When Apex acquired the old industrial district downtown last month, the board asked me to consult on the community redevelopment master plan,” I explained, walking up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder. “I told them I would only take the project under one condition: that the lead architectural contract for the public spaces and family community centers went to an independent, rising designer.”
Elizabeth turned her head, her gray-blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Julian... did you—?”
“Your portfolio speaks for itself, Elizabeth,” I whispered. “You just needed someone to finally clear the path so you could shine.”
Marcus cleared his throat discreetly from the doorway, holding out a sleek black pen and a leather-bound contract.
May you like
“The commercial partnership agreement is ready for your signature, Ms. Vance,” Marcus said with a faint, approving smile. “Assuming, of course, your business partner here approves.”
Elizabeth looked from the contract to my face, a slow, radiant smile breaking through the lingering shadows of the past.
