Chapter Eleven
~ Connor ~
I followed Julian's wheelchair toward the imposing double doors of the Montgomery Industries boardroom, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
Everything about this place screamed money and power—from the gleaming marble floors to the hushed voices of assistants who scurried out of Julian's path like he was royalty, which, in this corporate kingdom, I supposed he was.
Me? I was the commoner who had somehow married into the throne, and judging by the curious stares boring into my back, everyone knew it.
The doors swung open silently—probably cost more than my entire college tuition—revealing a sleek, high-tech room that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie rather than real life.
A massive oval table dominated the center, surrounded by leather chairs that probably cost more than my first car. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying view of the city, reminding everyone present just how high above the ordinary world they operated.
The quiet murmur of conversation died instantly as Julian wheeled himself in. I followed a step behind, feeling painfully aware of my borrowed designer suit that Michael had insisted I wear. It fit perfectly—because of course Julian had a tailor on speed dial—but it felt like a costume on my body.
Twelve pairs of eyes swiveled from Julian to me, expressions ranging from mild curiosity to outright suspicion.
I recognized a few faces from news articles and the company website I'd frantically studied the night before, but they were all strangers to me, strangers who held Julian's professional future in their manicured hands.
Julian sensed my discomfort, because he turned slightly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "You don't have to be here. Michael can take you back to the penthouse."
Something inside me straightened at that. I'd spent my entire life backing down, making myself smaller to accommodate others. Not anymore. Not with Julian.
"I'm your husband," I replied, matching his quiet tone but infusing it with determination. "I belong by your side."
A flicker of surprise crossed Julian's face before his lips curved into that almost-smile I was coming to treasure. He nodded once, then turned back to the board and smoothly maneuvered his wheelchair to the head of the table.
"Gentlemen," Julian's voice filled the room with easy authority, "my husband, Connor Montgomery."
The name still sent a little shock through me every time I heard it. Connor Montgomery. Not Matthews. Montgomery. Like I belonged to him, with him.
Miles Cranston recovered first, his eyebrows shooting upward. "Husband? When did this happen, Julian?"
I tensed, waiting for Julian to fumble through an explanation of our hasty marriage, but he simply fixed Miles with a shark-like smile that managed to be both charming and vaguely threatening.
"Personal matters aren't on today's agenda, Miles," he replied smoothly, nodding toward the empty seat beside him. "Shall we begin?"
I sat down, trying to mimic the casual confidence of everyone else at the table, though my hands were clammy beneath the polished surface.
Julian began outlining quarterly projections with practiced ease, and I found myself admiring how completely he commanded the room from his wheelchair. His disability seemed irrelevant here; his authority was absolute.
The momentary calm shattered when the boardroom doors swung open again. A woman strode in, and even if I hadn't recognized her from the photos in Julian's study, I would have known who she was by the way Julian's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly beside me.
Elizabeth Harrington was exactly as beautiful as her pictures suggested—tall, blonde, and perfectly put-together in a way that made me acutely aware of my relative scruffiness despite the expensive suit.
She moved with practiced grace, taking the only empty seat left at the table, directly across from me.
"My apologies for being late," she said, her voice melodic and cultured. Her eyes swept around the table, lingering on me with undisguised curiosity. "Traffic was simply dreadful."
I wasn't fooled. Everything about her entrance had been calculated for maximum dramatic effect.
After the briefest acknowledgment of her arrival, Julian returned to his presentation, but I felt Elizabeth's gaze boring into me throughout.
When there was a pause as Julian pulled up some financial data on the screens embedded in the table, she leaned forward, extending her perfectly manicured hand toward me with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"So you're the mysterious new spouse everyone's whispering about," she said, her voice carrying just enough to draw attention without seeming deliberate. "Julian always did have... unconventional tastes."
The insult was wrapped in enough politeness that calling her out would have made me look paranoid, but it was there, clear as day. I felt several board members shift uncomfortably, their eyes darting between us.
I took her hand, surprised by the strength of her grip.
Two could play at this game.
"And I'm grateful for that every day," I responded with a smile just as practiced as hers, placing my other hand protectively on Julian's shoulder. The move was instinctive, but I felt him lean into the touch slightly, a silent acknowledgment of my support.
Elizabeth's smile tightened, but before she could respond, Julian smoothly reclaimed control of the meeting, his voice dropping to that authoritative register that seemed to command immediate attention.
As the meeting progressed, the discussion turned to Harris Pharmaceuticals' aggressive market moves. Financial terms flew over my head, but I understood enough to know that Harris was attempting to leverage Julian's competitors against him.
"Their most recent filings indicate a concerted effort to undermine our position in the medical technology sector," one of the board members was saying, when Elizabeth cleared her throat delicately.
"I hesitate to mention this," she said, in a tone that suggested she didn't hesitate at all, "but I wonder if Julian's judgment might be compromised by recent.
.. personal entanglements." Her eyes flicked meaningfully in my direction, letting everyone know exactly what she meant.
"Given the timing of this sudden marriage and Harris's interest in Montgomery Industries, some concerns have been raised. "
I felt rather than saw Julian's anger—the slight stiffening of his shoulders under my hand, the whitening of his knuckles on his armrests. But when he spoke, his voice was ice-cold and perfectly controlled.
"My personal life has never affected my business acumen, Elizabeth. Unlike some, I don't confuse the two." The subtle reminder of their past relationship hung in the air. "And as for Harris's interest in Montgomery Industries, I believe this explains it rather thoroughly."
He tapped something on the embedded screen in front of him, and suddenly every display in the room filled with documents—financial records, clinical trials, spreadsheets with coded names that I recognized from Delancy's investigation.
"This is what Harris has been hiding," Julian explained, his voice steady as the board members leaned forward in shock.
"Evidence of pharmaceutical fraud, illegal human testing, and cover-ups that would destroy not only his company but land him in prison.
And it's why he's so desperate to silence anyone who might expose him. "
The room erupted in murmurs as the board members digested the implications. I barely heard them. My stomach dropped as a terrible realization hit me—I wasn't just merchandise to Harris. I wasn't just a body to be used and discarded like the others.
I was a witness, a loose end, and Harris wanted me silenced just like all the others who had disappeared into his properties, never to return.
Julian's hand found mine under the table, squeezing once. "You okay?" he murmured, his focus somehow remaining split between the board's reaction and my wellbeing.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The truth was terrifying, but Julian's quiet strength beside me was unwavering. Whatever Harris had planned, we would face it together.
I squeezed Julian's hand back, a silent promise that matched the one he'd made to me. I was a Montgomery now, and we protected our own.
I watched the board members file out of the room with expressions ranging from stunned to determined. Julian had just pulled off what I could only describe as a corporate miracle—turning a potential coup into unanimous support for his strategy against Harris.
His presentation of the evidence had been masterful, calculated for maximum impact without revealing exactly how we'd obtained it.
I felt a ridiculous surge of pride watching him shake hands with the last lingering board member, as if I had anything to do with his business acumen.
But there was something intoxicating about being associated with someone so utterly competent, so completely in control of his domain.
"Motion carries unanimously," Miles had announced just minutes earlier, his voice betraying a hint of impressed surprise. "The board authorizes CEO Montgomery to proceed with the strategy against Harris Pharmaceuticals as outlined, with full discretionary power regarding resource allocation."
Translation: Julian had just been handed a blank check and complete authority to go after Harris. The victory was absolute.
I'd watched Julian's face during the vote—not a flicker of smugness or relief, just that same calm confidence, as if the outcome had never been in doubt.
The only tell was the slight relaxation of his shoulders once the votes were tallied, a tension releasing that I hadn't even realized he was carrying.