<h4>Chapter 114: Chapter 115 New Boss</h4>


    Every head turned.


    Two men emerged from the front entrance, followed by a handful of staff members.


    I recognised Rexford Caldwell from his file photo.


    The big boss of Nyx Collective, the man who had never bothered to show his face in the office until now.


    But it wasn’t Rexford who had everyone staring.


    That was Ashton, walking a step ahead of Rexford.


    His face was inscrutable as usual, a neutral mask he wore for business, and his hands were stuck in his trouser pockets.


    Yet something told me he was not happy.


    He reminded me of Bernini’s ‘David’, right before he slung the fatal stone at Goliath.


    Rexford cleared his throat and pped his hands. ‘Hello, everyone! May I have your attention for a minute. Some of you know who I am. Rexford Caldwell, majority shareholder of Nyx Collective, this lovely studio you’re working in.’


    He paused, as if expecting apuse.


    Nothing happened.


    He cleared his throat again. ‘Well, anyway, I need to introduce you to the new owner of Nyx Collective. Mr Ashton Laurent.’


    Hands pped. A few people at first, then more joined.


    Rexford stepped aside, yielding the floor to Ashton.


    ‘Mr Caldwell, do I look like an old man to you?’


    ‘Huh?’


    I could see the question mark forming above Rexford’s head, and everybody else’s.


    ‘Um, of course not, Mr Laurent. You’re younger than me.’ He added in a hurry, ‘But no less aplished.’ He chuckled. ‘If you’re considered old, what does that make me, a corpse? Haha.’


    The joke fell t.


    Ashton said, ‘I don’t think I’m old either. But someone did just call me an “old man”.’


    Rexford looked utterly baffled. ‘Mr Laurent, what do you mean?’


    Ashton’s gaze slid over to me, a small, knowing smile ying at his lips. ‘Someone just said my wife married an old man. Not just old, but also broke. And a nobody. And picked up from the street.’


    Ah. So he’d heard me and Violet.


    How long had he been standing just outside the door, eavesdropping?


    Rexford’s eyes followed Ashton’s to me. ‘This... this is Mrs Laurent?’


    Ashton stepped forward, took my hand, gently plucked me up from my chair—that was when I realised, btedly, I was the only one who’d still remained seated.


    The only person whose jaw dropped lower than Rexford’s was Violet’s.


    ‘Mr Caldwell.’ Ashton linked arms with me.


    ‘Yes, Mr Laurent?’


    ‘I’m beginning to think that taking over the shares from you is a mistake.’


    ‘W-what? Of course not! I mean, it’s a solid investment. It’s made reasonable returns for me over the years. Nothing staggering, of course, but the profit’s more than—’


    ‘You didn’t tell me thepany had such a toxic culture. With colleagues openly ndering each other over personal affairs during work hours, can it really deliver the kind of performance you promised me?’


    Rexford caught on quick. ‘It’s just one employee, and one employee doesn’t represent Nyx Collective.’ He jabbed a finger at Violet. ‘Oi, you there. Apologise to Mr Laurent and Mrs Laurent. Now.’


    Violet finally stopped resembling a waxwork figure of herself.


    Her lips made a valiant effort, but her words were mute.


    Savannah, who’de out of her office a minute ago, stepped in. ‘Mr Laurent, Mr Caldwell, apologies for the unfortunate incident. I’ll speak to Violetter and make sure she’s reprimanded properly. Let’s all move to the conference room, shall we?’


    Rexford jumped in before Ashton could reply. ‘Yes, yes, Mr Laurent, let’s go have a seat. I’ll show you the quarterly—’


    Ashton didn’t move.


    ‘I heard something about apetition slot earlier,’ he said tly. ‘Someone paid for it. How much? I’ll pay triple. That should get my wife a spot.’


    I tugged at his elbow. He didn’t react.


    Rexford wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and shot Savannah a look. ‘What bloody slot?’


    ‘It’s for The Aureate Awards,’ Savannah exined. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding. No one needs to pay. I’ll review the internal selection processter.’


    ‘Like hell you will,’ Rexford snapped. ‘Give it to her.’ He was about to point a finger at me, but shrank back at thest moment. ‘Give it to Mrs Laurent.’


    ‘Yes, of course.’


    Rexford turned to Ashton. ‘Does that work for you, Mr Laurent?’


    ‘I’m not the one you should be asking.’


    ‘Right, right, of course. Mrs Laurent?’ Rexford turned to me, his oily smile reminding me of the fries Ashton bought the other day, pretending it was lunch made by Carmen.


    I wondered if he finished them.


    Probably not.


    ‘Savannah and I will discuss itter,’ I said.


    Rexford nodded quickly. ‘Of course, of course. Shall we head to the conference room then?’


    Ashton held up his hand, joined to mine.


    The tiny diamonds in the rings glittered.


    ‘The rings are custom-made. And yet someone here, who calls herself a jewellery designer, thought it came from a cereal box. If she genuinely can’t tell the difference between bespoke craftsmanship and stic junk, I’d be deeply concerned for anyone foolish enough to hire her.’


    Violet’s face burned crimson. She dropped her eyes to the floor. If there had been a hole in it, she’d have crawled right into it.


    ‘My wife isn’t in the habit of exining herself. She’s patient, far more than I am, but don’t mistake that for weakness. If anyone here has an issue with her, or thinks they can speak about her disrespectfully, fix your attitude fast. If not, save us both the trouble and hand in your resignation. I don’t tolerate disrespect, especially not towards her.’


    Ashton’s gaze swept over the room like a storm rolling in.


    Everyone in the room could feel the weight of it, including me.


    Rexford muttered under his breath, ‘How the hell are you running this ce, Savannah? Get rid of that woman immediately.’


    Savannah kept quiet. She knew better than to argue with him now.


    Ashton was staring at Violet again.


    ‘One more thing.’


    I almost felt bad for Violet.