Chapter 2 - HE DIDN’T SAY “WIFE”
Shiaoza’s face changed so quickly that only someone who had lived beside him for ten years would have noticed.
Shock first.
Then calculation.
Then fear.
“Vivian.”
Jang blinked.
My name clearly meant nothing to her.
Shiaoza walked toward me.
“What are you doing here?”
Not:
Why is my secretary insulting my wife?
Not:
Why are employees being forced onto stairs?
Not even:
Good morning.
What are you doing here?
I almost smiled.
“My first day.”
He swallowed.
“I thought your appointment started Monday.”
“It is Monday.”
Several employees exchanged glances.
Jang looked between us.
“President Shiao, you know her?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation lasted perhaps two seconds.
It felt like ten years.
Then he said:
“Yes.”
Just yes.
Jang relaxed.
Of course.
He had not said wife.
She moved even closer to him.
“I told you she was causing trouble.”
I looked at Shiaoza.
He avoided my eyes.
Then something happened behind us.
The private boardroom doors opened again.
This time, Chairman Daniel Hsu, seventy-one and still capable of terrifying an entire quarterly meeting with one raised eyebrow, stepped into the hallway.
Three directors followed.
He saw me.
His expression brightened.
“Vivian.”
Every employee nearby straightened.
Chairman Hsu walked directly toward me and extended his hand.
“Welcome home.”
Nobody breathed.
I shook it.
“Thank you, Chairman.”
He smiled.
“Should I still call you Chairman? Technically, after nine o’clock, you outrank me operationally.”
Someone gasped.
Jang went pale.
Shiaoza closed his eyes.
Chairman Hsu looked around.
Apparently only now noticing the crowd.
“Has the staff introduction already happened?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
He turned toward the employees.
“Everyone, this is Vivian Chen, effective today, group chief executive officer of Meridian International.”
Silence.
Complete.
Beautiful.
The woman who had advised me to use the service elevator covered her mouth.
Someone farther down the hall whispered:
“CEO?”
Jang’s face emptied.
I looked at her.
She stared at me as though I had transformed physically.
Same plain clothes.
Same shoes.
Same woman.
Only now a title had been attached.
Interesting.
Chairman Hsu continued:
“Vivian has spent the last seven years leading our overseas operations, most recently as executive vice president for strategic expansion. The board voted unanimously to appoint her as CEO.”
Then he looked toward Shiaoza.
“Of course President Shiao knows that better than anyone.”
Everyone turned.
My husband managed a weak smile.
“Yes.”
That one word told me more than Jang’s insults had.
He knew.
He had known for six weeks.
And apparently never thought his beloved secretary needed to know the name of the incoming CEO.
Or perhaps he had reasons not to tell her.
Jang finally spoke.
“CEO Chen, I—I didn’t realize—”
“I know.”
Her lips trembled.
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought.”
She looked down.
Then I asked:
“Ms. Jang, is it written company policy that nonexecutive employees cannot use this elevator?”
She froze.
“No.”
The woman beside me looked up sharply.
I continued:
“Is it written policy that employees above the sixty-third floor must use the stairs?”
“No.”
“Then whose policy is it?”
Silence.
Jang looked toward Shiaoza.
There.
My husband saw it too.
His jaw tightened.
“Tong Tong?”
I looked at him.
Tong Tong.
Again.
He corrected himself too late.
“Secretary Jang.”
She swallowed.
“I was only maintaining executive security.”
Chairman Hsu frowned.
“Security?”
I asked:
“Were you authorized by corporate security?”
“No.”
“Facilities?”
“No.”
“Human resources?”
“No.”
“Then we’ll review how this practice started.”
Jang looked relieved.
She probably expected that to be the worst thing happening.
Then I pointed gently toward her wrist.
“Beautiful watch.”
Her face changed.
Shiaoza stopped moving.
Chairman Hsu glanced at it.
Jang instinctively covered it with her opposite hand.
“Thank you.”
“Where did you buy it?”
My husband spoke immediately.
“Vivian.”
I looked at him.
“Not here.”
Interesting.
I smiled.
“I agree.”
Then I addressed the hallway.
“Everyone who was waiting for the elevator should use it.”
Nobody moved.
So I stepped aside.
“Please.”
They entered slowly.
Staff.
Analysts.
Assistants.
A maintenance supervisor.
The woman who had been told she was incompetent.
Chairman Hsu watched.
Then asked:
“Why is everyone acting as if they’re crossing an international border?”
I said:
“That is one of the things I intend to find out.”
Jang looked at Shiaoza.
He did not rescue her.
Not publicly.
That disappointed her.
But when we reached his office twenty minutes later, I discovered something worse than public cowardice.
The door closed.
I turned toward him.
“Who is she to you?”
Shiaoza rubbed his forehead.
“Vivian, this is not how I wanted your first day to begin.”
“That was not my question.”
He exhaled.
“She’s my secretary.”
“Then why is she wearing your mother’s watch?”
Silence.
I waited.
He looked at the floor.
Then finally said:
“Because I gave it to her.”
There are sentences that hurt.
And sentences that reorganize your entire marriage.
May you like
That one did both.
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