Chapter 3 - One Deal, One Chance
At 8:47 Monday morning, Victoria entered the headquarters of Herrera Continental Motors carrying two binders, a laptop, and the remains of her pride.
The lobby rose six stories above her.
Glass elevators moved silently behind a wall of steel.
Employees crossed the polished floor with the focused speed of people who understood their time mattered.
Victoria approached the reception desk.
“I have a nine o’clock meeting with Mr. Herrera.”
The receptionist smiled.
“Name?”
“Victoria Montgomery.”
The smile remained professional, but recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes.
The gala story had spread.
Of course it had.
“Please take a seat.”
“I’m thirteen minutes early.”
“Mr. Herrera requested that you wait.”
Victoria stared at her.
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
She sat.
At nine o’clock, no one came.
At nine fifteen, she checked her phone.
At nine thirty, she walked back to the desk.
“Is he delayed?”
The receptionist typed something.
“Mr. Herrera is in his office.”
Victoria blinked.
“Then why am I still here?”
“He asked that you wait.”
Anger rose in her chest.
She forced it down.
At ten o’clock, Alejandro emerged from a private elevator.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried no briefcase.
Victoria stood.
“You made me wait an hour.”
He glanced at his watch.
“Seventy-three minutes.”
“You did that deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To see how you treat people when you are frustrated.”
Victoria looked at the receptionist.
The woman avoided her gaze.
“You had her watching me.”
“She did not need to watch. You were visible.”
Victoria lowered her voice.
“This is childish.”
“So was threatening to fire someone for asking you to coffee.”
“That again?”
“That was three days ago.”
Alejandro turned toward the elevator.
“Are you coming?”
She grabbed her binders and followed.
His office occupied the top floor.
It was surprisingly restrained.
No gold.
No paintings of himself.
No enormous desk meant to intimidate visitors.
Only clean lines, wide windows, and a view of the city.
Alejandro sat across from her at a round conference table.
“Show me the numbers.”
Victoria opened the first binder.
“Montgomery Design Group currently has seventeen active commercial contracts—”
“Revenue.”
“Twenty-eight million last year.”
“Profit.”
She hesitated.
“Negative four point two.”
“Debt.”
“Eleven million.”
“Cash reserves.”
“Six weeks.”
Alejandro leaned back.
“You do not have six weeks.”
“We do if our largest receivable is paid.”
“It won’t be.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“How do you know?”
“The client filed for restructuring this morning.”
Victoria stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
He slid a printed document across the table.
She read it twice.
Her stomach tightened.
“That payment was supposed to cover payroll.”
“I know.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
Alejandro watched her.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“An eight-million-dollar investment.”
“In exchange for?”
“Twenty percent equity.”
He almost smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“You valued a failing company at forty million dollars.”
“We have brand recognition.”
“You have debt.”
“We have skilled employees.”
“Who are updating their résumés.”
Victoria shut the binder.
“Are you interested or not?”
“I am interested in the company. I am not interested in your valuation.”
“What would you offer?”
“Eight million for fifty-one percent.”
She stood so fast the chair rolled backward.
“That’s a takeover.”
“It’s survival.”
“My father did not build that company so I could hand it to you.”
“Your father built a design firm. You turned it into a stage set.”
Her face hardened.
“You don’t get to speak about him.”
“Then stop using him to avoid responsibility.”
Victoria grabbed her binder.
“We’re done.”
Alejandro did not move.
“Your payroll is Friday.”
She stopped.
“You have enough cash for eighty percent.”
She slowly turned.
“How do you know that?”
“Your chief financial officer called me.”
Victoria’s face went pale.
“Martin spoke to you?”
“He is trying to save the employees.”
“By going behind my back?”
“By doing the job you should have done six months ago.”
She picked up her phone.
Alejandro’s voice sharpened.
“Do not fire him.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t control my company.”
“Not yet.”
The words hung between them.
Victoria lowered the phone.
“What are your terms?”
“Fifty-one percent. You remain chief executive for six months.”
“And after that?”
“If the company meets the recovery targets, you keep your position and earn back ten percent.”
“If we don’t?”
“You step down.”
“That is not an investment. It is an execution.”
“No. It is accountability.”
She paced toward the windows.
“You planned this before I arrived.”
“I reviewed the company before inviting you.”
“You invited me because of the company?”
“I invited you because your father once helped mine.”
Victoria turned.
“What?”
Alejandro opened a drawer and removed an old photograph.
Two younger men stood beside a damaged factory.
One was Alejandro’s father.
The other was Victoria’s.
“My father’s first manufacturing plant nearly closed after a fire,” Alejandro said. “Insurance delayed payment. Banks refused credit.”
Victoria picked up the photograph.
“My father never mentioned this.”
“He loaned my father money.”
“How much?”
“Enough to reopen.”
“Why?”
“Because they were friends.”
Victoria studied the image.
“And your father repaid him?”
“Every dollar.”
“Then why didn’t you help us sooner?”
“Because your father asked mine for one thing.”
“What?”
“That no one rescue you from the consequences of your own choices.”
Victoria looked up sharply.
“He said that?”
“When he became ill, he knew the company would pass to you.”
Her voice dropped.
“He thought I would fail.”
“He thought you would need to decide who you wanted to become.”
Victoria placed the photograph on the table.
“You expect me to believe my father arranged this lesson from the grave?”
“No.”
Alejandro leaned forward.
“I expect you to believe he knew you.”
She sank into the chair.
For the first time since entering the building, the anger left her face.
“What happens to the employees if I refuse?”
“Some will find work. Some won’t.”
“And if I accept?”
“No layoffs for ninety days. We renegotiate the debt. We bring back the designers who resigned, if they agree.”
“They won’t work for me.”
“Then give them a reason.”
Victoria looked at the contract he placed before her.
“You already drafted it.”
“Yes.”
“You were certain I would come.”
“No.”
“You were certain I would need you.”
“Yes.”
She read the first page.
Then the second.
At the signature line, she stopped.
“I want one change.”
“What?”
“No personal publicity.”
Alejandro’s eyebrow lifted.
“You suddenly dislike publicity?”
“I don’t want people saying I saved the company by becoming your latest charity case.”
“Agreed.”
“And I want the employees told the truth.”
“That you mismanaged the business?”
“Yes.”
Alejandro studied her.
“That will damage you.”
“It should.”
He took a pen from his pocket.
“Anything else?”
Victoria looked at him.
“If I meet every target, you return the ten percent exactly as written.”
“I will.”
“No games.”
“No disguises.”
“No public lessons.”
His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“Agreed.”
She signed.
Alejandro added his signature beneath hers.
Victoria closed the contract.
“Now what?”
“Now you go back to your office.”
“And?”
“You apologize.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
She stared at him.
“You enjoy impossible requests.”
“I enjoy useful ones.”
That afternoon, Victoria stood before one hundred and twelve employees in the Montgomery Design Group studio.
Whispers died as she approached the microphone.
Martin, her financial officer, stood near the front.
Two security guards waited by the doors because Victoria had almost fired him by phone that morning.
She looked at him first.
“Martin, I owe you an apology.”
His eyes widened.
Victoria continued before she lost her nerve.
“You acted to protect this company when I failed to do so.”
The room remained silent.
She faced the staff.
“I spent money trying to make us appear successful instead of making us successful.”
A designer in the back folded his arms.
“So what happens now?”
“We have a new investor.”
“Who?”
“Alejandro Herrera.”
The room erupted.
Victoria raised her hand.
“He now owns fifty-one percent.”
Someone muttered, “So we’ve been sold.”
“No,” Victoria said. “I have been placed under supervision. You have been given a chance.”
Martin stepped forward.
“Are there layoffs?”
“Not for ninety days.”
“And after?”
“That depends on whether we meet the recovery plan.”
A woman near the front spoke.
“Why should we trust you?”
Victoria looked directly at her.
“You shouldn’t.”
The answer silenced the room.
“You should watch what I do next.”
After the meeting, Martin entered her office.
“I expected you to fire me.”
“I considered it.”
“I know.”
She handed him the contract.
“Read every page.”
He sat.
“You signed away control.”
“I lost control months ago. The signature only made it official.”
Martin looked at her for a long moment.
“Your father would have hated this.”
“I know.”
“He also would have respected it.”
Victoria looked down at the photograph Alejandro had allowed her to copy.
“I’m not sure.”
Her phone rang.
Alejandro.
She answered.
“What now?”
“Your former creative director is downstairs.”
Victoria stood.
“Elena?”
“Yes.”
“She hates me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you invite her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you need her.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“You could have warned me.”
“I just did.”
The line disconnected.
A moment later, the office door opened.
Elena Price entered wearing a black coat and an expression colder than winter.
Victoria remained behind the desk.
Elena looked around.
“Still using the Italian furniture while employees worry about payroll?”
Victoria glanced at the desk, the leather chairs, the expensive lamps.
“You were right.”
Elena paused.
“That isn’t the greeting I expected.”
“I was wrong. You were right.”
“About which part?”
“All of it.”
Elena folded her arms.
“And now you want me back.”
“Yes.”
“Why would I return?”
“Because this company needs you.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It is.”
Elena turned toward the door.
Victoria spoke quickly.
“I will report to you on all creative decisions.”
Elena stopped.
“You’re the chief executive.”
“For now.”
“And you’re willing to give me authority?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I confused control with leadership.”
Elena slowly faced her.
“Did Herrera write that line for you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She walked back to the desk.
“I want final approval on design hires.”
“Done.”
“I want the marketing budget cut in half.”
“Done.”
“I want you nowhere near a camera for six months.”
Victoria hesitated.
Elena lifted an eyebrow.
“Done.”
Elena held out her hand.
“Then I’ll stay for thirty days.”
Victoria shook it.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
When Elena left, Victoria’s phone buzzed with a message from Alejandro.
One apology. One good decision. Do not confuse progress with victory.
Victoria typed back.
Do not confuse investment with ownership of my soul.
His reply came immediately.
I bought the company. Your soul appears overpriced.
Against her will, Victoria smiled.
Then another message arrived.
May you like
Board review tomorrow. Seven a.m. Don’t be late.
Her smile disappeared.
