Fake Mating To My Ex's Powerful Enemy

Chapter 140: Chapter 140 A Studio of My Own

Christina’s POV

I pulled Zara into the break room and shut the door behind us.

"Spill it. Why is everyone looking at me like I walked in wearing a bomb vest?"

Zara sighed heavily and collapsed into a chair. "Chrissy, darling, you’re married to Alpha Hudson Laurent—the most powerful Alpha in the northern territories and a billionaire CEO of Laurent Global Holdings. Your mate basically owns our bosses’ bosses. Did you really expect employees to relax around the big boss’s wife? Everyone’s terrified you’ll report their tiniest mistakes."

"That’s ridiculous. I have my own work to focus on. I’m not monitoring anyone."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You promise you’re not snitching?"

"I swear on my favorite ring. Honestly, I wouldn’t care if you all took three-hour lunch breaks."

Zara burst out laughing. "You say that, but nobody believes it. They’re all sitting up straight like schoolchildren. Guess I’m the only one with a death wish." She stretched lazily. "Since you’re not going to rat me out, I’m off to ’inspect the supply closet’ for the next forty-five minutes."

After she left, I returned to my desk.

The tension remained palpable.

Silence everywhere.

Chair movements so quiet they seemed rehearsed.

This was beyond absurd.

The suffocating atmosphere made it impossible to breathe normally, let alone work.

At this rate, I’d lose my mind before finishing a single sketch.

So I stood up and marched straight into Savannah’s office without knocking.

She seemed to be expecting me, jumping up from her chair immediately. "Christina! Come in, come in!"

She hurried over with a beaming smile like we were long-lost friends.

She even pulled out a chair for me, something she’d never done before.

I sat down and got straight to the point, "Savannah, we need to talk. I feel like—"

"Christina, darling, I was just about to find you. Since you’re part of management now, you can’t keep sitting with the regular staff in the open area. I’ve arranged a private space for you. It’s being cleaned and will be ready soon. Come see it."

"A private office?"

Maybe this could solve the problem.

If I wasn’t physically among them, perhaps everyone would relax.

But I liked the buzz and chatter of the main floor.

Being tucked away in some quiet corner didn’t exactly thrill me.

Savannah kept urging me along, so I followed her.

The space had once been a storage room, now spotlessly clean with gleaming floors.

But it contained only a desk and what looked like an extremely uncomfortable chair.

"It’s temporary," she quickly explained. "Give me three days, and everything else will be prepared. Please be patient."

I looked around. The room was cramped and claustrophobic, with a narrow window facing nothing but brick, barely letting in natural light.

On cloudy days, I’d need those harsh overhead fluorescents even at noon.

She clearly noticed my expression. "There’s no other available space right now. If you don’t like it, you can have my office and we’ll switch."

I waved off her offer. "That won’t be necessary."

She sighed with relief.

"You see, sitting among the team—it’s too much pressure for them. Everyone’s on edge. You’ve noticed, right?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Actually, that’s exactly what I came to talk to you about."

"A separate office is the solution. You’re management now, you should have management space." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"I’m not management."

"Management-adjacent," she shrugged. "Same difference."

I never intended to become part of Nyx Collective’s leadership.

But Hudson acquired the company.

Now everyone looks at me like I should be strutting around with my nose in the air.

Even with the lights on, the room remained dim.

A few days in here and I’d lose the will to open my eyes, let alone design anything creative.

But I couldn’t just kick Savannah out, so I agreed temporarily.

After she left, I sat down.

The air seemed thin, my shoulders automatically tensing.

My mind focused only on escaping, unable to concentrate on anything else.

I genuinely appreciated Hudson taking over the company. Truly.

But staying here like this, as a brand ambassador with a title I hadn’t earned,felt suffocating.

Since the acquisition, I hadn’t designed a single new piece.

Every idea died before it could fully form, feeling pre-judged a thousand times over.

Just as I was considering faking a paint allergy to escape, my phone vibrated.

Bank notification: another two million dollars deposited.

Right on schedule, monthly.

I’d barely touched the previous transfer.

Well, I bought some clothes and bags, but that was it.

With the ten million Hudson had extracted from his father and that venomous stepmother at my birthday dinner, I still had nearly fifteen million in my account.

I stared at the number.

My fingers moved faster than my thoughts.

A studio. My own. Small but elegant, completely under my control.

Even in Highrise City, where heart transplants might be cheaper than apartments, my current funds could buy a decent place.

With enough left over for other expenses: staff, furniture, utilities, tools, inventory.

I could create a boutique brand—custom commissions, limited collections, high-end but personalized.

If I could convince Octavia to mention my studio on social media, we’d instantly gain credibility.

No investors needed, no obligations to anyone.

This was exactly what I’d always dreamed of.

Now it didn’t just feel possible, it felt inevitable.

I paced restlessly around the tiny space, about to call Hudson but realized he might be in meetings.

So I texted instead.

He replied before I could even sit down.

"Whatever you want to do, do it. You have my complete support. Go for it."

I read the message several times.

My fingers tightened around my phone.

A warm feeling spread slowly through my chest, steady and solid, like sinking into a hot bath during winter.

Akira stirred contentedly in my mind. "Finally taking control of your destiny. About damn time."

"I know," I replied silently. "It feels right."

My mind felt clear, my nerves steady, ready for this new challenge.

I felt myself smiling, genuinely smiling for the first time all day. This wasn’t just about escaping a weird work situation, this was about creating something truly mine.

"You realize this is a big step," Akira cautioned, though I could feel her excitement matching mine. "Your own business, your own brand."

"I’ve been designing for years," I responded. "The only difference is now I’ll answer to myself."