The offices of the Croft Foundation were bright, airy, and silent. William stared at the proposal for a sustainable housing project in Kenya. It was noble work. It was important work.
It was boring.
He spun a pen between his fingers. A year ago, he was in the “War Room,” fighting off hostile takeovers, liquidating assets to save his wife, and going toe-to-toe with Sebastian Cross. Now, he was the “First Husband,” the ethical face of a ruthless empire.
He checked the time. Victoria was currently in a closed-door meeting with the acquisition team, planning the assault on Vane-Tech. He wasn’t invited.
A knock at the door broke his brooding. His assistant, a cheerful young woman, peeked in. “Mr. Croft? The ribbon-cutting for the community garden is at two.”
“Right,” William said, forcing a smile. “The garden.”
He stood up, putting on his jacket. He had everything he thought he wanted–peace, family, integrity. So why did he feel like a ghost haunting his own life? He walked to the window, looking up at the penthouse level where the real decisions were made, and felt a dangerous pull toward the chaos he had left behind.