Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle

Chapter 412: Entering Global Market

Arianne had been away from the boardroom for several months, but she walked back into it like she’d never left.

The conference room was the same as it had always been: the long table, the high-backed chairs, the windows overlooking the city skyline. The same faces around the table. The same undercurrent of tension that always accompanied these meetings, the careful dance of power and influence that Arianne had learned to read years ago and had long since mastered.

She arrived with Franz at her side. Two months after giving birth, she had already lost much of the weight she’d gained during pregnancy. Her suit fit her the way it always had: sharp, tailored, commanding. Her hair was swept back from her face. Her expression was calm, controlled, the mask she wore in every professional setting. To the board members watching her take her seat, she looked exactly the same as she had before her leave. There was no visible evidence that she had spent the past two months recovering from childbirth, waking for night feedings, learning the rhythms of a newborn’s needs.

Only Franz knew the truth. Only Franz had seen her at three in the morning, pacing the nursery with Lexx in her arms, her hair uncombed and her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Only Franz had watched her struggle to find clothes that fit in the early weeks, had seen her frustration at her own body’s slow recovery. The woman sitting at the head of the table now was the same woman who had wept in his arms in a hospital room, overwhelmed by the news that she was pregnant. But no one else in this room would ever know that. They saw only the CEO.

Vincent was already seated near the head of the table, his presence a grounding one. He had been attending more meetings lately, his health improved enough that he could participate without strain. He nodded at Arianne as she took her place, a small gesture of acknowledgment.

The meeting began.

"The company’s performance over the past quarter has been stable," Arianne said, her voice carrying across the table with the same calm authority it had always held. "Revenue is up seven percent year over year. Our domestic market share has increased across all major sectors. The consolidation strategy implemented over the past eighteen months has yielded the projected results."

She clicked through the presentation slides on the screen behind her. Graphs. Projections. The careful, methodical mapping of a company that had been stabilized, strengthened, and positioned for growth.

"I’m now presenting a five-year projection that I’ve discussed with Chairman Rochefort. This plan prioritizes continued domestic expansion, deepening our existing influence before pursuing international markets."

The board listened. Most of them nodded along. Arianne’s track record spoke for itself: she had taken a company in crisis and transformed it into something stronger than it had been in years. The numbers were undeniable.

But not everyone was satisfied.

"Ms. Summers." It was Harding, the same board member who had challenged Franz’s expenditures months ago and been forced to back down. He was more cautious now, his tone careful, but the question was pointed. "You’ve done remarkable work domestically. No one disputes that. But our competitors are expanding internationally. Blackwood Corporation, for all its recent struggles, at least attempted to enter the global market. Why aren’t we pursuing the same strategy?"

Arianne turned to face him. "The company is ready. But are we? The board? The leadership? International expansion carries risks that domestic consolidation does not. Different regulatory environments. Different market conditions. Different competitors. I’m not opposed to international expansion. I’m opposed to pursuing it before we have the infrastructure and data to support it."

"With respect, you’ve already deepened Rochefort Group’s roots and influence domestically to an unprecedented degree. We have the foundation to take higher risks."

"She’s right." Franz’s voice cut through the murmur. He was seated further down the table, his presence a reminder that he was not just Arianne’s husband but a member of the Rochefort family with a stake in the company’s future. "Foundation isn’t the same as preparation. If we move too fast, we risk exactly what happened to Blackwood."

Another board member leaned forward. "Then why don’t we seek out the Mythos Group? Blackwood attempted to secure their investment and failed. But we’re not Blackwood. We have a stronger position, better numbers, a more compelling case. If Dominic Blackwood couldn’t close the deal, that doesn’t mean we can’t."

The room went silent.

Arianne’s expression didn’t change. But Franz, who had spent years learning to read the subtle changes in her face, saw something flicker behind her eyes. Something that wasn’t quite surprise. Something closer to recognition.

She didn’t respond. The silence stretched. And Vincent—Chairman Rochefort, who had been listening throughout the meeting—spoke.

"We’ll follow the five-year plan as presented. As for entering the international market, I want data. Collate enough to assess the risks and create a feasibility plan. We’ll revisit this discussion when we have something concrete." He paused, his eyes moving to Arianne. "This meeting is adjourned."

The board filed out. Harding lingered, as if he wanted to say something more, then thought better of it and left. The door closed behind the last of them.

Vincent rose from his chair. "Arianne. My office. Now."

Franz looked at her, a question in his eyes. She gave a small shake of her head—not now, not here—and followed Vincent out of the room.

Franz turned to Gio, who had been standing near the back of the room throughout the meeting, his tablet in his hand, his expression unreadable. "What was that about? The Mythos Group question. She went silent."

Gio didn’t look up from his tablet. "It’s a conversation she can’t avoid anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should ask her. Not me."

"Gio—"

"Franz." Gio’s voice was calm but firm. "This isn’t my information to share. She’ll tell you when she’s ready."

Franz held his gaze for a long moment. He didn’t like it. But he trusted Gio. And he trusted Arianne.

He nodded and said nothing more.