Chapter 4 - The Terrace Confrontation
Before Chloe could answer, heavy, hurried footsteps echoed behind her.
Marcus appeared in the doorway of the terrace, his tuxedo jacket rumpled, his hair out of place. He looked less like a successful CEO and more like a drowning man grasping at a floating piece of driftwood.
"Evelyn," Marcus breathed, stepping out onto the cool stone patio where the fountain trickled softly in the dark. "We need to talk. Just... just the two of us."
"There is nothing left to talk about, Marcus," I said, turning to face the manicured hedge maze beyond the patio railing.
"Don't do this," he pleaded, closing the distance between us until I could smell the expensive scotch mixed with cold sweat on his breath. "You can't let Julian destroy my company. After everything we had—after five years of building—"
"You mean the five years you spent lying, cheating, and plotting how to leave me destitute?" I turned back to face him, my eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp fire. "Let's be very clear, Marcus. You didn't 'leave' me. I let you go because your presence was toxic, and your character was bankrupt."
Marcus flinched as if I had struck him across the face. "I was ambitious! I wanted a life that actually mattered! You were just... you were content with a quiet compliance job, staying in the background while I climbed—"
"While I paid your graduate school tuition?" I interrupted, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper. "While I proofread your briefs, managed our household budget, and covered for your professional screw-ups so you could look like a genius to your investors? You were nothing without my backing, Marcus. And you're about to find out you're even less without it now."
Marcus stared at me, the reality of his impending destruction finally sinking past his massive ego. His lips parted, but no words came out.
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the terrace slid open again.
It wasn't Julian.
It was a tall, sharp-featured man in a dark trench coat, holding a sleek leather briefcase. He walked straight past Marcus as if my ex-husband were a piece of patio furniture, stopping directly in front of me.
May you like
"Mrs. Rhodes," the man said, nodding politely. "I'm sorry to interrupt your evening. But federal marshals have just served the asset-freeze warrant on Mercer Tech's primary accounts. Your presence is requested at the corporate legal liaison desk inside."
---
