Chapter 3

On the last day of my marriage, Connor asked for my company shares before he asked where I was going.

We sat across from each other in a private conference room downtown.

The divorce papers were already laid out between us, pristine and binding.

Outside the glass walls, Brooke was waiting in Connor’s car, but he hadn't bothered to invite her inside.

He didn't need to.

His phone was already buzzing incessantly on the table.

A text notification lit up the screen: Brooke: Is it done yet?

I looked right at the screen, but I said nothing.

Connor cleared his throat, sliding a final addendum across the mahogany table.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “Your shares in the company.”

I lifted my eyes to meet his.

“You haven't been involved in operations for years,” Connor continued, ticking items off on his fingers as if negotiating a routine corporate asset. “Keeping them would only complicate things. I'll buy you out at the original valuation.”

The sheer audacity hung heavily in the air.

Seven years ago, when the company was nothing more than an empty room with two folding chairs, I had sold my entire investment account to fund our first survival capital.

Now, the enterprise was worth tens of millions, and he wanted to strip me of every last cent by paying me back at the pennies-on-the-dollar rate of our inception.

He didn't even blink as he delivered the ultimate insult.

“You should be grateful I'm offering anything.”

I didn't scream.

I didn't flip the table or hurl accusations.

I simply reached over, pulled the papers closer, and read through every line with agonizing slowness.

Connor watched me, a flicker of cautious impatience crossing his face.

He expected tears.

He expected a desperate plea or a bitter argument.

Instead, I looked up.

“If I sign this, we're done?” I asked.

“Completely,” Connor replied, his shoulders relaxing in relief.

“Good.”

I took a pen, uncapped it, and signed my name at the bottom of the page.

Connor actually froze for a second, genuinely startled by how easily I had surrendered.

A smug, self-satisfied smirk quickly replaced his shock.

“I knew you'd eventually be reasonable,” he said, sounding entirely patronizing.

I didn't say a word in response.

He thought those shares were the most valuable thing I owned.

That was almost funny.

I had helped build his company from nothing.

Now I knew exactly how to destroy it piece by piece.

Thirty minutes later, I walked out of the law building into the afternoon sunlight.

Brooke was leaning against the passenger side of Connor’s luxury sedan.

When she saw me, she adjusted her posture just enough to flash the glint of the designer jewelry Connor had bought her, holding his car keys in her hand like a trophy.

As I passed them, Brooke put on her best mask of sympathetic sorrow.

“Natalie, I hope someday you understand none of this was meant to hurt you,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

I didn't even break my stride.

“I'm sure you believe that,” I said flatly.

Connor frowned, stepping closer to shield her. “Don't make this uglier than it has to be, Natalie.”

“I won't.”

Connor thought the divorce was over.

Six hours later, he would learn it was only the beginning.