Chapter 6
After hanging up, I stared at my phone, my grip tightening until my knuckles turned white.
William knew my studio was my everything.
It was a design brand I built from scratch. On its hardest days, I pulled all‑nighters alongside two employees inside a cramped 430‑square‑foot office.
He did invest in it back then, but I paid him back every cent, plus interest. Now he's bringing up old debts, not for the sake of money, but to force me back to the negotiating table.
Sophia read the email and let out a cold laugh. "He's fast, I'll give him that."
I asked, "Can you handle it?"
"No problem," she said, tapping the table. "You got the repayment records?"
"Yes, they're in the company accounts," I replied.
She nodded. "Perfect. If he thinks he can use the studio to corner you, let him try. He'll come up empty-handed."
That afternoon, I went back to the studio. Everyone sat in the conference room, not a single word spoken.
Outside, the sound of traffic filtered in through the glass, while the air conditioner made the papers flutter quietly.
I laid the documents out on the table.
"Don't let William's email freak you out. Everything's legit. My lawyer will take care of it," I said.
Lily, the young designer, looked at me, hesitating, her voice barely above a whisper. "Emily, you and Mr. Shore..."
Her words faded away. I finished for her, "We're getting divorced."
The conference room went dead silent.
Some people gasped, while others just kept their eyes glued to the table.
I went on, "This is my personal business, and it won't affect the projects. If anyone's worried about the studio getting dragged into this, just talk to me. I won't stop you."
Lily stood up. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.
Another guy spoke up, "I'm staying too. When the client held back our final payment, you were the one who stepped up for us, Emily."
The finance manager, eyes red, said, "I'll handle the accounts. If Mr. Shore wants to go through every record, I'll be right there with him."
I looked at them, my throat tightening.
All this time, I thought my marriage was what kept me going.
But in the end, the real ones standing by my side were those who pulled all-nighters with me, shared takeout, and vented about clients together.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, William showed up at the studio, unannounced, in a black overcoat, his assistant following close on his heels.
The receptionist couldn't stop him, and he marched straight up to my office door.
I was on a video call with Sophia.
When he saw Sophia on the screen, his face darkened. "Are you seriously letting outsiders run the show?" he said.
I closed my laptop. "She's my attorney," I said, my voice steady.
"I'm your husband," William snapped.
"Not for much longer," I shot back.
His jaw clenched.
His assistant stood behind him, nervously avoiding eye contact with me.
William slammed a document down on my desk. "I won't pursue the early investment agreement, but you need to withdraw the asset protection application immediately. We'll settle this at home."
I opened the file and skimmed it. He turned his investment into a so-called loan and slapped on crazy interest.
I shut the file. "Forgery?" I asked.
His eyes went cold. "Be careful with your words."
I pulled out my phone and pulled up the email he sent me back then.
"The original agreement is here. You laid everything out plainly. You were investing for equity and would not engage in daily business operations. I was to buy back your shares at the end of three years.
"William, you put your own signature on it. Do you want me to refresh your memory?" I retorted.
His eyes dropped to the screen.
I continued, "As for the buy‑back funds, I transferred them to your corporate account in three separate installments. The bank statements and receipts are all on file.
"You come at me now with an altered document to intimidate me. Do you think marriage turned me into a fool?"
His assistant's expression shifted, looking uneasy. William turned to glance at him, and the assistant quickly looked down.
I shoved the document back at William. "Take it with you. Don't get my desk dirty," I said.
He didn't take it.
The paper slipped to the floor, its corner curling up.
By the time I realized, the hallway outside my office was crowded with people, all watching the drama unfold.
William dropped his voice. "Emily, don't blow this up."
I fired back, "You storm into my studio, throwing threats around, and somehow I'm the one causing trouble?"
He stared at me, and there was a flicker of that familiar weariness in his eyes.
In every quarrel we'd had in the past, whenever that look crossed his face, I would be the one to give in first.
I would make him a cup of coffee and tell him to let it go, that we were both worn out.
This time, though, I just sat there. I didn't move an inch.
After a long moment, William finally stooped and picked up the file from the floor.
He paused at the door. "You think you can just walk out on me? It's not that easy," William said.
I watched his back as he walked away. "You'll see. I'm not someone who needs things to be easy," I said.
As soon as he left, Lily rushed in and shut the door behind her.
"Emily, he totally freaked us out just now," she said.
I lowered my gaze to the desk.
There was a faint scratch on the surface, left by the corner of his file.
I tried to wipe it away with my fingertip, but it wouldn't budge.
My phone buzzed. Sophia texted me: [The court approved the asset protection. Some of his accounts will be frozen this afternoon.]
I replied with just one word: [Okay.]
Ten minutes later, William called again, and I picked up.
It was noisy on his end, like he was in a conference room.
His breathing was heavy, almost ragged. "Emily, did you freeze my accounts?"
I walked over to the window and looked down at his car, still parked outside.
"Just making sure our shared assets are safe," I said.
He gritted his teeth. "You know I have a funding meeting this afternoon?"
"I know," I replied.
"You did this on purpose?" he snapped.
"Didn't you say leaving you wouldn't be easy?" I shot back.
There was dead silence on the other end.
I said it quietly, almost to myself.
"Let me give it a shot."