Chapter 5
It had been three days since I moved into the private clinic Rachel arranged for me.
The place was quiet and high up, and with the curtains drawn I could barely hear anything from outside.
The nurses came on schedule every day to treat my face. The swelling had gone down, and it still hurt to touch.
I barely looked at my phone. Everything I needed to send had gone out, and everything that needed to stop had stopped.
I didn't make a scene, and I didn't go asking anyone for an explanation.
At that point, talking about how unfair it all was would have been pointless.
Around three in the afternoon, Rachel came in and told me James was there.
I nodded.
When James pushed the door open, he brought the cold in with him. He looked worse than he had two days earlier, his tie was crooked, and there was stubble along his jaw.
Henry, who was right behind him, set something down on the coffee table and quickly left the room.
There were three things on the coffee table.
A property transfer document, a share transfer agreement, and a termination notice.
I didn't even need to open it to know who the third one was for.
James stood in front of me, and his throat worked. He probably hadn't spoken to anyone in that tone for a long time, and it came out awkward.
"Vivian, I've already handled what happened the day before yesterday," he said.
I leaned back in my chair, not saying a word.
He pushed the documents a little closer to me.
"The house goes into your name. The shares are negotiable. Sylvia leaves today and you won't see her again. Those twelve slaps are on me," he said.
I looked at him.
He had come prepared, and the wording was right. Anywhere else, watching a CEO come down this far, most people would have said it was more than enough.
But I only asked one question.
"Are you here to apologize, or just to cut your losses?"
The room went dead silent.
James' face grew more and more tense.
He understood it completely, and that was what made his face go dark.
"I came to see you first, not because of the company," he said.
"Then why wasn't the first thing you asked if I was in pain?" I shot back.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
I glanced down at the documents on the table, not even bothering to flip through them.
"We can get divorced, and I don't want a dime from you. What happens to Sylvia is your problem. If you think this is enough to win me back, it's not," I said.
His hand slowly tightened.
"So what do you want?" he asked.
"I don't want anything," I said. "I'm just done bailing you out from now on."
"Bailing me out?" he echoed.
I looked at him.
The last three years had been a waste. I had done a great deal of it, and it went on his record.
A lot of people came to the table for me, and he thought they came for him. In the end, he needed somebody else to tell him why I had walked into that conference room.
"James," I called.
I called his name.
"You still think the worst thing that happened to me the other day was getting slapped twelve times," I said.
He didn't say a word.
Just then, his phone rang.
The first call was from the bank. He picked up, listened for a moment, and his face changed. "You said it was on hold. Why is the account frozen?"
Before he could hang up, a supplier called. He dropped his voice. "Don't shut the line down. We can still talk terms."
I sat there, watching him take call after call.
Then the independent directors started calling, Michael sent a message, and Henry fired off one reminder after another.
His phone screen kept lighting up and then going dark, over and over.
The messages got shorter and more frantic.
[Mr. Dalton, you need to get back to the company.]
[The board meeting's been moved up.]
[Something just arrived. Mr. Langley and Mr. Grant are both here.]
[If you don't show up soon, someone's going to make a move.]
James gripped his phone and looked up at me, and the low, careful tone from the doorway was gone. What came through was panic.
"Come back with me and let's straighten this out. Name your terms. Shares, assets, a public apology, anything. Vivian, just come back with me," he said.
I got up slowly.
My face was still sore, and every time I moved, the pain shot right up to my ear.
I walked up to him and stared him straight in the eyes.
I said, "I went to the conference room that day to save you.
"But you were the one who slammed the door in my face."
He stood there, completely frozen.
I didn't look at him again. I turned and walked over to the window.
Behind me, I heard him leave in a hurry and the door slam. Out in the hallway, his voice was tight as he spoke into the phone.
He was probably telling them he'd be there right away.
I didn't go after him.
An hour later, Rachel came back with the news.
Rachel said that when James got back to Dalton Pharmaceuticals, nobody in the top-floor conference room was speaking.
Michael was standing by the window, his face white as a sheet.
Susan sat with her head down, turning pages for a long time without writing a word.
Edward stood by the conference table with his hand on a document that had just come in, and his face was as dark as it could get.
Sylvia was there too. She wasn't even crying anymore, just standing in the corner, her lips pale as paper.
As soon as James walked in, the first thing he saw was that document.
Edward pushed the document toward him.
"See for yourself," he said.