Chapter 6 - The Arrogance Behind Closed Doors
That evening, Richard came home late.
The house was eerily dark, save for the single lamp illuminating the dining room table where I sat with a cup of herbal tea. Richard walked in, carrying a heavy leather briefcase. Despite the walls closing in on him at the office, he had managed to convince himself of his own invincibility. Narcissists always do when their backs are against the wall.
He threw his keys onto the table and loosened his tie, looking at me with a patronizing smirk.
“You’ll be happy to know,” Richard said, leaning against the doorframe, “that your little stunt failed. Tomorrow morning, I meet with the board. Arthur Sterling and the rest of the old guard know that Halcyon can’t hit its quarterly guidance without my vendor relationships. They’re going to give me a slap on the wrist for the viral video, announce my COO promotion next month, and this entire nightmare will be over.”
I took a slow sip of tea and looked at him. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I know it,” Richard sneered, stepping closer. “Because in the real world, Clara, competence and power outweigh optics. You tried to humiliate me. You refused to stand by your husband. So here is what is going to happen next.”
He opened his briefcase, pulled out a manila folder, and dropped it in front of me.
“Those are post-nuptial terms prepared by my personal attorneys,” Richard said cold-bloodedly. “You will sign over your rights to our Oakridge estate, forfeit any claim to my Halcyon equity in the event of separation, and agree to complete non-disclosure regarding our private lives. In exchange, I will allow you to remain in this house with a monthly stipend until I decide otherwise.”
I looked down at the folder without opening it. “And if I refuse?”
“If you refuse,” Richard leaned down, his eyes narrowing to cruel slits, “I will file for divorce on grounds of marital abandonment. I will use every high-powered litigator in this city to tie you up in court until you run out of money for legal fees. You will leave this marriage with the clothes on your back and the broken glass from the gala floor. You don't belong at my table, Clara. You never did. Know your place.”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, letting his words hang in the air. When I opened them, every trace of warmth had vanished.
“I will see you tomorrow morning, Richard.”
He laughed, arrogant and triumphant, believing he had finally broken my spirit. “I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. Be ready to sign those papers by noon tomorrow.”
He turned and walked up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and self-assured.
May you like
I reached for my phone, dialed Marcus Vance, and said four words:
“Execute the asset freezes.”
