Chapter 6 - STRIPPED BARE
Ivan sank slowly into the leather chair at the head of the table, the color completely drained from his face. The cocky, arrogant man who had laughed while burning my hand in the backyard was entirely gone, replaced by a pathetic, sweating fraud.
“Elena,” Ivan whispered, looking up at me with watery eyes. “Please. We’ve been married for ten years. You can't do this to me. I made mistakes, yes, but we can fix this together. Just sign the restructuring papers over to me, and we can keep up appearances.”
I pulled out a sleek silver pen and laid it on the table. I didn't hand it to him; I just let it sit there between us.
“Ten years, Ivan,” I said quietly, leaning down so my face was inches from his. “Ten years of cooking your meals, managing your schedule, covering your debts, and watching you take all the credit while you treated me like dirt beneath your expensive shoes.”
“I was stressed,” he whimpered, his voice cracking pathetically. “The company pressure—”
“The pressure didn't make you burn my hand,” I interrupted, my voice dropping an octave, filled with absolute ice. “That was pure, unfiltered cruelty. And yesterday afternoon, the security camera in our backyard captured every single second of it in high definition.”
Ivan froze. “You... you’re going to release the footage?”
“Oh, it’s already out,” I smiled faintly.
Marcus tapped his phone screen, showing a trending local Twitter hashtag: #VanguardAbuser. Already, thousands of retweets and news outlets were picking up the story. Vanguard’s PR team was in full meltdown mode.
“You’re a monster,” Ivan hissed, finally letting his mask slip completely as venom replaced his tears. “Nobody will ever want you! You’re just a broken housewife without me!”
“We’ll see about that,” I said straightening up. “Marcus, escort Mr. Vance out of the building. Revoke his parking privileges, cancel his corporate credit cards, and have the locks changed on our house by noon.”
“With pleasure, Elena,” Marcus said, signaling two burly security guards who stepped into the room and grabbed Ivan firmly by both arms.
May you like
Ivan screamed and thrashed as they dragged him backward out of the boardroom, his expensive loafers squeaking uselessly against the polished floor.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him. The room fell completely silent. I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking out over the city skyline, and took my first truly deep, unrestricted breath in a decade.
