Chapter 2 - The Fire in the Hearth|
I stepped back from the door, my leather shoes making no sound against the thick Persian runner.
I walked down the grand corridor into my private study, shutting the heavy oak door behind me. The fireplace crackled softly, casting long, dancing orange shadows across the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
I looked down at the twenty-seven pages resting on my mahogany desk.
The yellow tabs marking the signature lines glowed under the brass lamp.
Dante Moretti. Alina Vance Moretti.
I picked up the fountain pen—the platinum Montblanc Alina had given me for my forty-second birthday—and held it over the flame of the hearth.
With a single movement, I dropped the entire divorce agreement into the fire.
The thick parchment curled, blackened, and burst into bright orange flames, consuming the twenty-million-dollar trust, the Evanston townhouse transfer, and the three years of silence we had built between us.
My phone chimed on the desk.
It was Marcus Vance—my Chief Operating Officer, my distant cousin, and the man I had trusted with Moretti Global for a decade.
"Dante," Marcus’s smooth voice came through the speaker. "The legal team just called. They said the final settlement papers are ready for your signature tonight. Shall I have the press release sent to the Chicago Tribune for tomorrow morning?"
I stared into the dying embers of the fireplace, my gray eyes turning into solid, freezing ice.
"Cancel the press release, Marcus," I said, my tone low and deadly calm.
May you like
"What? Dante, the board is expecting the announcement. The restructuring depends on—"
"The divorce is canceled," I interrupted. "And I need you in my office at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. We have a debt to discuss."
