Chapter 2 - The Architect of Ruin
I checked into the penthouse suite of the Mandarin Oriental,
feeling the cool air conditioning wrap around me like a shroud.
My lawyer,
Mr. Miller,
was waiting by the window with a thick leather folder.
He had been my father’s most trusted advisor,
and now he was mine.
"They've already called the police,
Laura,"
he said,
handing me a glass of iced water.
"But as soon as the officers saw the deed,
they told Spencer there was nothing they could do."
"Civil matter,
they said."
I sat down,
crossing my legs and feeling the silk of my suit.
"Did you serve the papers for the company?"
I asked.
Miller nodded,
a grim smile touching his lips.
"The board of directors of his construction firm has been notified."
"Technically,
since you own 70% of the equity through the shell companies,"
"you’ve called an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning."
"He thinks he's the king,"
I murmured,
staring at the city lights.
"But he's just a tenant in my world."
The phone on the table buzzed incessantly.
It was Spencer,
calling for the fiftieth time.
Then came the texts from Evelyn.
"How could you do this to us?"
"We are family!"
"Think of the baby!"
I deleted them without reading further.
Family doesn't slam gates in the faces of those who saved them.
Family doesn't use a woman’s trauma as a weapon.
I remembered the hospital bed,
the sterile smell of the room,
and the way Spencer had held my hand.
I thought it was love,
but now I realized it was just a down payment on his future.
He had stayed until the checks cleared,
and then he had started looking for a "real woman."
"What about the bride's father?"
I asked Miller.
"Enzo Rossi,"
Miller replied.
"A man who values reputation above all else."
"He thinks Spencer is a self-made billionaire."
"When he finds out the 'business' is a hollowed-out husk,"
"he will withdraw his support faster than a heartbeat."
I stood up and walked to the balcony.
The humid air of Miami still lingered,
but from this height,
everything looked small.
Spencer was down there somewhere,
probably trying to explain to Penelope why they were sleeping in a house with no lights.
He would be lying to her,
just as he had lied to me.
He would tell her it was a glitch,
a mistake,
a bitter ex-wife’s stunt.
But tomorrow,
the truth would be a physical weight.
"I want everything liquidated,"
I said,
my voice as cold as the ice in my glass.
"The cars,
the art,
the boat in the harbor."
"If I paid for it,
I want it back."
"Even the ring?"
Miller asked.
"Especially the ring,"
I replied.
"It was my grandmother’s diamond."
"He had no right to put it on another woman’s finger."
The night was long,
but I didn't sleep much.
I spent the hours reviewing spreadsheets and bank statements.
I saw the thousands of dollars he had spent on jewelry for Penelope.
I saw the trips to Paris they took while I was working in San Antonio.
Every transaction was a paper cut,
but I was no longer bleeding.
I was becoming the blade.
By dawn,
the plan was foolproof.
The "real woman" and her "real man" were about to face a very real reality.
The sun rose over the Atlantic,
blood-red and beautiful.
May you like
It was a new day,
and the Chairwoman was ready to take her seat.
