Chapter 3 - The Fall of an Empire
By the following morning,
the news of the Harrell heiress’s return had sent shockwaves through the financial markets.
Spencer’s office was a scene of controlled chaos,
with phones ringing incessantly and assistants scurrying like rats on a sinking ship.
He had tried to call me fifty times,
each message growing more desperate,
more pathetic,
and more filled with the lies he thought could save him.
I sat in my father's boardroom,
surrounded by a team of lawyers who looked like they were ready to devour the world.
"Spencer's company,
Apex Group,
is built on a foundation of cards,"
my lead counsel explained,
laying out a map of Spencer's vulnerabilities.
"He’s been overleveraged for years,
counting on a merger that we just blocked ten minutes ago."
I looked at the documents,
the numbers dancing before my eyes like a scoreboard of his failures.
He had used our marital assets as collateral for loans I never signed for,
a move that was not just greedy,
but illegal.
"I want everything,"
I said,
my voice cold and devoid of any lingering affection for the man I once thought I loved.
"The house,
the SUV,
the stocks,
and every cent he has hidden in offshore accounts."
My father sat at the head of the table,
watching me with a pride that he had never shown when I was playing the "good wife."
"We’ve already started the hostile takeover,"
he added,
tapping a pen against the mahogany table.
"By noon,
Spencer will find out that his board of directors has voted to remove him as CEO."
I felt a surge of adrenaline,
a realization that the power I had feared was actually my birthright.
I had spent three years shrinking myself to fit into Spencer's world,
never realizing his world was a toy box compared to mine.
A knock on the door interrupted us,
and a junior associate entered,
looking pale and nervous.
"Mr.
Conway is downstairs,"
she whispered,
"he's demanding to see his wife."
I looked at my father,
who simply raised an eyebrow,
leaving the decision to me.
"Send him up,"
I said,
adjusting the cuffs of my silk blouse.
"It's time he learned the difference between a wife and a Harrell."
When Spencer burst into the room,
he looked like a man who had been through a war,
his hair disheveled and his eyes bloodshot.
He didn't look at the lawyers or my father;
he looked only at me,
searching for the woman who used to forgive him for everything.
"Phoebe,
please,"
he begged,
stumbling toward the table before the security guards stepped in his way.
"We can fix this,
I was wrong,
I was stressed,
I didn't mean any of it."
I stood up slowly,
leaning over the table to look him in the eye.
"You didn't just mean it,
Spencer,"
I said,
each word a nail in his coffin.
"You enjoyed it."
May you like
"Now,
get out of my office before I have you arrested for trespassing on property you no longer own."
