I reached into my purse and pulled out the velvet box I had found in his sock drawer days ago. The engagement ring. I placed it on the dresser next to his watch.
"You don't have to go."
"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion. I zipped up the suitcase. "You fired me, Charles. You humiliated me in front of the entire industry. You made it very clear that I’m unwanted."
"I was hurt, Nadine!" Charles stepped into the room. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo anymore. He was in his casual cashmere sweater, looking soft, approachable. The perfect actor. "I saw the proof. The photos. The recording. What was I supposed to do? Applaud you for sleeping your way to the top?"
I spun around, fury flaring in my chest. "I didn't do it. You know me. You know I would never—"
"Do I?" He cut me off, his eyes narrowing. "Do I really know you? Because the Nadine I knew wouldn't have been in that hotel room."
"It was a setup!" I snapped. "And if you loved me, you would have asked me first. You wouldn't have thrown me to the wolves."
"I do love you," he said, and the lie was so smooth it almost made me sick. He walked closer, reaching out to touch my arm. I flinched. "But I have a reputation to uphold. The firm comes first. You know that better than anyone."
I grabbed the handle of my suitcase. "I'm leaving."
"And go where?" Charles blocked the doorway. He crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "To your other men? To the clients you 'serviced'?"
"Get out of my way," I warned.
"Be realistic, Nadine," he sighed, his tone shifting to patronizing pity. "You have no money. You have no job. Your name is mud. Who’s going to hire you? You’re radioactive."
"I have money," I spat. "I own thirty percent of Sterling Architecture. My shares—"
"—are frozen," Charles interrupted calmly. "Pending the internal investigation into your... corporate espionage and misconduct. You can't access a dime, Nadine. You’re broke."
My grip on the suitcase tightened. He had thought of everything. He and Elaine had really planned this down to the last detail. They wanted me destitute.
"So," Charles continued, stepping closer, looming over me. "I’m offering you a lifeline. Because I’m a good man. Because, despite everything, I still care about you. Stay. Live here. In the guest room, of course. And you can still work for the firm."
"You just fired me."
"As a partner, yes," he nodded. "But we still need... grunt work done. Drafting. Revisions. You can work freelance. Off the books. I’ll pay you a stipend. It’s better than starving on the street, isn't it?"
I stared at him. He wanted to keep me close, to control me, to make sure I didn't fight back.
And he didn't know I was pregnant. He didn't know I had overheard him and Elaine laughing about their victory.
If I left now, I had nothing. No access to the servers. No access to the blueprints. No leverage.
I needed the Al-Fayed plans. I needed the evidence of the zoning fraud he had buried in the sub-files.
I forced my shoulders to slump. I let my eyes fill with tears.
"Fine," I whispered, looking down. "I... I don't have anywhere else to go."
"I knew you’d see reason. You should thank me, Nadine. Most men would have kicked you to the curb. I’m giving you a second chance."
"Thank you, Charles," I choked out, fighting the urge to vomit. "What do you want me to do?"
"Go to the office," he said, checking his watch. "Elaine has some filing that needs to be done. And the HVAC schematics for the Midtown project need redrawing. Get to it."
Walking back into Sterling Architecture was like walking into a funeral where I was the corpse. The silence was deafening as I crossed the lobby. Receptionists I had hired refused to make eye contact. Junior architects I had mentored whispered behind their hands.
"She actually came back?"
"Have you no shame?"
I kept my head down, clutching my bag. I walked toward the elevator, intending to go to my office on the 40th floor.
"Ah, ah, ah," a voice sang out.
Elaine stepped in front of the elevator bank. She was wearing my favorite shade of lipstick and holding a clipboard.
"You don't have clearance for the executive floor anymore, sweetie," she smirked. "Charles revoked your pass. We moved your things. The executive suite is for... executives. You’re in the archives now. Basement level 2," she pointed downward. "No windows. But plenty of privacy for you to think about what you’ve done."
She tossed a key card at me. It hit my chest and clattered to the floor.
I turned and took the service elevator down.
The basement smelled of dust and old toner. My "office" was a converted storage closet, piled high with boxes. A single flickering bulb hung from the ceiling. A wobbly desk sat in the corner with an outdated computer.
I locked the door. I pulled a high-speed external drive from my bag. I plugged it into the computer. I bypassed the firewalls I had built myself. I went straight to the Al-Fayed folder. I downloaded everything. The blueprints, the structural analysis, and most importantly, the hidden folder labeled "Zoning_Bribes."
I copied the emails between Charles and the city council. I copied the falsified safety reports. Everything that would ruin him.
Then, I pulled out my phone. It rang three times before a deep, rough voice answered.
"Mateo," I said, leaning against the brick wall, clutching the blueprints to my chest. "It’s Nadine Ross. I have the Al-Fayed blueprints," I said, cutting to the chase. "And I have proof of Charles’s fraud. I can hand you his empire on a silver platter."
"I’m listening," Mateo’s voice dropped an octave. "What’s the price?"
"I need protection. I need resources. And I need a reason for him to never touch me again."
He chuckled. “Well, are you proposing marriage to ruin my greatest rival? Cause that’d be wonderful.”
