What he couldn't stomach was the idea that my love for him had been a lie all along.
He assumed I couldn't let go of him, couldn't walk away from the Henson Group.
But after two lifetimes of groveling, two lifetimes of suffering, he could forget about getting so much as a kind word from me.
If he and Fiona Prescott shared some deep, unbreakable bond, he should have just said so. I was the Henson family's only daughter. It wasn't as if he was my only option.
What he should not have done was covet my family's assets with one hand while chasing his own pleasure with the other.
That kind of selfish, despicable greed? If I let him off the hook in this lifetime, the universe itself would owe me an apology.
"Dominic, you want me to explain things to the Calloway board?"
"You're the one who needs to explain. Go tell them how you schemed and lied for your little mistress and destroyed the Henson-Calloway alliance all by yourself."
I walked over the shattered glass without slowing down and headed upstairs.
Word of the Henson Group's moves spread fast. Rumors about the divorce tore through every boardroom in the city's upper circles.
Ava Henson and Dominic Calloway's marriage collapses. Calloway Group stock in freefall.
The Henson family goes all in. Has the Henson heiress lost her mind?
Everyone was calculating the cost of this split, convinced I was acting on impulse.
Only I knew the truth. This wasn't a tantrum.
This was salvation.
Cutting the deadweight loose was the only way to win.
The joint development projects between the Henson and Calloway Groups? Pulled.
The technical teams the Henson family had lent to support Calloway operations? Pulled.
Henson capital? Every last cent of it. Gone.
As for whatever support the Calloways had provided in return, my father and I had already lined up new teams, new technical management, weeks in advance.
Within twenty-four hours, the replacements were in place. Every project under Henson's control moved forward without a hitch.
The funding gap was covered by a contract we'd already signed with the bank. The money would land in two days.
The Calloway side, on the other hand, descended into chaos. Three major projects under their control collapsed the moment the technical teams walked out, grinding to a dead halt overnight.
New products already in production had to be shelved indefinitely when the cash dried up.
Dominic finally panicked.
The first time, he waited for me outside my office building. The second he saw me, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into my own office.
He'd even adjusted the lights to a warm, study-like glow, as if atmosphere alone could soften me.
From behind his back, he produced a document and held it out.
"Ava, isn't this what you're afraid of? That I'll use Calloway Group resources to bankroll Fiona?" He set the papers on the desk between us. "This is a transfer agreement. Sign it, and you become the legal representative of the Calloway Group."
"The house we live in, the cars, every dollar in my accounts. All yours."
He stepped closer, and his expression shifted into something I'd rarely seen from him: tenderness.
"Ava, we've had eighteen years together. We can work anything out. I truly care about you. Can we please not get divorced?"
I stared at the transfer agreement, and the urge to laugh nearly split me open.
So in this lifetime, Dominic was playing the exact same hand.
In my previous life, he'd funneled company resources and clients to the Prescotts one deal at a time. When I'd fought him over it, when I'd threatened divorce, he'd done this same thing. The same earnest apology. The same grand gesture of changing the Calloway Group's legal representative to my name.
The same script. The same con.
The reality was that there were no "eighteen years of love." He'd already set up a new company on the side: Calloway-Prescott Corp.
Back then, I'd been moved to tears, foolishly convinced that somewhere deep down, Dominic still cared about me.
Two months later, I discovered the truth. The company he'd so generously "given" me had already been leveraged to the hilt with the bank, buried under mountains of unpaid debt to every major partner they'd ever worked with.
What awaited me wasn't a gift. It was bankruptcy. And it dragged the entire Henson family down with it.
I blinked back the tears that came from holding in the laugh too long, picked up the contract, read it once, read it again, then slammed it into Dominic's face.
"Dominic, I wouldn't touch your family's pile of garbage with a ten-foot pole. Save it for your little mistress."
Dominic's expression shifted. He was silent for three seconds before mustering a helpless smile.
"Alright, I know you're still upset about Fiona. I promise I won't get involved with her anymore, okay?"
"I've already helped her enough. She could never be more important than my wife. I'm not going to let some outsider drive you away."
He reached for my waist and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
I stared at him, stunned. I'd never known he could grovel like this for a woman.
Two lifetimes of suffering. Two lifetimes of giving him everything I had. And what did it amount to?
A sacrifice on the altar of their love? Something I deserved?
The fury tore through me before I could stop it. My hand flew up and cracked across his face with every ounce of rage I had.
"Dominic, are you really going to keep up this act?"
He froze where he stood. Disbelief warred with barely contained fury across his face.
He hadn't expected this. He'd lowered himself, conceded, played the repentant husband, and I still hadn't melted into forgiveness, still hadn't kissed him with grateful relief.
His throat worked. The angry words were right there, ready to detonate.
I didn't give him the chance. I turned and pulled the door open.
The lawyers, the police, and several company shareholders were already standing in the hallway.
"You shouldn't be thinking about how to swindle me right now, Dominic."
"You should be thinking about how you're going to explain to them how you hollowed out the company to bankroll a new venture with your little mistress."
