Chapter2
1680 Words
Nathan Pov
The files landed on the table in front of me with a thud, and I raised my head to look into the eyes of a man who looked like he was about to kill me.
"I hear this arrived at your house yesterday?" he asks, sinking into the seat opposite mine and crossing his right ankle over his left knee.
With a soft sigh, I pick up the file and open it, flipping through its contents even though I already know what it is. I had seen it at home the day it arrived, but I honestly couldn't be bothered back then.
I'm still not bothered now, but I know better than to give my father a sarcastic reply.
'Your wife asked for a divorce. And the news is on every front page of this newspaper being sold right now."
I lace my fingers in front of me, placing my elbows on my table.
"It sounds to me like you're more upset about her going to the press or the world knowing about this than you are about us actually getting divorced."
Dad slams his hand down on the table, glaring at me. Arnold Ashford did not spare any prisoners. As the patriarch of the third generation of the Ashford dynasty, my father had successfully managed Pexels, the family company, into what it currently is.
Despite his ripe age of seventy, he vehemently refused to retire but decided instead to work behind the scenes for the good of the company.
I was groomed to be a CEO from birth. I had always known taking over Pexels was my birthright, even though at the time I had never wanted it. The older you get, the wiser you become.
After studying in Italy and frolicking around Europe, one phone call from my dad was all it took for me to return to the States. Two months later, I was married to one of the prettiest women in this part of the world.
And here I was, a year later, being served divorce papers by my beautiful wife, Irene Ashford, formerly Irene Crew.
"Do you care to tell me why your wife wants to divorce you?" Dad asks calmly.
I could tell him the truth. I could tell him about our incessant fights and silent treatments that went on for weeks. I could tell him about how Irene has done nothing but complain about how busy I am for her and how she has threatened to divorce me before, and this was the only time she'd ever gone through with it.
But I don't, because I know my father could be a blabbermouth sometimes, and one of the things Irene and I made up our minds about after she told me she wanted a divorce was to not wash our dirty linens in public, especially to the press of New Orleans, who were always itching for a story. We had plans to part ways as amicably as possible. I hadn't even tried to convince her to not go ahead with the divorce.
The Crews were old family friends. My union with Irene might have seemed political, but it was just a way to unite our families. A divorce would put a strain on that family friendship, and the benefits we enjoy in business from the Crews family are as good as gone if I go through with this divorce.
"We were never compatible from the start, Dad, and you know it."
"Did you marry based on compatibility or love, Nathan?"
"Love," I chuckle sarcastically and scoff, leaning back in my seat.
My dad is shooting daggers at me with his eyes, seeing the lacklustre attitude I'm successfully putting on about discussing what he considers to be a matter of grave importance, like he loves to say.
"If I wanted to marry for love, Irene Crew wouldn't be the first girl that would come to mind," I tell him, smirking proudly.
"You don't know what you're saying, Nathan..."
"As a matter of fact," I begin, leaning forward on my desk and locking eyes with him. "I'm done doing your bidding. I want to live life on my terms now, and Irene just did me a massive favor by calling off our marriage because I'm still too chicken to have done it."
"Don't use that tone on me, young man," Dad warns.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I apologize, raising my hands.
"Your marriage fell apart because of your own selfish reasons, Nathan. To the best of my knowledge, you and Irene made a beautiful and perfect couple. From what she says, you love your job more than you do her."
"Shouldn't that make you glad? The fact that I'm choosing what you once called 'my purpose in life' over some woman?"
"You need to get this sorted, Nathan. You can't only be a successful businessman. Like it or not, you need a wife too."
"I could get another wife," I shrug
"Are you seeing anybody else that we don't know about?"
I smirk. That's my beloved father - more concerned about his family's reputation than about Irene who he's been acting he cares about all day long.
"No, and I don't want to, Dad. If Irene leaves, I'm focusing on the company. We're really making headway with some groundbreaking research these days that could help us have branches in some parts of the world, not just the United States. I can't be home feeding some woman pasta and watching her make kissy faces when my work needs me."
"When did you become this workaholic?"
I pick up a pen and start writing something on a notepad.
"You showed me the ropes. Why are you complaining?" I reply smugly.
"I was still a good father to you and your sisters and a good husband to your mother."
"Yeah, right," I snort.
I still remember Mom making excuses for Dad at the dinner table, time and time again.
At least I had the decency to call Irene beforehand and tell her I wouldn't be home on time for dinner. Dad never did any such thing.
In fact, he would call Mom and make a fuss about what we were eating, so she'd get things ready and then call when we'd been at the table for more than thirty minutes and act like he was disappointed he couldn't make it.
He rises from his chair and smooths the creases that had formed on his shirt as he sat.
"Fix this, Nathan," he says with all seriousness. "I don't want to know how. Call Irene and call off this charade."
"You do realize I plan to sign the papers, right?"
"This is a decision you'll regret. Don't do it, Nathan."
"I regret a lot of decisions that I've made in my life. What's one more to add?" I chuckle.
My father's face grows red with anger, and he storms out of my office.
I return my attention to my computer, reading through the emails my assistant sent my way and typing replies to important ones when I hear the door open again.
I raise my eyes to look without moving my head, and I grin widely when I see my best friend, George, striding in.
"I guess you're here to tell me how I'll regret my decision of letting Irene divorce me too?" I say, spinning away from the computer as he plops down into the chair my father was in a few minutes ago.
He raises his brows until they almost reach his hairline.
"You and Irene are getting divorced?"
I roll my eyes at him. "Of course. Trust you to always get to hear information super late."
"Man, I shouldn't say it, but, that's good news!"
I can't help but chuckle at what my imagination has just conjured up that would happen if my father were here to hear George say this.
"That woman always gave me the creeps," he continues.
"She was actually a nice lady when we first met. I may have turned her creepy," I own up.
"Oh, please. You were barely around. She's creepy on her own. No help needed from you for that."
I nod and stare out my window, tapping my fingers on my desk. I'm about to get divorced, and it feels like it's just dawning on me now that Irene and I have been meeting lawyers for over a week now.
"I'm assuming you signed a prenup?" George asks.
"Yeah, I did. Despite her coming from an equally wealthy family, I sort of knew the marriage wouldn't last, and I didn't want to take chances."
"Dude," George rises from his seat in excitement. "You're a free man now. You should be celebrating, not sulking."
"Oh, if only my father could hear you."
"Forget him. He's got enough grandkids already between your sisters."
"But not from his 'heir', you see," I say, making air quotes with my fingers. "I'm not even sure how to be a father. It's a good thing Irene and I never had any kids."
"We're going out tonight to celebrate this milestone, Nathan. Whether you like it or not."
"I've got some work that..." I begin, turning back to the computer.
As I'm scrolling around with my mouse, the screen goes black right in front of me.
"Hey!" I exclaim, looking up to see George holding the plug. "I was working."
"Working destroyed your marriage. I won't let it ruin your life."
"It's not ruining my life."
"Get up. I'm taking you home. We're gonna toast and celebrate this. Then hit the clubs later tonight. I know about this exclusive place downtown. Went there last weekend. It's pretty elite"
"George, I'm really not interested in..."
Before I can complete my sentence, George grabs my WiFi router and briefcase and starts making my way out of my office.
"I'm gonna tell your assistant you're done for the day. You can't answer any emails if you've got no Internet after all."
I groan as I sink into my chair.
I guess I'm going clubbing tonight after all.
- Writer
