He Divorced Me So I Bought His Company

Chapter 2

The rain falling over Mighatan City was thick and icy, washing the urban soot down the storm drains in gray swirls.

I stood on the marble steps of the Sterling Tower, wearing a thin beige trench coat over the simple hospital garments the nurses had given me. My body felt fragile, every step sending a dull throb through my lower pelvis, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the cold hollow inside my chest.

I had come for two things: my late mother’s platinum wedding band, which I kept in the top drawer of my drafting desk, and my private green notebooks,the handwritten ledgers containing five years of my original engineering formulas.

The uniformed doorman, a man I had greeted with hot coffee every winter morning for three years, blocked my path at the rotating glass doors.

"I am sorry, Miss Davis," he said, his eyes dropping to the marble floor to avoid my gaze. "My orders are clear. Your access card has been removed from the system."

"Peter, please," I said, shivering as a gust of wet wind hit my back. "I lived here until yesterday. I just need five minutes to collect my mother’s ring from my desk. You know who I am."

"I know," he muttered, looking miserable. "But Mr. Sterling’s office called down an hour ago. They said if I let you up the elevator, I am fired."

"Let her up, Peter."

The voice came from the interior lobby intercom. It was high, sweet, and unmistakable.

The automatic glass doors slid open. I stepped into the warm lobby, leaving a trail of water from my cheap shoes on the polished floor. Peter did not meet my eyes as he swiped a master card to unlock the private express elevator to the penthouse.

When the silver doors parted on the seventieth floor, the scent of fresh white lilies and expensive French perfume hit me instantly.

My home,the quiet, functional space where I had lived for three years,was already unrecognizable. The minimalist oak furniture Julian and I had chosen had been pushed aside to make way for ornate velvet sofas and imported Italian mirrors. Dozens of garment bags bearing the names of Parisian luxury boutiques were draped across the chairs.

Standing by the wide glass windows overlooking the city skyline was Elena Vance.

She was wearing my favorite cream-colored silk robe,the one Julian had bought me for my twenty-fifth birthday,and holding a steaming mug of tea in both hands. Her golden hair was pinned up loosely, looking every bit the queen who had just taken her throne.

"You look terrible, Nora," Elena said smoothly, taking a slow sip from the mug. She did not sound angry; she sounded amused. "I heard you had a minor medical emergency last night. You really should be resting."

"Take off my robe," I said, my voice steady despite the shaking in my knees.

Elena glanced down at the silk sleeves, then gave a light, ringing laugh. "Your robe? Nothing in this apartment belongs to you, Nora. It never did. Julian paid for this with his company card." She turned her back to the window and leaned against the glass, eyeing me like a stray cat that had wandered onto a clean rug. "Did you really think he would keep you around once I came back?"

"I was his wife," I said, taking a step into the living room. "I built the company that paid for that robe. While you were painting watercolors in Europe, I was redesigning the foundations of his buildings so his creditors would not seize his assets."

"And you did a wonderful job," Elena said, her smile widening. "Julian told me all about how hard you worked. He said you were the most useful assistant he ever hired. But let us be honest,you are boring, Nora. You wear flat shoes, you smell of pencil lead and coffee, and you do not know how to smile for a camera. Julian needed a workhorse to clean up his father's mess. Now that the firm is ready for the stock market, he needs a wife who shines."

"Where are my things?" I demanded, refusing to let her see me cry. I had cried enough in the hospital bed. "Where is my mother's ring? Where are my green notebooks?"

Elena gestured toward the far corner of the room with her teacup. "Oh, those old notebooks? The ones with all your little diagrams and math problems?"

I turned my head.

Near the kitchen entrance stood two large black trash bags. One of them was split open at the top. I saw the familiar dark green cover of my master design ledger,the book containing the structural equations for the Aether Tower's core load-bearing pillars,drenched in coffee grounds and discarded eggshells.

"No," I choked out, rushing toward the bags. I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor, my hands digging into the wet garbage to rescue the notebooks. "No, you can't do this! These are my original engineering logs! This is my entire professional life!"

"Your life is whatever Julian says it is," Elena said coldly. She walked over and stood above me, her bare feet encased in my velvet slippers. "And Julian said your drafting notes belong to Sterling Enterprises. Consider it a company donation."

I pulled the wet, stained green ledger against my chest, my fingers trembling as I looked up at her. "Where is my mother's wedding ring, Elena?"

Elena reached into the pocket of the silk robe and pulled out a small, worn velvet box. She turned it over in her palm, looking at it with mild distaste. "This little silver thing? It looks like it came from a pawn shop."

"It is platinum," I said, standing up slowly, my legs shaking under me. "Give it to me. It is all I have left of her."

Elena held the box out, dangling it between her thumb and forefinger. But as I reached for it, she opened her fingers and let the box drop.

It clattered against the hardwood floor and slid under the heavy marble console table near the doorway.

"Oops," Elena said, her smile sharp as a razor. "You can crawl for it on your way out."

A red, blinding heat flared behind my eyes. Three years of silence. Three years of swallowing my pride, of eating cold dinners alone while Julian courted investors, of working until my eyes burned so the man I loved could succeed.

I took two steps toward her, my hand raising before I even realized what I was doing.

Smack.

The sound of my palm striking Elena’s cheek echoed through the wide penthouse. Her head snapped to the side, her teacup shattering against the floor and spilling brown liquid across the white rug.

Elena gasped, her hand flying to her reddened face. Her eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed into pure venom.

"Security!" she screamed, her voice turning shrill and ugly. "Security, get up here right now!"

The express elevator doors dinged immediately. Two tall, broad-shouldered private security guards stepped into the lobby, their eyes scanning the broken porcelain and Elena’s flushed face.

"Remove her," Elena ordered, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She attacked me! Throw her trash out into the alley and make sure she never sets foot on Sterling property again!"

"Please," I said to the guards as one of them grabbed my upper arm with a painful grip. "Just let me get my ring from under the table,"

"Move," the guard grunted, dragging me toward the elevator while the second guard grabbed the black trash bags containing my ruined clothes and notebooks.

"Happy wedding, Nora!" Elena called out as the silver doors began to close between us. She was smiling again, touching the red mark on her cheek like it was a trophy. "I will be sure to send you a postcard from Paris after the groundbreaking!"

The doors shut.

Ten minutes later, I was standing on the wet pavement of the rear service alley behind the Sterling Tower. The guard threw the black trash bag onto the asphalt at my feet; it split wider, spilling my wet sketchbooks into the dirty rainwater pooling in the gutter.

"Do not come back, lady," the guard said, the heavy service door slamming shut behind him with a final, echoing thrum of steel.

I stood in the pouring rain, clutching the single stained notebook I had managed to save under my coat. My mother’s ring was gone. My blueprints were gone. My marriage was a lie, and my body was trembling from exhaustion and blood loss.

I looked down at my wet shoes, the icy rain soaking through my hair and running down my neck.

I have nowhere to go.