From Ruin, He found me.

Chapter3:PoisonPill.

Elrissa's POV

Jayden didn’t flinch or look panicked.

Instead, a slow, sickening smile crept across his face. This wasn't the look of a man whose marriage was ending; he looked like the winner in a game I had no idea we were playing.

"Destroy me?" Jayden asked, a chillingly calm chuckle escaped his lips as he stepped on the shattered glass towards me.

"And what are you going to destroy me with, Elrissa? Your shares?" he asked, mockery filling his voice.

I held my ground, my hands still curled into fists. "Remember it was my father’s wealth that strengthened the weak foundation of this company, Jayden, and just in case you're forgetting, I own a whopping fifty percent of McMahon Enterprises. So, as you have decided to pull the plug on this marriage, I will have the board convene by tomorrow morning and strip you of your title, your office, and every dime you think you own."

Jayden let out a soft sigh, shaking his head with mock pity.

He walked over to his overturned desk chair, flipped it upright, and sat down. He didn't even bother with his unbuttoned shirt or the stench of semen and alcohol that filled the room.

He reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a sleek silver pen, and tapped it against the wood.

"God! Elrissa… You always did have your father's arrogance and honestly, getting to see it from you, pisses me off every single time." he said softly.

He reached down into the mess of papers on the floor and began sorting through the documents until he pulled out a thick leather folder and tossed it onto the center of the desk

"Open it," he commanded. "Go to page twenty-four. Section C."

My heart did a sudden, violent flip. I walked over, my heels crunching on glass and ripped the folder open. I recognized the document instantly, it was our prenuptial agreement, the one he had his lawyers prepare five years ago, the one he told me was just a standard formality to protect my father’s remaining assets after the tragedy.

My eyes stumbled down the page, to the bold subheading:

Marital Dissolution and Hostile Corporate Action.

"There you are… read it aloud, darling. Let's see if your voice shakes," Jayden laughed, leaning back as he laced his fingers together.

I read the text, the legal jargon began turning into a physical weight that crushed the air out of my lungs.

In the event that the First Party initiates divorce proceedings, or makes hostile attempts at restructuring the Board of Directors without unanimous executive consent, forty-five percent of the First Party’s shares shall immediately be liquidated at a fixed nominal value of $1.00 per share and transferred directly to the McMahon Corporate Treasury.

"No," I whispered, the paper trembling in my hands. "This… How did I miss this? It's… this is a trap."

"Trap?" He scoffed. “No, sweetheart. It's a poison pill." Jayden corrected, his voice stabbing through my heart.

"So whatever you want to do, whether you want to file for a divorce, or vote me out tomorrow, I'd really love to see you try because either way, you'll trigger that clause and your fifty percent stake instantly shrinks to a worthless five percent. You won't just be losing the company, you'll lose your fortune and destroy your father's lifelong legacy with your own hands."

He stood up, walked around the desk until he was standing just inches from me, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, completely unfazed by the hatred burning in my eyes.

"So go ahead," he whispered, a ruthless, victorious glint in his eyes. "File the papers. Scream to the board and tell them I'm f*****g Tricia. But remember... the moment you try to ruin me, you bankrupt yourself and I'll go any length to make sure of that… even if it means making sure you end up in a body bag like that father of yours."

I looked at the bleeding lip of the man, the anger in my chest turned ice-cold. Slowly, I tilted my head meeting his arrogant gaze as a cold, hollow smile widened my face.

You're right, Jayden," I whispered, stepping so close I could smell the expensive whiskey on his breath. "I can't destroy you in the boardroom."I reached up, gently patting the cheek I had bruised, my fingers tracing the red mark.

"But the boardroom isn't the only place a man can lose his life," I murmured, my voice a soft, terrifying promise. "First, it was my father being pushed down from a high rise, and the police called it a mystery even when it was clearly a murder scene.

Now, let's see how many mysteries McMahon Enterprises can survive."I dropped my hand, gave him one final, chilling look that promised him hell before walking out into the dark hallway, leaving him standing alone in the wreckage of his office.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°.

As the doors slid open on the ground level, I could still hear the distant sounds of clinking champagne glasses drifting down the corridor. I was in no mood to see anybody, the only thing I needed was to get to the parking garage, strip off this ruined gown and find a place to think.

I kept my eyes glued to the floor, my posture rigid as I walked down to the side exit of the exhibition hall and with my mind entirely numb, I turned into the sharp corner…

Oof.

I slammed into a solid, unyielding chest, the impact sending a painful jolt of pain through my tired body, the ripped fabric of my dress wrapped around my ankles caused me to lose my balance and I braced myself for the hard impact of the marble floor.

But it never came.

"Careful," a deep, baritone voice rumbled above me while his large powerful hand clamped firmly around my waist with effortless strength.

"S-sorry..." I mumbled, as I was too drained to even form a proper apology.

I didn't wait for a response nor did I care to know who he was. I just brushed past him and kept marching toward the heavy glass doors leading to the VIP valet circle. I kept my head down, refusing to look back or let anyone see the absolute wreckage Jayden had made of my life.

The cool night air hit my face, shocking my system. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I hurried down the concrete steps toward the driveway, my mind racing with a million different ways to make Jayden pay.

Shhrrriippp….

The sharp tug at my waist stopped me in my tracks. I gasped as I looked down. The jagged tear in my dress had caught violently on the sharp edge of a wrought-iron decorative planter on the steps.

I stared at the fabric clinging to the iron, then back up at the glass doors of the skyscraper. Through the glass, the man I had just bumped into was walking out with his hands casually shoved into his pockets.

He was tall, with a sharp jawline and dark hair that was perfectly styled away from his forehead. His midnight-black tuxedo screamed luxury, but it was his eyes that caught me. They were a pair of deep, icy blue that seemed to pierce through me.

I didn't know him, but the elite crowd outside recognized him instantly.

Oh my God! Isn't that Darian?

Shit, he's so hot!

Those eyes of his, so beautiful.

The voices of the ladies drooling over him like high-school girls burned through my ears.

Apparently, I had just bumped into the enigmatic, ruthless multi-billionaire tycoon, Darian Visconti, the one whose power alone overshadowed my husband's empire and if I stopped to untangle my sash, I would have to face him, maybe answer his questions or become an object of his pity or scrutiny.

Never.

I grabbed the remaining fabric of my dress with one desperate tug, yanked it free from the planter before running down the remaining steps. I threw myself into the back of an idling taxi, slamming the door shut.

"Drive," I said to the chauffeur, my voice cracking. "Please, just drive."

As the car pulled into the rainy streets, I looked through the rear window.

Standing under the glowing canopy of McMahon Enterprises was Darian Visconti, he didn't follow me. Instead, he stepped over to the wrought-iron planter and reached down, his large hand untangling the torn emerald silk sash from the metal.

He held the fabric up, his thumb tracing the custom silver and pearl crest my father had made just for me.

Through the rain, I watched him fold the fabric neatly before sliding it into the breast pocket of his jacket. His icy eyes remained fixed on the retreating taillights of my taxi, like a silent promise to find the woman who had left a piece of her armor behind.