Chapter 3 - The Tables Turn
By Wednesday, the news had hit the business journals. “Holloway Empire Teeters on the Brink.”
Grant was a frantic man. He had been locked out of his own building, his security clearance revoked. He spent his time in the back of his car, screaming into his phone, demanding answers from lawyers who were now ignoring his calls. The mistress, Clara, had already vanished the moment his credit cards were declined at a luxury boutique.
I was finally able to sit up on my own. My strength was returning, fed by the sweet nectar of retribution. Ms. Gable came into the room with a look of awe.
"Mr. Holloway is in the lobby," she said softly. "He’s demanding to see you."
"Send him up," I said. "But inform security he is to be searched. I don't want any surprises."
When Grant entered, he looked like a shadow of the man he had been in the hallway. His suit was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot. He had been stripped of his arrogance.
"Elena," he started, his voice cracking. "What did you do? You’ve destroyed everything. My accounts, my reputation—my board is voting to remove me tomorrow!"
I leaned back against the pillows, my gaze steady. "I didn't destroy anything, Grant. I just stopped propping you up. You signed the papers, remember? You said, 'I am no longer her husband.' You wanted to be free of me. Consider this the price of your freedom."
"The children," he stammered, stepping toward the bed. "I need the custody petition dropped. If I have the kids, I have the leverage. I can fix this."
I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "You abandoned those children the moment you walked out of this hospital to go to your mistress. You don't have leverage, Grant. You have a bankruptcy hearing in forty-eight hours."
He paled. "You knew? About everything?"
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"I know that you never loved me," I said, my voice quiet but dangerous. "You loved the access I provided. And now, the door is locked."
He looked at me, realizing for the first time that the woman before him was not the person he thought he had discarded. She was the architect of his demise.
