Chapter 6 - The Ultimatum
The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse apartment, turning the view of Lake Washington into a smear of gray watercolor.
Marcus sat at the kitchen island where my father had sat two days before.
He looked small. The bespoke Brioni suit he wore now looked like a costume draped over a man who had lost his identity.
I stood by the kitchen counter, packing a small overnight bag.
“Where are you going?” Marcus asked, his voice cracking. He didn't look up from his hands.
“I’m moving back to my father’s estate in Medina for the remainder of my pregnancy,” I said evenly, zipping the canvas duffel bag closed.
Marcus looked up then, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “Elena... please. We can talk about this. We can go to counseling. We can fix our family. What about our baby? What about our daughter? You can't just take her away from me.”
I stopped packing and turned to look at him.
A cold, heavy calm settled over my chest.
“You didn't care about our daughter when you were spending your nights in Madison Park with Jessica,” I said quietly. “You didn't care about our family when you let your mother treat my life like a corporate merger.”
“I was stupid!” Marcus shouted, slamming his palm against the marble counter. “Men make mistakes, Elena! Power does things to people—you don't understand the pressure I was under—”
“Don't talk to me about pressure,” I cut him off, my voice dropping into a register that made him recoil. “I carried your child for seven months while you lied to my face. I sat on a nursery floor crying over a medical chart while you were playing house with another woman. Don't ever talk to me about pressure.”
He slumped back against the stool, defeated.
“What about Jessica?” he whispered. “And the... the boy?”
“That is your problem, Marcus,” I said, grabbing the handle of my duffel bag. “You made that bed with your mother’s blessing. You can figure out how to lie in it. My father’s lawyers have already drawn up the divorce papers. Uncontested. You sign them, you hand over full physical and legal custody of our daughter to me, and in exchange, my father’s legal team will agree not to pursue criminal charges against you for corporate embezzlement of subsidiary funds.”
Marcus went completely white. “Embezzlement?”
“Did you really think your mother was the only one who audited your accounts?” I smiled faintly. “You skimmed four hundred thousand dollars from the European logistics expansion last year to fund Jessica’s apartment lease and her luxury car. I have the wire transfers, Marcus. Signed by you.”
He stared at me as if he were looking at a ghost.
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“You’re ruthless,” he whispered.
“No, Marcus,” I said, walking toward the private elevator. “I’m just finally using my head.”
