Chapter 7 - The Reckoning in Madison Park
The rain had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle by the time Marcus’s black town car pulled up outside the apartment building in Madison Park.
He sat in the back seat for ten minutes, staring out the window at the brick facade where Jessica was currently packing her designer clothes into cheap plastic garbage bags because the lease had been terminated and her credit cards had been declined.
When Marcus finally stepped out of the car, the wind whipped his trench coat around his legs.
He walked up the stone steps, pushed open the front door of the building, and took the elevator to the third floor.
The door to apartment 304 was wide open.
Inside, the nursery that Catherine Sterling had meticulously designed with French linens and silver stars looked like a tornado had hit it. Boxes were stacked haphazardly. Suitcases were open on the floor.
Jessica stood by the crib, her swollen belly pressing against a plain cotton maternity shirt, crying hysterically as she shoved baby clothes into a duffel bag.
“Marcus!” she gasped, turning around, her face blotchy and tear-stained. “Marcus, thank God! You have to do something! Your mother’s phone is disconnected, my credit cards are blocked, and some man from the moving company is downstairs threatening to throw our things out on the sidewalk!”
Marcus stood in the doorway, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.
He didn't rush to her. He didn't wrap his arms around her and promise to fix it, the way he used to do when things got hard.
He just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
For months, he had told himself that Jessica was an escape—a breath of fresh air away from the heavy, corporate expectations of his marriage to Elena. But standing here now, in a sterile apartment filled with cheap plastic bins and the bitter smell of failure, he realized what he had actually thrown away.
He had traded a queen for a reflection in a puddle.
“Marcus?” Jessica’s voice wavered, a sudden spike of panic piercing her tone. “Why are you looking at me like that? Tell me you’re going to fix this. Tell me we’re getting a house.”
“There is no house, Jessica,” Marcus said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.
“What do you mean, there’s no house? You’re a billionaire! You run Sterling Global!”
“I don't run anything anymore,” Marcus said quietly. “Elena owns the company. My mother has been forced into retirement. And I am currently facing a choice between signing divorce papers or going to federal prison for embezzlement.”
Jessica stopped breathing. The baby clothes in her hands slipped from her fingers, fluttering down onto the hardwood floor.
“Prison?” she whispered.
“We’re done, Jessica,” Marcus said, turning toward the door. “You and I. This was never love. It was a mistake. A very, very expensive mistake.”
“Wait!” Jessica screamed, stumbling forward, grabbing his coat sleeve. “What about the baby? What about our son? You can't just leave us here with nothing!”
Marcus gently but firmly peeled her fingers off his coat sleeve.
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“My mother promised you financial security, Jessica,” Marcus said without looking back. “Take it up with her. She’s currently packing her own office.”
He walked out of the apartment, down the hallway, and into the elevator, leaving the sound of her frantic, terrified sobbing echoing behind him in the empty halls.
