EX-WIFE, IT WAS YOUR LOSS NOT MINE

CHAPTER 4.

Mr. Jordan sat motionless at the head of the table, his chair tilted back slightly, fingers interlaced across his chest.

The room was hushed as the meeting had finally come to an end after an hour of talk. His calm expression revealed nothing, though his mind turned over every word that had been said.

Across from him, Mr. Wellington adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate precision before leaning in, his voice steady but uncompromising.

“Mr Jordan, this better be your team’s own work. I don’t deal with scandals, and I won’t let my money get tied up in anything shady. If I find out otherwise, I’ll cut funding and make sure you answer for every loss.”

“Mr. Jordan gave a leisurely, assured smile, one that came easily after years of closing deals.

“You have my word, Wellington. The idea came from me, and I stand behind it. There will be no problems.’”

“Good. I will trust your word for now.” The two men rose, shook hands firmly, and exchanged the final pleasantries of men who measured one another carefully.

Mr. Wellington turned to leave. As he stepped out toward the elevators, the doors slid open.

A man brushed past him quickly, muttering a brief apology.

The encounter was fleeting, but it froze Wellington in his tracks. The man’s face, the line of his jaw, the set of his brow — it was unsettlingly familiar.

His chest tightened, the polished floor beneath him suddenly unsteady. Could it be his missing son? The thought hit him like a blow.

He almost turned back, almost followed, but his assistant hurried up beside him with her tablet.

“Sir, your next meeting starts in five minutes. We should get going.”

He gave a stiff nod, forcing his feet to move, but by the time he reached his car, the weight pressing inside him was unbearable.

He slipped into the back seat, reaching into his suit pocket for the worn photograph he carried everywhere. The small boy in the picture, with eyes full of innocence, was the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

No amount of wealth, influence, or victory in boardrooms had ever been able to fill the emptiness that had consumed him since the day that boy disappeared.

He closed his eyes briefly, the photograph pressed to his chest as if he could keep his son closer that way. He pulled out his phone and dialed. The line connected quickly.

“Have you found anything new?” His voice was rough, heavy with a desperation he tried to hide.

On the other end, the private investigator answered with calm professionalism.

“We’re still working, sir. We’ve uploaded the childhood photo to missing persons databases and are cross-checking reports across states. Leads take time, but we’ll find him.”

Mr. Wellington’s hand tightened around the photograph.

“Spare no expense. Hire more people, search further. I don’t care what it costs — just find him.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll press on.”

When the call ended, Wellington leaned back against the leather seat, his heart a storm of hope and grief. He was a man who controlled everything around him — but this one wound, this one loss, was beyond his reach.

*

Meanwhile, in his office, Mr. Jordan was still riding the quiet satisfaction of the morning’s success when the door crashed open.

Jayden stormed in, rage burning in his eyes, a folder clenched so tightly in his fist that the edges were bent. He strode to the desk and slammed the papers down, the sound cracking through the room.

Mr. Jordan flinched at the sudden intrusion, then straightened, his brow tightening. “What the hell is this?”

Jayden’s voice came steady, but every word was laced with fury. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what this is. You stole my company idea and blueprint I had shared with you, went behind my back, and registered it as yours.”

Mr. Jordan narrowed his eyes, feigning calm. “And you think you can barge into my office to throw such accusatory words at me? Do you have evidence?”

Jayden shoved the papers closer, his tone dropping, firm and cutting. “I have the proof. The registration, and the blueprints—every detail is mine. You stole it, Jordan. But I’m not letting you walk away with it.”

Mr. Jordan leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Big words, Jayden. What are you planning to do—deliver me some dramatic speech and hope I crumble?”

“I’ll take this to court if I have to,” Jayden snapped.

His voice rose with conviction. “You won’t scare me into silence. This isn’t just about my plans—it’s about every lie you’ve built your empire on. I’ll bring it all crashing down.”

A short, mocking laugh slipped from Jordan as he reached into his drawer. He pulled out a checkbook, scribbled across a page, and ripped the slip free. With a flick of his wrist, he slid it across the desk.

“Here. More than enough to buy you a fresh start. Take it—and disappear.”

Jayden didn’t even look at the paper. His chest burned, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Is that all I am to you? A problem you can pay to vanish? I’m not for sale, Jordan. And my company sure as hell isn’t either.”

For the first time, Jordan’s smile faltered. The confidence in his eyes wavered as Jayden stepped closer, lowering his voice until every word hit like a knife.

“Give me back my company by morning. If you don’t, I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what you did.”

The silence stretched heavy between them. Then Jayden snatched up his folder and turned for the door. It slammed shut behind him, the echo leaving Jordan alone at his desk, his pulse spiking for reasons he refused to admit.

Mr. Jordan sat frozen, the weight of the threat pressing heavily on his chest. He could still hear Wellington’s warning from earlier that day — any scandal, and the deal was over.

Grabbing his phone, Jordan dialed quickly. His voice dropped, low and sharp.

“Emily, we have a problem. Jayden found out about the blueprint we stole, and he’s threatening to take it to court.”

Her sharp intake of breath came through the line. “What? How did he find out?”

“I don’t know,” Jordan muttered, frustration edging his voice. “I thought he’d dropped it once I refused to fund him. But he showed up in my office today, waving evidence in my face.”

Emily’s reply was calm at first, but there was steel beneath every word. “I warned you this might happen. Don’t worry — I’ll take care of it. He won’t get the chance to cause trouble.”

Mr. Jordan’s hand tightened around the phone. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she replied smoothly. “Trust me. Jayden has no idea what I’m capable of.”

The line went dead, and Jordan slowly lowered his phone, the weight of Jayden’s threat still pressing on him.

His composure had cracked, and for a moment, all he could feel was the icy panic of losing the deal. He closed his eyes, thinking of the brilliant, ruthless mind on the other end of the line.

A slow smile spread across his lips. He had faith in her. Emily would handle this. Jayden had no idea what she was capable of.