The Husband They Threw Away Runs This Town Now

CHAPTER 4 — Back from the Dead

After breakfast, Erick waited until the last car disappeared down the driveway before slipping out of the Laurent residence. He couldn't risk any of the servants noticing he was gone.

A black sedan idled in the alley behind the building. The rear window rolled down. Ivan looked the same, except sharper around the eyes. The old scar on his left hand hadn’t changed

Eight years as his head of security, and the man still had the same scar cutting across the back of his left hand. They rarely spoke outside of missions, but Ivan had never failed to show up when called.

Erick climbed into the back seat. The car pulled away before he'd even closed the door.

Erick got in. The car sped off before his door fully closed.  

"You look like trash," Ivan said in Russian.  

"English only," Erick said.  

Ivan smirked. "Five years playing house servant, and this is what's left? Getting bitched at by maids?"

Ivan lit a cigarette. "I know about the baby. Aria told me. Sorry, Boss."  

Erick's jaw flexed. "Don't."

Ivan nodded. "Okay. Won't mention it again."  

A few minutes later, Erick's phone buzzed. A message from Dominique:

[Vanessa's divorce party tonight. Martin will attend despite your behavior. Try acting like an adult for one evening. I am tired of cleaning up your messes.]

Erick set the phone down.  

He stared at the Gerard Dominion building in the distance. Five years ago, "Quade" was a name people feared. 

Now, the world moved on like Quade never existed.  

The car stopped at a red light. His new phone buzzed.  

Unknown number: 

[EMERGENCY BOARD MEETING BY ORDER OF QUADE. ]

Another message:

[ VICTOR HALE WILL ANNOUNCE QUADE'S DEATH TODAY]

. Erick's grip tightened. "In that case... I'm done hiding."

***

Ivan parked in the underground garage, wiping grease off his hands.   "I'll wait here."  

"Get upstairs."  

"Boss, it's boring as hell up there."  

"You're coming. I need backup."  

Ivan snorted. "Fine. But if I break someone's jaw, it's coming out of your paycheck."  

Erick entered the lobby wearing a frayed black windbreaker, faded T-shirt, and worn-out jeans. His sneakers had long lost their white color.

“Sir?” The receptionist (Clara, according to her name tag) looked him up and down. “This area is for authorized personnel only.”

“Board meeting,” Erick said, still walking.

She blinked, then gave a disbelieving laugh. “I’m sorry… who are you?”

Security moved in quickly. A large guard grabbed Erick’s arm. “You need to leave, buddy.”

Before Erick could react, Ivan was beside him. “Get your hand off him.”

The lobby went quiet. People stared. Clara’s expression shifted as she typed rapidly on her computer.

By then, people were staring. Someone muttered something about calling the police. Another joked that a homeless guy had wandered in looking for free coffee.

The elevator dinged, and every assistant on the floor froze mid-movement.

"Miss Aria..." Clara started.

"Is this how we treat major shareholders now?" Aria's voice was calm but carried. "This man is the founder and CEO. Show some respect."

The guard immediately let go. The whispering stopped.

Aria looked Erick over, her face unreadable to everyone else. Only he noticed the slight tightness in her jaw.

In the elevator, Aria stared straight ahead.

“You could have warned me,” she said.

“And miss the show downstairs?” Erick replied.

She exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh. “Five years later and you’re still difficult.”

They rode up in silence for a few floors.

“You’ve been letting them walk all over you,” she said quietly.

Erick didn’t answer. There would be time for that conversation later.

When the doors opened on the executive floor, assistants froze mid-step. A tablet nearly slipped from someone's hands.

Victor Hale was stepping out of the boardroom, laughing until he saw Erick. The laugh died instantly.

Erick walked straight past him and purposely slammed his shoulder into Victor's. The man stumbled hard into the wall. Erick didn't even glance back.

He pushed open the boardroom doors.

Eight heads turned at once.

Victor's chair — Erick's chair — sat empty at the head of the table.

Erick walked slowly across the room, his shoes leaving faint traces of dirt on the polished floor. Erick walked to the head of the table, pulled out the chairman’s chair, and sat down.

The room went completely silent.

“Victor won’t be joining us,” he said. “We’ll start without him.”

Michael, one of the original board members, looked like he might choke. “Quade?”

Erick leaned back. “Still alive, Mike.”

He scanned the faces around the table slowly. Many of them had known him when they were eating instant noodles in a freezing garage almost a decade years ago.

“First order,” he continued. “Victor Hale is suspended, effective immediately.”

No one spoke.

Michael swallowed. "There are procedures..."

Erick tossed his phone onto the table. "Second: someone sent me condolences on my death this morning. I'll be finding out who."

He let the silence stretch, then gave a small, cold smile. "Bad news, gentlemen. Quade isn't dead."

He casually pulled the thick, leather-bound financial report toward him and flipped open the first page. The cold smile instantly faded from his face as his eyes locked onto the active acquisition data.

His eyes narrowed. [LAURENT CORP - EMERGENCY CAPITAL INJECTION: $200,000,000 APPROVED BY V. HALE.]

Erick tapped his finger against the paper, his voice dropping into a register that promised absolute ruin. "Interesting... It seems my company is being used to bail out a family of thieves."