The Husband They Threw Away Runs This Town Now

CHAPTER 7 — Turning the Tables

Vanessa was now sitting on the sofa, head in her hands, still cursing under her breath. The party around them continued, but their corner had gone strangely quiet.

Erick’s gaze moved toward the back of the lounge. Michel was gripping the arm of the young blonde girl, whispering something to her. She looked uncomfortable.

Erick walked over casually and sat down beside her on the sofa. Up close, she looked even younger.

“How old are you?” he asked softly.

She hesitated. “…Twenty.”

Erick didn’t believe her. He kept his voice low. “How much did Michel offer you?”

Her eyes widened. She glanced toward Michel, then back at Erick.

“He said it was just pictures,” she whispered. “Nothing else.”

Erick pulled out a few folded hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and slipped them under her bag without drawing attention.

“In two minutes, go out through the kitchen. Don’t use the main elevator. Tell him I was too aggressive and you got scared.”

The girl stared at him, uncertain.

“It’s the safest story for you,” Erick said. “Use it.”

She gave a small nod.

Three minutes later, she slipped away through the staff corridor. Michel didn’t notice.

Dominique was waiting for him near the windows overlooking the city, arms tightly crossed.

“Are you happy now?” she asked when he approached.

Erick stopped a few feet away. “Was this your idea?”

“No.” She sounded tired. “But I didn’t stop it either.”

“That’s the problem.”

Dominique turned to face him fully. “You always manage to embarrass me, Erick. Every single time.”

He looked at her for a long moment.

“You stood there and watched,” he said quietly.

Her jaw tightened. “You think you’re better than all of this now?”

Erick gave a small, humorless smile.

“I want a divorce,” she said suddenly.

He nodded. “Okay.”

The speed of his answer seemed to throw her. “You’re actually agreeing?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m done.”

For the first time in a long while, something like real surprise — maybe even hurt — flickered across Dominique’s face. But it disappeared quickly.

“You won’t survive without this family,” she said coldly.

Erick didn’t reply.

Michel stormed over, furious. “Where the hell is she? What did you say to that girl?”

Erick looked at him calmly. “She left. Said she didn’t feel safe.”

Michel’s face turned red. He took a step forward, but Martin grabbed his shoulder.

“Not here,” Martin muttered.

Erick adjusted his shirt cuffs. “I’m going home.”

As he walked toward the elevator, Dominique called after him.

“Where are you going?”

“Sleep,” he answered without turning around.

The elevator doors closed. Only then did Erick let his shoulders drop. He leaned against the mirrored wall and closed his eyes for a moment.

His phone vibrated.

Aria: [Victor called an emergency board meeting. Word about tonight is already spreading.]

Erick typed back with one hand.

[Let it spread.]

***

Erick woke to the sound of pipes rattling behind the wall. He sat up on the old couch in the storage room, rubbing his stiff neck. The same clothes from last night still smelled faintly of whiskey and Vanessa’s perfume.

He stared at the two photos taped to the wall. One of his father, Lawrence Gerard, smiling in a rare unguarded moment. The other of Jacqueline — his ex-fiancée — with her sharp eyes and long black hair. He’d walked away from her without explanation five years ago. Sometimes he still wondered if that had been necessary.

His laptop on the corner desk showed live data feeds. Victor’s movements. Laurent Corporation’s financials. Everything was lining up.

The phone buzzed. Marcus.

“Quade,” the board member whispered, clearly nervous. “We have the votes. Victor’s emergency loan to the Laurents is dead if we pull the trigger.”

“Good,” Erick said. “Don’t tell him. Let him walk into tonight’s gala thinking he still controls everything.”

Marcus hesitated. “He’s bringing a media crew. They’re planning to announce your death publicly to stabilize the stock.”

Erick gave a small, dry smile. “Let them. I want to see who sends flowers.”