Morning sunlight spilled over the skyline, catching on the edge of Petrina’s desk, turning the paperwork into gold.
From here, she could see the whole city, her city, moving beneath her success. But lately, even that view couldn’t settle her anymore. Emails stacked up in her inbox. Board reports, investor messages, another reminder from her father about the upcoming gala. Everything she touched felt heavier these days. She rubbed her temples and leaned back in her chair, exhaling. A knock came at the door. “Come in.” Brian Stone stepped inside, casual but polished, gray suit, open collar, that same confident air he carried back in college when he’d first made her laugh. He smiled like they were old friends. “Madam CEO,” he teased lightly, holding up two coffees. “Still taking yours without sugar?” She allowed a small smile. “You remember.” “I make a habit of remembering the important things.” He crossed the room, placing the cup in front of her. She noticed he still wore that same watch she once gave him, years ago, before he’d left. She ignored the twinge that stirred in her chest. “Let’s get to it,” she said, gesturing at the documents on her desk. “I read your proposal for the new logistics partnership. It’s strong, but the figures on page six don’t match the export data.” “Ah, that,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Those numbers were placeholders. I’ll fix them before we send them to Rothwell Industries.” Petrina nodded, flipping through the pages. “You’ve still got that charm for making things sound easy.” He chuckled. “And you’ve still got that intensity that scares half your team.” She gave him a look that almost broke into a laugh, almost. “I prefer to call it focus.” “Well…..I call it magnetic,” he said quietly. Their eyes met for a moment too long before she cleared her throat and looked away. “Let’s stay on task, Brian.” He nodded, leaning back. “Of course. Though…..I didn’t just come to talk business.” That made her glance up again. “No?” He hesitated, as if debating whether to say what he came for. “You didn’t get my text last night?” He asked. “Oh, I haven’t checked my phone yet. What’s this about?” She reached for her phone on her desk. He stopped her mid reach, then he reached into his briefcase and set down a manila folder. “What’s that?” “I think you should see it.” Something in his tone made her stomach tighten. She opened the folder and froze. Inside were photographs, Derick sitting in a café with a woman she didn’t recognize. Another of them entered a hotel lobby. A bank statement showing transfers between unfamiliar accounts. Petrina’s throat went dry. “What is this?” “Evidence,” Brian said quietly. “Of what your loving husband’s been doing.” He spat. She looked up, confused and defensive all at once. “Derick? No. He—he’s not like that.” Brian sighed, tone soft but heavy with fake regret. “I wish it weren’t true. But this woman, Lily, I think her name is, works closely with him. I did some digging when I heard rumors. The transactions trace back to accounts linked with your company.” She shook her head, flipping through the pages. Her hands trembled slightly. The dates matched nights when Derick had come home late. “He told me he was working overtime,” she whispered. Brian leaned forward. “He’s been using Reed Innovations’ money, Petrina. You’ve built something incredible, and he’s stealing from you. I didn’t want to believe it either.” She pushed the folder away like it burned. “Why would he do this? After everything—” “Because he resents you,” Brian said simply. “He’s never matched your success. You’re the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company, and he’s still a mid-level worker. That kind of man doesn’t handle that well.” Her jaw tightened. “You think he’s jealous of me?” “I think he’s tired of being reminded he doesn’t measure up, and he never will.” The words sank in deeper than she wanted to admit. She’d felt it sometimes, that quiet distance in Derick’s eyes when people called her the breadwinner, the real achiever. She looked down again at the photos. “She’s…..pretty.” Brian watched her closely. “I’m sorry, Petrina. You don’t deserve this.” Silence stretched between them. The clock ticked softly. Finally, she said, “Maybe I should’ve seen it coming. My father warned me years ago. He said marrying below my class would end like this.” Brian leaned forward gently, voice smooth. “He wasn’t wrong. Men like Derick don’t understand women like you. You build, they take. You lead, they resent. You shine, and it blinds them.” Her chest tightened. Anger, hurt, humiliation, all twisting together. “I’ve spent years defending him, Brian. Years! And this is how he thanks me? By cheating on me?!” “Trusting someone shouldn’t be a punishment for you Petrina.” Brian said, voice dropping in lies and deceit. She exhales, head already a mess from the endless workload she had to handle. “What am I going to do now?…..” Brian opened his briefcase again and slid another set of papers toward her. “You don’t have to keep defending him.” She stared at the documents, legal pages, her name and Derick’s printed across the top. Divorce papers. “You already had these prepared?” she asked softly. He faked hesitation, just enough to seem sincere. “Only because I hoped you wouldn’t need them. But…..I thought, if this day ever came, you should be ready.” Her hands hovered above the papers. “Divorce…” The word felt heavy. Brian’s tone was almost kind. “You deserve a partner who’s on your level, Petrina. Someone who adds to your life….not drains it. You’ve built too much to have it ruined by a man who doesn’t even appreciate you.” She looked up, eyes glassy but cold. “He made me believe he did.” “He fooled you,” Brian said. “He fooled everyone. But you can still take control.” She sat back, staring out at the skyline. Her reflection in the glass looked composed, but her eyes told another story. She thought of Derick’s quiet smile that morning, his calm voice when she rushed out. He’d said nothing wrong, and yet every image in that folder made him look guilty. “I should have known,” she whispered. “I should’ve known he’d do this. Maybe he was never proud of me. Maybe he hated that I succeeded without him.” Brian stood slowly and walked around the desk. He stopped beside her, lowering his voice. “You don’t owe him loyalty, Petrina. Not after this. The longer you wait, the harder it gets to protect what’s yours.” She looked at the divorce papers again. “You really think I should do it?” “I think you already know you should,” he said. The silence stretched again. Then, she picked up a pen, spinning it between her fingers without signing anything yet. Her voice came out quiet but firm. “I gave him everything, Brian. Seven years. Trust. Support. And he made me look like a fool.” Brian nodded, hiding his rising satisfaction. “Then don’t give him another chance to do it again.” By the time Brian left her office, the folder lay open across her desk. The photos, the forged receipts, the papers, all of it staring back like proof carved in ink. Petrina sat in that silence for a long time. Outside her window, the city moved as if nothing had changed. But inside, something in her had cracked. She reached for her phone, scrolling through her messages until she found Derick’s name. Her thumb hovered over it. Then she locked the screen and set the phone aside. “Not tonight,” she whispered to herself. “He doesn’t deserve that.” The pen still lay beside the divorce papers. She picked it up, pressing her thumb along its edge. Her hand didn’t shake anymore. Somewhere in a beat up Toyota parked a few blocks away from Reed innovations, a very satisfied and excited Brian Stone, sat in his car, plotting his next phase to steal Reed innovations from Petrina.Latest Chapter
Chapter 167: Cut The Link With Kendi!!!
Bypassing Mayfair, the engine noise from the African scrubland cut out for a second, replaced by the hollow, metallic groan of a chassis being twisted to its absolute limit. In the quiet cab of the saloon, the sound was intimate, almost suffocating."She's bottoming out," Jackson whispered. His eyes remained locked on the telemetry. "The terrain profile doesn't match the satellite imagery Westbrook submitted to the high court. They logged this entire quadrant as a desertification zone.""Because dry land carries no ecological indemnity," Derick said. He guided the silver saloon into the shadow of the Palace of Westminster. The gothic spires looked black against the bruising sky. "If there’s no water on the books, there's no crime in poisoning it with the runoff from the gold tailings. It’s perfect corporate arithmetic."On the dashboard console, Kendi’s voice returned, tighter now, punctuated by the sharp crack of an overstressed leaf spring."Derick? If you're receiving this, the loc
Chapter 166: Bypassing Mayfair
The rain on Grosvenor Square had turned into a fine, isotropic mist by the time the silver saloon cleared the security barrier, its tires spitting grit against the brickwork of the embassy lane. Derick kept the headlights dipped. London was waking up in fragments—milk floats, the first red double-deckers grinding toward Marble Arch, and the pale, sodium glow of streetlamps reflecting off windows that had been dark since the Blitz. Beside him, Jackson didn't move. The laptop screen was a pale blue mask across his face, throwing the hollows of his cheeks into sharp relief. His thumbs remained hooked over the chassis, frozen in the posture of a man who had spent three hours defusing a bomb only to realize he was still holding the detonator. "The London mirror just dropped six packets," Jackson said. His voice was flat, drained of the adrenaline that had carried them through the basement descent. "Some kind of deep-packet inspection. It’s not the compliance committee. It’s too fast for
Chapter 165: The Public Server
The wet asphalt of Grosvenor Square dissolved behind them as Jackson stepped into the waiting elevator, his fingers already hammering at the glass screen of his tablet. The lift hummed, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the brass handrails as they began their descent toward the underground parking level."The regional office in Mombasa just flagged Vance’s credentials," Jackson said, his eyes reflecting the sharp blue glare of the interface. "The automated system picked up the concurrent login from London. We have exactly four minutes before the security protocol locks the session and forces a manual override.""Then don't format the text from scratch," Derick said, his voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the elevator. "Pull the pre-cached Markdown files from the staging server. Strip the metadata, bypass the regional translation layer, and dump the raw Appendix C directly into the root directory. If the ministries want to read it, they can use Google Translate.""That le
Chapter 164: Mombasa
Jackson’s fingers flew across the tablet screen, the blue light casting sharp, angular shadows over his face. "The upload protocol requires three separate administrative keys, Derick. I have mine, and you have yours. But we need a proxy signature from the regional operations office in Mombasa to bypass the standard forty-eight-hour quarantine.""Use Vance’s credentials," Derick said without turning from the window. Below, a black Mercedes sedan slid smoothly away from the curb, its taillights bleeding red streaks across the wet asphalt. Westbrook’s exit. "He left his token active on the secure subnet when he rushed out. He was too busy hiding his pen to clear his cache.""That’s a compliance violation. If the board audits the keystrokes—""If we don't have the text on the public server by midnight, there won't be a board left to audit us," Derick interrupted. His voice was level, stripped of the adrenaline that usually followed a boardroom coup. He reached into his pocket, his fingers
Chapter 163: Grosvenor Square
The door of the boardroom clicked closed with a heavy, pressurized sigh that seemed to vacuum the remaining oxygen from the room. Westbrook was the first out, his briefcase gripped so tightly his knuckles showed white through his artificial tan. Vance trailed him like a shadow detached from its owner, still frantically pocketing his pen.Derick remained in his chair, his hands flat against the cool, ancient oak of the shipyard table. The room emptied in ripples until only he, Jackson, and Haraldsen remained. The Chairman was slow in his movements now, the sudden authority he had wielded during the roll call dissolving back into the tired posture of an aging bureaucrat.With a deliberate, mechanical precision, Haraldsen reached into his breast pocket. He did not pull out a phone or a pair of spectacles. Instead, he withdrew a small, tarnished silver object and set it gently on the brass plate where his gavel had rested moments before.It was an antique water meter key, its T-bar worn s
Chapter 162: The Noon Division
The street outside the Connaught felt like a cold slate wiped clean by the drizzle. Derick walked fast, his coat unbuttoned, letting the damp London air cut through the lingering heat of the dining room. Jackson kept half a pace behind him, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the wet pavement of Carlos Place."Westbrook’s going to whip the second-tier directors," Jackson said, his voice low as they rounded the corner toward Grosvenor Square. "He’s already calling Henderson and Vance. If he loses Haraldsen on the audit trigger, he’ll try to choke the funding at the committee stage.""Let him call them," Derick said. "Henderson moves with the tide. Vance moves with Henderson. If Haraldsen votes to publish, the center holds.""And if Haraldsen’s nod was just courtesy?" Jackson asked. "He’s a statistician, Derick. He likes the weight of an argument, but he lives in the shadow of the regulatory board. He knows exactly how much noise an extraordinary audit makes."Derick stopped at the
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