Too late, ex wife. From Janitor to Tycoon

Chapter Five

The car rolled smoothly into the Devanchi Corporation’s driveway just as Sam’s phone started buzzing insistently in his pocket. He glanced down and saw Vanessa’s name flashing on the screen—his now ex-wife. What could she possibly want from me now? he thought, a frown knitting his brow. His stomach tightened, a mix of irritation and dread settling in.

“Your phone is ringing,” Susan said calmly, her sharp eyes following the motion of his hand toward the device. There was a quiet authority in her voice, the kind that made it clear she noticed everything.

“I’ll get it later. Let’s talk about what you want first,” Sam replied, keeping his tone even. He hated that his pulse was quickening, hated that Vanessa still had this effect on him, even after everything.

“Be patient, Mr. Blackwood,” Susan said smoothly, gesturing toward the building ahead. “My office is right there. We can talk about everything once we get in.” There was no trace of impatience in her voice, only calm confidence that made Sam both wary and curious.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Worry had a way of creeping in when he least expected it, but he forced himself to remain patient. The car hummed along the last stretch of driveway in near silence. His thoughts kept drifting back to Vanessa—the accusations, the anger, the memories of every confrontation that had led to this moment.

When they arrived at the entrance, Sam couldn’t help but pause. The building was impressive, a towering structure of steel and glass, reflecting the late afternoon sun in glinting streaks. Even in the midst of his anxiety, he appreciated the aesthetic, the deliberate precision of every line and corner.

“This is… beautiful,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Before Susan could respond, his phone rang again, sharp and insistent. Sam groaned inwardly.

“The caller must want something important,” Susan remarked lightly. “You can take your call. When you’re done, my secretary will escort you in.”

Sam nodded and offered a faint, polite smile before excusing himself, stepping slightly aside to answer the call.

“Hello… Vanessa?” His voice was cautious, controlled. He wasn’t sure what she wanted this time, and the thought of facing another outburst made his stomach churn.

“Sam! Why did you hurt my mother? I said I didn’t want you anymore! I even gave you money as compensation, and now you almost killed her! And the hospital bills—do you even understand the emotional trauma you’ve caused?” Her voice was sharp, raw, and relentless, each word laced with anger, hurt, and accusation.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. Here we go again, he thought. Her words struck at him like arrows, each one digging into old wounds he’d tried to ignore.

“What did I ever do to you? Isn’t a million dollars enough?” she continued, not giving him room. She kept ranting, pouring out every grievance she could muster, leaving him no chance to respond.

Finally, she paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Are you there? Are you even listening? Or have you decided to stay mute, as usual?”

Sam’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists in his lap. The familiar sting of her accusations was suffocating. “I’m done with your drama, Vanessa. I didn’t take your money, and I didn’t hurt your mother. Like always, believe what you want,” he said, his voice low, calm but edged with finality.

There was a brief silence on the other end, broken only by the faint sound of her breathing. Then, almost bitterly, he added, “After all… I was never good enough for you, was I?”

And just like that, he ended the call. The line went dead, leaving only the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional shuffle of papers from the car’s dashboard.

A stunned silence must have followed on the other end. Vanessa’s voice cracked as she muttered, “Sam… how dare you say something like that? What’s wrong with you?” But there was no response; he had already hung up.

Lisa, who had been nearby, noticed the tension in Vanessa’s face and stepped closer, concern evident in her eyes. “What happened?” she asked softly, unsure whether she was interrupting or intruding.

“he… he hung up,can you imagine that” Vanessa blurted out, her voice trembling slightly, a mix of frustration, disbelief, and hurt woven through every word. Her hands fisted in her lap as if trying to hold herself together, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

Sam finally turned off his phone, sliding it neatly into his pocket. He felt a strange mixture of relief and irritation—relief at ending the call, irritation at the way it always dragged up old wounds he had worked so hard to close. He looked at Susan secretary, who had been waiting patiently, her expression calm, unreadable, as though nothing could rattle her.

“Shall we?” he asked, taking a deep breath. There was a tightness in his chest, a subtle pull of anticipation and anxiety. Whatever awaited him in that office, he knew it would be significant.

She offered him a small, professional nod. “Right this way, Mr. Blackwood,” she said, leading him through the entrance. Sam followed, his steps deliberate but cautious. Every sense was heightened—the polished floors, the cool scent of the lobby, the faint hum of activity from the offices around them. It all combined to make his pulse quicken, a mixture of curiosity, unease, and cautious optimism tugging at him.