Chapter 2 - The Ultimatums
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I stared at the man I had been married to for seven years. My husband’s mistress had just assaulted me in front of the elite of Manhattan, announced her pregnancy, and somehow I was being treated as the hazard.
I looked back at Chloe. Her eyes were glittering with triumph. She had rehearsed this moment. She had visualized my tears, my devastation, my quiet withdrawal into the night.
The realization cut deeper than her physical blow.
When Grant’s father suffered a massive stroke and Mercer Dominion Group nearly collapsed under federal scrutiny seven years ago, I was the one who brought in white-collar attorneys. I was the one who refinanced $400 million in toxic debt, negotiated with hostile European banks, and convinced union pension funds not to pull their capital.
Mercer Dominion had been weeks away from a chapter eleven liquidation. Today, it was valued at over $7 billion. Business magazines regularly put Grant on their covers, hailing him as the brilliant young visionary who saved his family’s legacy. They rarely mentioned that the vision had been built entirely by the woman sitting quietly beside him in every emergency board meeting.
Me.
Chloe touched the diamond necklace at her throat, letting the diamonds catch the light.
“You should probably leave,” she said softly, though her tone was meant to carry. “Tonight is supposed to be a celebration.”
A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. The gala was celebrating Mercer Dominion’s seventy-fifth anniversary. I had organized the event. I had selected the venue, approved the five-course menu, and secured the primary charitable partnership. And now this girl was granting me permission to leave my own ballroom.
“Grant,” I said, keeping my tone deadly quiet. “Did you know she planned to do this?”
His total silence was the only answer I needed.
Chloe stepped forward, narrowing her eyes.
“You’ve been clinging to him because you love the Mercer name,” she whispered loud enough for the nearest three tables to hear clearly. “But he doesn’t want you anymore, Evelyn.”
“Is that true, Grant?” I asked him directly.
Grant rubbed his jaw, refusing to look me in the eye.
“Chloe is pregnant. I need to think about my heir. My child.”
“Your child,” I repeated flatly. “And what about your wife?”
His expression hardened into a cold mask.
“Evelyn, you knew our marriage hasn’t been working for a long time.”
“Fascinating,” I replied. “I didn't realize a marriage stops working the moment you start renting apartments in Soho for twenty-four-year-olds.”
I raised my hand, gently touching my burning cheek.
“You watched her hit me.”
Grant glanced around, suddenly noticing that dozens of guests had pulled out their smartphones and were recording every second.
“She’s emotional,” he snapped.
“So that makes physical assault acceptable to you?”
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“She’s under a tremendous amount of pressure!”
“Of course,” I said, nodding slowly. “How silly of me not to understand.”
