Chapter 3 - The Strategy Officer
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Seated immediately to Adrian’s right was Sloane Mercer, Helixora’s Chief Strategy Officer.
She was dressed in an impeccably tailored cream-colored suit that projected both sharp authority and effortless wealth. On her wrist glinted a diamond bracelet, the exorbitant cost of which I was intimately aware. Sloane wore a faint, patronizing smile on her lips, her eyes projecting a carefully calculated look of pity—it was the exact expression of an understudy who already knew the script of the play and was eagerly waiting for the final act.
For nearly three years, Adrian had aggressively insisted to me that Sloane was nothing more than a brilliant executive, a vital right hand helping the company prepare for its global expansion. But the truth has a funny way of clawing its way to the surface. Six months ago, I had uncovered the undeniable proof: hotel receipts, intimate messages, and a secondary, hidden smartphone buried deep inside his gym bag. Their affair had been going on long before Adrian coldly asked me for a trial separation.
Sloane elegantly interlaced her fingers, resting them lightly on the polished wood of the table, and looked down at me from her perceived pedestal.
“I understand that this may feel emotional for you,” she said, her voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness that barely concealed its venom.
“But a corporation cannot simply rewrite its history every time a founder’s spouse suddenly feels overlooked.”
Marian Cho, the formidable chair of the board, furrowed her brow slightly as she observed Adrian, but she chose to remain silent.
I looked down at the waiver once more. Attached to the back was a settlement proposal offering me two million dollars, to be paid in installments over ten years. The strict condition was an ironclad non-disclosure agreement ensuring I never publicly suggested I had contributed to Helixora’s creation. Two million dollars. Meanwhile, Adrian’s personal net worth was estimated to be well over one hundred and eighty million. And the company he was desperately trying to sever me from was gearing up for an acquisition that would value it at nearly a billion dollars.
“She is being offered an extraordinarily generous arrangement,” Sloane added, her smile deepening into a smirk.
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“Most dependent spouses would be immensely grateful.”
That specific phrase dropped into the dead silence of the room, landing exactly where she intended it to. Dependent spouse. Not a mechanical engineer. Not a product designer. Not the seed investor. Not the co-founder.
