Chương 7
Different visions.
Different priorities.
That was the official explanation.
The unofficial explanation was simpler.
Victor wanted control.
My father refused to give it to him.
They separated.
Victor built his own investment group.
My father kept the company.
Neither man ever spoke kindly about the other again.
“Why would Victor meet with Jasmine?” I asked.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
“You knew about him?”
“I knew he had been asking questions.”
My stomach tightened.
“About what?”
“The company.”
“Which company?”
There was a pause.
“Prescott Technologies.”
The answer should not have surprised me.
But it did.
Because Victor did not care about Aaron.
He cared about assets.
Numbers.
Ownership.
Leverage.
He had always believed companies were not built by people.
They were built by opportunities.
“Melissa,” I said, “how long has this been happening?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
Another pause.
“Months.”
I closed my eyes.
Months.
That word carried more weight than any accusation.
Months of Jasmine becoming closer to Aaron.
Months of Aaron becoming distant from me.
Months of me believing I was losing my husband because he had changed.
Maybe I had been watching a much larger move happen right in front of me.
“I need everything,” I said.
“I’ll send what I have.”
“No.”
I looked back at the restaurant where Aaron was still sitting alone.
“I need what you don’t have.”
Melissa was quiet.
“What do you mean?”
“I need to know what Aaron knows.”
The question was no longer whether he had betrayed me.
The question was whether he had been used.
And somehow, that made everything more complicated.
I returned to the office before sunset.
Daniel was still there.
Ethan had left hours earlier after my mother called him and demanded an explanation for why nobody had invited her to the “family emergency meeting.”
That was my mother.
Even during a crisis, she was offended by the seating arrangement.
I walked into the conference room.
Daniel looked up.
“You found something.”
I placed my phone on the table.
He studied the photograph.
His expression changed immediately.
“Victor Hale.”
“You know him?”
“Everyone in corporate law knows him.”
“Why?”
Daniel leaned back.
“Because Victor doesn’t buy companies.”
He tapped the image.
“He buys situations where companies are vulnerable.”
I sat down.
“What does that mean?”
“It means he rarely attacks when a company is strong.”
Daniel opened his laptop.
“He waits until there is internal conflict.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Aaron.
Jasmine.
Victor.
Three people at a table.
One of them thought he was building an empire.
One thought she was creating an opportunity.
One was waiting for the right moment to take advantage.
“How much of Prescott Technologies is mine?” I asked.
Daniel did not answer immediately.
That was enough.
“Daniel.”
“You know the answer.”
“I want to hear it.”
He folded his hands.
“Officially, almost none.”
I nodded.
“And unofficially?”
“Enough that nobody could ignore you if the agreements were reviewed.”
I looked down.
That was the part I had always avoided.
The reason I had hidden my involvement.
Aaron had been obsessed with being seen as self-made.
At first, I understood.
He wanted to prove himself.
Later, I realized something uncomfortable.
He wanted to prove himself without acknowledging the people who helped him.
“He never told anyone,” I whispered.
“No.”
“He let everyone believe I was just there because I married him.”
Daniel did not respond.
He didn’t need to.
The answer was sitting in front of me.
A folder.
A photograph.
A company built on a story that was incomplete.
My phone rang.
This time, I answered immediately.
“Aaron?”
“No.”
I froze.
The voice belonged to my father.
“Dad?”
“I heard about Victor.”
I stood.
“How?”
“Because Victor made the mistake of calling someone who still answers my calls.”
Despite everything, I smiled slightly.
My father had a talent for sounding calm while preparing for war.
“Are you okay?”
It was a strange question.
Not because he asked.
Because nobody had asked me that in a while.
I sat down.
“I don’t know.”
A pause.
Then he said something I did not expect.
“Good.”
I frowned.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“It means you’re finally admitting you don’t have to be strong every second.”
I looked away.
My father had always been difficult.
Demanding.
Stubborn.
The kind of man who believed problems should be solved before they were discussed.
But he had also been the first person who taught me that love did not require surrender.
“I should have listened to you,” I said.
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“You should have listened to yourself.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had confused patience with loyalty.
I had confused sacrifice with love.
“You know what hurts?” I said.
“What?”
“I’m not even angry that he needed help.”
My voice became quieter.
“I’m angry that he made me feel like helping him was something embarrassing.”
My father was silent.
Then he said, “That is the part you need to remember.”
“What?”
“You can forgive someone for failing.”
I waited.
“But do not confuse forgiveness with pretending it did not happen.”
After the call ended, Daniel closed his laptop.
“You have a choice.”
I looked at him.
“About what?”
“About tomorrow.”
I knew what he meant.
The board meeting.
The review.
The documents.
The moment when everything Aaron built would be forced into the light.
“If I go forward,” I said, “it will hurt him.”
“Yes.”
“And the company.”
“Yes.”
“And thousands of employees who had nothing to do with this.”
Daniel nodded.
That was the part nobody online would understand if the story ever became public.
People loved simple villains.
They loved watching powerful people fall.
They rarely thought about everyone standing nearby when someone fell.
“I don’t want to destroy Prescott Technologies,” I said.
“Then don’t.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t?”
“Protect it.”
The idea felt strange.
May you like
Protect the company that had taken my marriage away.
Protect the employees who worked for the man who forgot me.
