Chương 8
Protect the dream of someone who no longer knew who helped create it.
But maybe that was the difference between me and Victor.
He saw companies as trophies.
Aaron saw them as proof.
I saw them as people.
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
From Jasmine.
For several seconds, I did not open it.
Then I did.
There was no apology.
No explanation.
Only a sentence.
You should ask Aaron why he never told you about the board vote.
My heart stopped.
I read it again.
Board vote.
I looked at Daniel.
“What vote?”
His expression changed.
“What?”
I turned the phone toward him.
For the first time all day, Daniel looked genuinely concerned.
“That’s not in any of the documents.”
“Why?”
“Because if there was a vote involving control or ownership, we would have seen it.”
I stared at the message.
Jasmine knew something we did not.
And she wanted me to know she knew.
Daniel picked up his phone.
“I’ll start digging.”
I stood by the window.
Below us, the city lights turned on one by one.
The same city where Aaron had built his empire.
The same city where I had quietly protected it.
I had thought the biggest betrayal was that my husband chose another woman’s comfort over mine.
I was beginning to understand something worse.
The seat on the plane had never been the real battle.
It had only been the place where the battle became visible.
The next morning, I arrived at Prescott Technologies headquarters before most of the employees.
That alone felt strange.
For years, I had entered through the private entrance beside Aaron’s office.
I had walked through those doors carrying coffee, contracts, birthday gifts for employees, and sometimes food because I knew nobody on his executive team remembered to eat during major launches.
That morning, I walked through the front entrance.
The receptionist looked up.
Her smile appeared automatically.
Then it disappeared when she saw my expression.
“Mrs. Prescott.”
I nodded.
“Good morning, Claire.”
She glanced around nervously.
Everyone knew something was happening.
They just did not know what.
That was the strange thing about companies.
Information moved faster than official announcements.
A person could lose a position before the paperwork existed.
A rumor could damage a reputation before anyone knew if it was true.
I understood why Aaron cared so much about perception.
I also understood why he had spent years controlling the story.
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped inside alone.
For a moment, I saw my reflection in the polished metal.
I looked tired.
Not broken.
Just tired.
There was a difference.
When the doors opened on the executive floor, Daniel was already waiting.
“You slept?”
“A little.”
“That means no.”
I gave him a small smile.
“You’re becoming annoyingly familiar.”
“I’ve been working with your family for ten years.”
“And yet somehow you still haven’t learned not to criticize me before coffee.”
He handed me a cup.
“Already handled.”
I looked at it.
Black coffee.
No sugar.
The way I drank it when I was focused.
A small thing.
A normal thing.
But it reminded me that not every person in my life had forgotten who I was.
The conference room was almost full.
Board members.
Legal representatives.
Financial officers.
People who had spent years avoiding conflict because conflict was expensive.
Aaron was not there yet.
That surprised me.
He was always early to important meetings.
Then again, maybe he had spent the night trying to understand what was happening.
Or trying to stop it.
Both were possible.
At nine exactly, the doors opened.
Aaron walked in.
Everyone became quiet.
He looked at me first.
Not the board.
Not Daniel.
Me.
There was something different in his expression.
Not confidence.
Not anger.
Fear.
I hated that I noticed.
Because some part of me still cared.
He took the seat across from me.
The same distance we had created in our marriage.
Only now there was a table between us.
The chairman of the board cleared his throat.
“We are here to review concerns regarding historical company funding arrangements and recent questions regarding outside influence.”
The words were careful.
Corporate language.
Nobody said betrayal.
Nobody said marriage.
Nobody said Jasmine.
They did not have to.
Everyone knew.
Aaron looked at me.
“Is this what you wanted?”
The question was quiet.
But everyone heard it.
I looked back at him.
“No.”
That seemed to surprise him.
“Then why are we here?”
“Because the truth was going to arrive eventually.”
His jaw tightened.
Before he could respond, the door opened again.
Jasmine walked in.
Nobody invited her.
That was the first problem.
The second was that she looked completely calm.
She carried a tablet.
A folder.
A coffee.
Like she was arriving for a normal workday.
“Aaron,” she said.
Her voice was softer than usual.
Almost comforting.
That bothered me more than if she had looked arrogant.
Because people who wanted power rarely looked like villains.
They looked helpful.
“I thought you needed these.”
Aaron stared at her.
“What are you doing here?”
She paused.
For the first time, I saw uncertainty.
Only for a second.
Then it disappeared.
“I’m helping.”
The chairman looked irritated.
“Ms. Vale, this meeting is restricted.”
“I understand.”
She placed the folder down.
“But I believe the information inside affects everyone here.”
Nobody moved.
Aaron looked at the folder.
“What information?”
Jasmine glanced at me.
Then back at him.
“About the board vote.”
The room changed.
Not dramatically.
Not like movies.
Real rooms do not freeze.
People shift.
People exchange looks.
People quietly calculate.
That was what happened.
Daniel leaned forward.
“What board vote?”
Jasmine looked surprised.
Not much.
Just enough.
“You don’t know?”
I watched Aaron’s face.
He looked genuinely confused.
That was important.
Because confusion could be performed.
But panic was harder to fake.
“Explain,” Aaron said.
Jasmine opened the folder.
“There was a proposed restructuring vote six months ago.”
The chairman frowned.
May you like
“I was not aware of any finalized restructuring.”
“It was not finalized.”
