Chương 9
Jasmine looked at him.
“That was the issue.”
She turned toward Aaron.
“Victor Hale was trying to convince certain shareholders that the company needed stronger external oversight.”
Aaron’s expression darkened.
“Victor?”
“Yes.”
The room became uncomfortable.
Because now the problem was no longer a wife, a secretary, and a personal argument.
It was business.
Money.
Control.
“Aaron,” I said quietly.
He looked at me.
For once, he did not look defensive.
He looked lost.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately to be calculated.
I believed him.
That realization hurt.
Because believing him meant there were still pieces of the old Aaron.
Pieces I had spent months trying to bury.
Jasmine continued.
“I was asked to observe internal operations.”
Aaron turned toward her.
“Asked by who?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation told everyone more than an answer would have.
“By investors.”
“Which investors?”
She looked down.
“I can’t disclose that.”
Daniel laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the situation had become ridiculous.
“You are an executive assistant.”
Jasmine looked at him.
“I was.”
The room went quiet.
“What does that mean?” Aaron asked.
She took a breath.
“I resigned this morning.”
Aaron stared at her.
“You resigned?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her expression changed.
A small crack appeared.
Something human.
Something almost sad.
“Because I realized I was being used too.”
Nobody expected that.
Including me.
She looked at Aaron.
“I thought I was helping build something.”
Her voice lowered.
“Then I realized some people were only interested in taking it.”
For a moment, I forgot everything I hated about her.
Because I recognized that look.
The look of someone realizing they had trusted the wrong person.
The meeting continued for another hour.
Documents were reviewed.
Questions were asked.
Answers created more questions.
No one left with a simple conclusion.
That was the reality.
The truth was not a single dramatic moment.
It was a collection of uncomfortable facts.
By the end, the board agreed to an independent investigation into the attempted restructuring.
Not because they trusted me.
Not because they trusted Jasmine.
Because nobody in that room trusted the situation anymore.
As people left, Aaron remained seated.
I gathered my documents.
“Alyssa.”
I stopped.
He looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry.”
I waited.
Not because I wanted an apology.
Because I wanted to know what kind it was.
“I’m sorry for the plane.”
I nodded slowly.
He looked disappointed.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I believe you’re sorry about the plane.”
His face fell slightly.
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
I picked up my bag.
“It isn’t.”
I walked toward the door.
“Alyssa.”
I stopped again.
“I never wanted you to feel invisible.”
I looked back.
The old version of me would have wanted those words years earlier.
The current version of me only heard what was missing.
“You didn’t make me invisible, Aaron.”
He waited.
“You just got comfortable when I disappeared.”
Then I left.
Outside the building, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice responded.
“Mrs. Prescott.”
I knew immediately.
Victor Hale.
“I think we need to discuss your husband’s company.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Why would I discuss anything with you?”
A quiet laugh.
“Because you’re the only person in this situation who still understands what Prescott Technologies is actually worth.”
I looked back at the glass building.
Thousands of people worked inside.
Thousands of lives connected to one company.
“You’re wrong,” I said.
“About what?”
“I understand exactly what it’s worth.”
A pause.
“And?”
I stepped away from the entrance.
“And that’s why you’re not getting it.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
Then Victor said, “You sound very confident for someone whose marriage just collapsed.”
I looked at the building in front of me.
The glass reflected the afternoon sun.
Years ago, I had stood outside that same building beside Aaron after the company signed its first major partnership.
He had grabbed my hand and whispered, “We did it.”
Not I.
Not me.
We.
That word had meant everything.
Now it felt like a memory from someone else’s life.
“You’re confusing confidence with experience,” I said.
Victor laughed quietly.
“You really are your father’s daughter.”
I almost ended the call.
Then he said something that stopped me.
“Your husband never told you about the final agreement, did he?”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What agreement?”
“Interesting.”
His tone changed.
“You knew about the money, the patents, the early funding.”
A pause.
“But you didn’t know about the promise he made after that.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“What promise?”
Victor did not answer immediately.
He wanted the silence.
People like him always did.
They believed information was power.
Sometimes they were right.
Sometimes they forgot that people could become stronger after losing everything.
“I think you should ask Aaron.”
The call ended.
I stood there for several seconds.
Then I walked back inside.
Not because Victor told me to.
Because I needed the answer from Aaron.
That distinction mattered.
I found him in his office.
The same office where I had once spent countless evenings waiting while he finished meetings.
The same office where he had once kept a photograph of us beside his computer.
The photograph was gone.
I noticed.
I hated that I noticed.
Aaron looked up when I entered.
“Did something happen?”
I closed the door.
“What agreement did you make?”
His expression changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
That was enough.
“What did Victor tell you?”
I stared at him.
“So there is something.”
He stood.
“Alyssa.”
“No.”
My voice was calm.
“I am tired of finding out pieces of my own life from other people.”
He looked away.
That hurt more than anger would have.
“What was it?”
Aaron sat down slowly.
For the first time in years, he looked smaller in that chair.
“When the company was close to collapsing…”
I waited.
May you like
He rubbed his hands together.
A habit from the old days.
