“Is that the story you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” she asked, her voice steady and sharp.
Kimberly let out a shrill laugh that echoed off the high ceilings.
“Oh, please, just sign the papers already because the Nasdaq doesn’t pause for failed housewives,” she snapped.
Christian knocked his knuckles against the wood to emphasize his point.
“Sign it, Geneva, because today you are officially out of my house, my company, and my life,” he commanded.
She reached into her bag, pulled out a plastic ballpoint pen, and began to sign the documents without a single tremor in her hand.
She flipped through the pages, the scratching of the pen being the only sound in the room for several long seconds.
Christian leaned back with a victorious grin as the lead attorney gathered the folders.
Kimberly reached for her phone, already typing out a message to celebrate their new freedom.
“Good,” a voice boomed from the back of the room, cutting through the atmosphere like a razor. “Now that my daughter is no longer legally shackled to this arrogant fool, I can speak my mind.”
Christian’s brow furrowed in confusion as the man in the shadows stood up.
As the stranger walked into the light, the blood drained from Christian’s face almost instantly.
He realized he was looking at the man who owned the very skyscraper they were sitting in.
This was the silent partner who held the largest hidden stake in SkyGrid Tech and the father of the woman he had just insulted.
Christian tried to stand up, but his knees felt weak and refused to support his weight.
The entire energy of the room shifted as Robert Sterling approached the table with a terrifyingly calm demeanor.
He didn’t wear any flashy jewelry or raise his voice, yet his presence seemed to dwarf everyone else in the room.
He stopped directly behind Geneva and placed a hand on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, finally letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding for years.
“Your daughter?” Christian stammered, looking back and forth between Robert and Geneva. “No, that’s impossible, it doesn’t make any sense.”
Robert looked at him with the same expression one might use to examine a stain on a rug.
“It doesn’t make sense to you because you never bothered to actually know the woman you married,” Robert said. “You were only ever interested in what you thought she could do for your public image.”