Chapter 7
Nathan didn't give up.
Three days after I blocked his number, he appeared in the lobby of Graves Tower. Security stopped him at the front desk. The footage later showed him arguing with the guards for twenty minutes, his voice rising until other tenants turned to stare.
I watched it on the security feed from my office, Margaret standing at my shoulder.
"Shall I have him removed?" she asked.
"Let him up."
She blinked. "Miss Graves—"
"I want to hear what he has to say." I closed my laptop. "One time. Then it's done."
Five minutes later, Nathan stood in my office doorway.
He looked diminished. The confidence that had once drawn me to him—that clean, entitled certainty—had eroded. His suit was slightly rumpled. The skin beneath his eyes was shadowed.
"Elena." He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the office: the harbor view, the modern art on the walls, the quiet machinery of wealth surrounding me. "You... You look well."
"What do you want, Nathan?"
He flinched at my tone. Then he gathered himself and walked closer.
"I made a mistake." He kept his voice low, controlled—the voice he used in boardrooms when he wanted to sound reasonable. "A terrible mistake. I was manipulated. Sophia fed me lies for years, and I was too blind to see it."
He reached for my hand. I pulled it away before he could touch me.
"I still love you," he said. The words came out practiced, polished. "I never stopped. I was confused. She got inside my head—"
"Stop."
He stopped.
I stood and walked to the window, putting distance between us. The city stretched below, indifferent to the drama unfolding sixty floors up.
"Nathan, you didn't come here because you love me." I turned to face him. "You came because Carter Group is dying, and you think that if you win me back, you'll win my family's resources."
"That's not—"
"Your stock is down 40 percent. Harrington just secured the port contract you were counting on. Your mother's been calling every society connection she has, trying to find someone who'll extend you a credit line." I held his gaze. "Don't insult me by calling it love."
His face tightened. The mask of contrition slipped, just for a moment, and I saw what lay beneath: desperation. Calculation. The same cold math his mother ran.
"Fine," he said, his voice harder now. "Fine. Then let's talk business. We were married for three years. You owe this family—"
"I owe you nothing." My voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "I signed away every asset. I fulfilled every legal obligation. Our marriage is dissolved. There is nothing between us."
"If you license that technology to us instead of Harrington—"
"Get out."
He stared at me. Something ugly moved behind his eyes.
"You'll regret this," he said quietly. "You think you're untouchable now, but you're not. Everyone has weaknesses, Elena."
"Is that a threat?"
He seemed to realize what he'd said. He stepped back, rearranging his features into something more palatable.
"I'm just saying... think about it. That's all."
He turned and walked out. His footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, growing fainter until the elevator swallowed them.
I looked at Margaret, who had been standing by the door throughout.
"Increase security detail," I said. "And keep an eye on Sophia Mills."
"You think she'll make a move?"
"Cornered animals always do."
---
Three days after I blocked his number, he appeared in the lobby of Graves Tower. Security stopped him at the front desk. The footage later showed him arguing with the guards for twenty minutes, his voice rising until other tenants turned to stare.
I watched it on the security feed from my office, Margaret standing at my shoulder.
"Shall I have him removed?" she asked.
"Let him up."
She blinked. "Miss Graves—"
"I want to hear what he has to say." I closed my laptop. "One time. Then it's done."
Five minutes later, Nathan stood in my office doorway.
He looked diminished. The confidence that had once drawn me to him—that clean, entitled certainty—had eroded. His suit was slightly rumpled. The skin beneath his eyes was shadowed.
"Elena." He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the office: the harbor view, the modern art on the walls, the quiet machinery of wealth surrounding me. "You... You look well."
"What do you want, Nathan?"
He flinched at my tone. Then he gathered himself and walked closer.
"I made a mistake." He kept his voice low, controlled—the voice he used in boardrooms when he wanted to sound reasonable. "A terrible mistake. I was manipulated. Sophia fed me lies for years, and I was too blind to see it."
He reached for my hand. I pulled it away before he could touch me.
"I still love you," he said. The words came out practiced, polished. "I never stopped. I was confused. She got inside my head—"
"Stop."
He stopped.
I stood and walked to the window, putting distance between us. The city stretched below, indifferent to the drama unfolding sixty floors up.
"Nathan, you didn't come here because you love me." I turned to face him. "You came because Carter Group is dying, and you think that if you win me back, you'll win my family's resources."
"That's not—"
"Your stock is down 40 percent. Harrington just secured the port contract you were counting on. Your mother's been calling every society connection she has, trying to find someone who'll extend you a credit line." I held his gaze. "Don't insult me by calling it love."
His face tightened. The mask of contrition slipped, just for a moment, and I saw what lay beneath: desperation. Calculation. The same cold math his mother ran.
"Fine," he said, his voice harder now. "Fine. Then let's talk business. We were married for three years. You owe this family—"
"I owe you nothing." My voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "I signed away every asset. I fulfilled every legal obligation. Our marriage is dissolved. There is nothing between us."
"If you license that technology to us instead of Harrington—"
"Get out."
He stared at me. Something ugly moved behind his eyes.
"You'll regret this," he said quietly. "You think you're untouchable now, but you're not. Everyone has weaknesses, Elena."
"Is that a threat?"
He seemed to realize what he'd said. He stepped back, rearranging his features into something more palatable.
"I'm just saying... think about it. That's all."
He turned and walked out. His footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, growing fainter until the elevator swallowed them.
I looked at Margaret, who had been standing by the door throughout.
"Increase security detail," I said. "And keep an eye on Sophia Mills."
"You think she'll make a move?"
"Cornered animals always do."
---