Chapter 11: CRUMBLING
Dominic
By the following week, everything had fallen.
Without the CEO title, my professional network evaporated overnight. People who once scrambled to return my calls now let them ring out. Business associates who swore loyalty suddenly had "scheduling conflicts."
The apartment — the one I'd shared with Ciara — felt like a mausoleum. Her ghost was everywhere. The kitchen where she'd hum while cooking. The reading corner where she'd curl up with her books. The hallway where I'd sometimes pause, watching her from behind, wanting to reach out but never brave enough.
I couldn't stay there. So I moved into a hotel. Cheaper than I would have ever tolerated before. But my savings were draining fast — without the CEO salary, without the company perks, I was burning through money like paper.
On Wednesday, I got a call from my former COO.
"Dom. You need to see this."
"See what?"
"The board just announced the new interim CEO of Ashford Enterprises."
My stomach dropped. "Who?"
"She didn't appoint someone external. She's taking it herself. Ciara Harrison is now acting CEO of Ashford Enterprises."
I closed my eyes.
My company. The one I built from a failing startup in my studio apartment. The one I named after my family. It now belonged entirely to the woman I discarded.
And the worst part? I couldn't even blame her.
"There's more," my COO continued. "She's restructuring the entire company. New vision statement. New product roadmap. And the stock? Up twenty-three percent since her appointment was announced."
Twenty-three percent. In days. Something I hadn't managed in a year.
"Dom? You there?"
"Yeah." My voice was hollow. "Thanks for letting me know."
I hung up and pulled up the news. Every article featured her — Ciara at the helm of *my* company, looking like she was born for it. Because she was. She always had been.
Meanwhile, what was I?
A man with an empty apartment, a drained bank account, and the ghost of a marriage I destroyed.
Thursday morning, I made a decision. I wasn't going to beg. I wasn't going to stalk her at restaurants. I was going to *earn* it — earn the right to even stand in her presence again.
I opened my laptop and started from zero.
A new business plan. A new concept. Something small, humble — nothing like the empire I once had. But something real. Something built on honesty instead of pride.
It would take months. Maybe years.
But if there was even a fraction of a chance that Ciara might one day look at me and not see the man who broke her — I would do whatever it took.
Even if she never took me back.
Even if she chose Lucas Grant.
Even if I had to love her from a distance for the rest of my life.
I started typing.
By the following week, everything had fallen.
Without the CEO title, my professional network evaporated overnight. People who once scrambled to return my calls now let them ring out. Business associates who swore loyalty suddenly had "scheduling conflicts."
The apartment — the one I'd shared with Ciara — felt like a mausoleum. Her ghost was everywhere. The kitchen where she'd hum while cooking. The reading corner where she'd curl up with her books. The hallway where I'd sometimes pause, watching her from behind, wanting to reach out but never brave enough.
I couldn't stay there. So I moved into a hotel. Cheaper than I would have ever tolerated before. But my savings were draining fast — without the CEO salary, without the company perks, I was burning through money like paper.
On Wednesday, I got a call from my former COO.
"Dom. You need to see this."
"See what?"
"The board just announced the new interim CEO of Ashford Enterprises."
My stomach dropped. "Who?"
"She didn't appoint someone external. She's taking it herself. Ciara Harrison is now acting CEO of Ashford Enterprises."
I closed my eyes.
My company. The one I built from a failing startup in my studio apartment. The one I named after my family. It now belonged entirely to the woman I discarded.
And the worst part? I couldn't even blame her.
"There's more," my COO continued. "She's restructuring the entire company. New vision statement. New product roadmap. And the stock? Up twenty-three percent since her appointment was announced."
Twenty-three percent. In days. Something I hadn't managed in a year.
"Dom? You there?"
"Yeah." My voice was hollow. "Thanks for letting me know."
I hung up and pulled up the news. Every article featured her — Ciara at the helm of *my* company, looking like she was born for it. Because she was. She always had been.
Meanwhile, what was I?
A man with an empty apartment, a drained bank account, and the ghost of a marriage I destroyed.
Thursday morning, I made a decision. I wasn't going to beg. I wasn't going to stalk her at restaurants. I was going to *earn* it — earn the right to even stand in her presence again.
I opened my laptop and started from zero.
A new business plan. A new concept. Something small, humble — nothing like the empire I once had. But something real. Something built on honesty instead of pride.
It would take months. Maybe years.
But if there was even a fraction of a chance that Ciara might one day look at me and not see the man who broke her — I would do whatever it took.
Even if she never took me back.
Even if she chose Lucas Grant.
Even if I had to love her from a distance for the rest of my life.
I started typing.