4

Jason

“Are you that dumb, Jason?” Eleanor screamed. This was the first time I had seen her in a state of disarray. She was always perfect, not a hair out of place. Now, her clothes were damp, and her hair was sticking to her forehead as she paced the marble floor of the foyer. The storm outside was still rattling the glass doors. “She smiled at me! That pathetic little piece of shit smiled right in my face while she walked away! And then those cars—”

“Eleanor, shut up for one second!” I snapped, running a hand through my hair.

“Oh, is it not mother to you anymore?” she retorted. “I suppose if you’re fucking my daughter, that makes it very fucking weird!” she yelled in my face.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “That wasn’t Victoria.” Even I didn’t believe the words as they left my lips. It was a very pathetic attempt at a lie, but I was grasping for straws at this point.

She cackled aloud. “Yes, of course, I wouldn’t recognize my own daughter if I saw her. Maybe you are really dumb!” She raked her fingers through her hair. “But more importantly, that sleazy orphan girl you married had a line-up of expensive cars come pick her up...”

I shut out her irritating voice. My chest was heaving, my tie already torn loose. The image of Jasmine standing in that penthouse doorway, holding her phone with that dead, emotionless stare while Victoria and I scrambled for the sheets, was burned into the back of my head.

“You’re hysterical. It was probably a ride-share. Or some low-rent friend she called to pick her up.”

“A ride-share?!” Eleanor shrieked, her voice cracking with rage. “Six identical, armored black SUVs don’t just happen to roam the streets in a synchronized convoy, Jason! A man stepped out into the pouring rain wearing a suit that costs more than you’re probably gonna earn this month after this whole debacle is over. He bowed to her, and I mean bowed, better than any of these servants here. I know what wealth looks like, and he screamed wealth.” She closed the distance between us and grabbed my chin so I could look directly at her. “He called her Miss Vance!”

“Vance?” I let out a harsh, breathless laugh, pacing the foyer. “There are a million Vances in this country. She’s a penniless nobody from Nowhere, Ohio. She doesn’t have family. She doesn’t have money. She spent three years folding my laundry and taking your petty insults without a single word of complaint. You think she’s some hidden royalty because someone gave her a ride?”

“He bowed to her, Jason! He said the global board of directors was fully assembled!”

“Enough!” I roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. “I don’t care about her cars! Do you have any idea what this scandal has just cost me? The shareholder stream went live across our entire public platform! My phone hasn’t stopped ringing for forty-five minutes!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” she yelled back, her face turning a furious red. “That is my daughter you were caught with on that live video! Her reputation is completely dragged through the mud because of Jasmine’s little stunt! Victoria is ruined, the family name is ruined—”

“I don’t give a damn about Victoria right now!” I screamed, cutting her off completely. My phone was vibrating so hard in my palm that it felt like it was going to explode. The screen lit up with another call from a major shareholder, immediately followed by the chairman of the board. “The directors are calling me! The shareholders are jumping ship! My entire empire is burning to the ground because of that broadcast, and you’re crying about Victoria’s reputation? Get out of my face!”

I shoved past her, ignoring her gasp of pure outrage, and slammed the front door behind me. I didn’t care about the rain. I didn’t care about my mother or Victoria. If Jasmine thought this pathetic little stunt was going to give her leverage in a divorce settlement, she was dead wrong. I was going to the office, and I was going to ruin her.

An hour later, inside the executive office of Sterling Media, the air was tense with panic.

I was pacing the length of the room, my hair completely disheveled. The screen downstairs had finally been turned off, but the corporate slaughter was relentless. My board members were screaming at me simultaneously via the speakerphone on my desk, their voices overlapping in a deafening chorus of blame. Standing near the windows, my public relations team was throwing up their hands in despair and defeat. The digital stock ticker running along the wall was flashing red numbers.

“Just get her on the phone!” I roared, slamming my fist onto the heavy glass desk, shattering the silence of the room. “I don’t care if she’s staying at some trashy motel or walking the streets in the rain. Find Jasmine! She’s the one who started this, and she’s the one who is going to fix it.”

I grabbed my personal cell phone, dialing her old number for the twentieth time. My chest tightened with bitter irritation. I expected it to go straight to voicemail. I expected her to be huddled in some cheap diner, shivering over her wet, soiled suitcase, waiting for me to call so she could beg for forgiveness. And God, I’d make her beg.

This time, the call actually connected.

I gasped, pulling the phone tight to my ear, the anger surging back into my veins. “Jasmine! You lunatic, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You tanked my stock by a lot! My mother told me how you insulted her on the driveway. You are going to sign a non-disclosure agreement tonight, do you hear me? If you ever want to see a single dime of a divorce settlement—”

“Mr. Sterling,” a cold, unfamiliar male voice cut in. It wasn’t Jasmine. The tone was completely flat, sounding almost like a robot.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as my anger ground to a sudden halt. “Who the hell is this? Put my wife on the phone.”

“You no longer have a wife, Mr. Sterling. This is Arthur Pendelton, Chief Legal Counsel for Vance Global Senior Executives,” the voice replied smoothly, completely unbothered by my shouting. “Any further direct communication to our client will be treated as criminal harassment. We have already blocked all direct attempts to contact our client.”

My head started to spin. I gripped the desk to steady myself. “Vance Global? What kind of sick joke is this? Did Jasmine get some low-rent, pro-bono lawyer to pretend—”

“A formal divorce petition has just been filed in court,” the lawyer cut me off, his voice dripping with terrifying professional indifference. “Your ex-wife is demanding absolutely zero alimony, zero assets from the Sterling estate, and a complete dissolution of the marriage effective immediately. Consider it a gift, Mr. Sterling.”

I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, staring blankly at the wall. “Zero alimony? She’s a penniless orphan! She doesn’t have a dollar to her name! Who the hell is paying your fees?”

“And finally, Mr. Sterling,” the lawyer continued. I could hear the distinct sound of papers rustling in the background. “As of exactly ten minutes ago, Vance Global has officially terminated the primary supply chain and data-hosting contract with Sterling Media, citing a direct breach of the morality and reputational clauses. You have forty-eight hours to migrate your entire infrastructure off our servers before we wipe the grid.”

The line went completely dead.

I stood paralyzed in the center of my office, the phone slipping from my fingers and hitting the plush carpet with a dull thud. My breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps. Beads of perspiration formed on my forehead.

The supply chain contract with Vance Global was the literal backbone of my entire media empire. They owned the satellites, the distribution channels, and the server grids. Without them, my broadcasts would go completely dark across three continents by Tuesday morning.

The heavy double doors of my office burst open. My assistant ran in, her face as white as paper, her tablet shaking in her hands.

“Sir... sir, you need to look at the financial news. Right now.”

Slowly, with a downcast look, I turned my eyes to the large television monitor on the wall. The news anchor’s voice was high-pitched.

“Breaking news in the financial sector,” the anchor announced, gesturing to a scrolling graphic. “In a stunning, midnight boardroom coup, the mysterious, long-hidden sole heir to the Vance Global Empire has officially taken the reins. Her first executive action has been a massive, targeted short against Sterling Media, sending the company into a catastrophic tailspin...”

The screen flashed, displaying a high-resolution photograph taken inside the Vance boardroom just minutes prior.

There she was. Standing at the absolute head of the most powerful table in the world. She was wearing a multi-thousand-dollar white pantsuit, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her hazel eyes reflecting the absolute coldness of an apex predator.

It was Jasmine.

I stumbled backward, my knees giving out as I collapsed heavily into my leather office chair. My mind completely refused to process the image on the screen. The quiet, submissive girl who had spent three years folding my laundry, making my coffee, and silently enduring my family’s constant sneers... was the ruler of the global economy.

“No,” I whispered into the empty, panicked room, a terrifying, suffocating weight crushing my chest. “No, this is impossible... How?”