Chapter Two- The Wife He Thought He Could Destroy.

CHAPTER TWO

The Wife He Thought He Could Destroy

“Give me the document, Celeste.”

Julian's voice had changed. The irritation was still there, but something beneath it made her grip the papers more tightly.

Fear.  For seven years, she had watched him face angry investors, stubborn suppliers, and competitors who wanted to see Morgan Enterprises collapse. He never flinched. He never backed down.

Yet one old document had stripped the confidence from his face.

“What does this mean?” she asked.

Julian held out his hand. “It means nothing. It's an old business record.”

“Then you shouldn't have a problem explaining it.”

“Celeste, don't start.”

“Start what?” She looked down at the paper again. Her name was printed clearly beside a percentage of the company's founding shares. Beneath it sat the signature she had written thousands of times. “You just told me I was never your business partner. So why is my name here?”

“Because you signed some documents when we were starting the company. That doesn't mean you own anything.”

“Then why didn't you tell me?”

He snatched the divorce papers from the table and slapped them down again.

“Because this is irrelevant to our divorce!”

Celeste flinched at the sudden movement, but she refused to look away.

“Is it? You want me to sign away my rights to a company you claim I never owned. How can you expect me to sign something I don't understand?”

“Your rights?” Julian laughed bitterly. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I'm not going to spend my entire night explaining business matters to you.”

Business matters.

She had spent nights sitting beside him at their tiny kitchen table, balancing accounts while he slept with his head resting on his folded arms. She had learned how to negotiate with suppliers because he couldn't afford an assistant. She had prepared presentations, chased unpaid invoices, and called investors who refused to return his calls.

But now, apparently, she knew nothing about business.

“I'm asking you one last time, Julian. What does this document mean?”

His jaw tightened.

“Give it back.”

“No.”

The word surprised them both.

Julian stared at her as if she had suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Isabella gave a small, mocking laugh from the sofa.

“Oh, Celeste. Don't embarrass yourself.”

Celeste turned toward her.

Isabella crossed her legs and examined her manicured nails. The same hands that had held Celeste's during sleepless nights, the same fingers that had wiped away her tears after arguments with Julian, now rested casually over the stomach carrying his child.

“You're making this much more complicated than it needs to be,” Isabella continued. “Julian has moved on. Why can't you?”

Celeste felt something hot rise in her chest.

“You slept with my husband.”

Isabella's expression barely changed.

“Your marriage was already falling apart.”

“And you thought the best way to help was to climb into his bed?”

“Celeste,” Julian warned.

“No.” Celeste pointed at Isabella. “You don't get to sit in my living room and explain my marriage to me. You don't get to pretend you were doing me a favor.”

Isabella stood, smoothing her dress over her stomach.

“I'm going to have Julian's child. Whether you accept it or not, I'm part of his future now.”

The words landed exactly where Isabella intended.

Celeste looked at Julian, waiting for him to tell Isabella to stop. Waiting for him to show even a fraction of the respect he had once promised her.

Instead, he moved beside Isabella and placed a protective hand on her shoulder.

That small gesture hurt more than the photographs.

“You need to leave,” Julian said to Celeste.

She stared at him.

“This is my home too.”

“Not for much longer.”

He walked toward the hallway and returned with another folder.

“My lawyer has prepared everything. You can take your personal belongings and whatever money is in your personal account. The house stays with me. The company stays with me. I don't want a public fight, and I don't want you making demands later.”

Celeste's fingers tightened around the founding document.

“And if I refuse to sign?”

“Then we'll let the lawyers deal with you.”

The casual cruelty of his answer left her speechless.

Julian took a step closer.

“You should be grateful I'm handling this privately. I could make things very uncomfortable for you.”

For years, Celeste had believed that the man standing before her was the person who would protect her from the world.

Now he was threatening to become the very thing she needed protection from.

She glanced at Isabella. There was a smugness in her eyes that made Celeste understand something she had refused to accept earlier.

Isabella hadn't simply wanted Julian.

She had wanted to win.

And Julian had made it easy for her.

“Have you told everyone?” Celeste asked quietly.

Julian frowned. “Told them what?”

“That you're leaving your wife for her best friend. That you're throwing away the woman who helped you build your company.”

His face hardened.

“Don't play the victim. Nobody forced you to help me.”

The room fell silent.

For one terrible second, Celeste could not breathe.

She remembered the day she had sold her mother's jewelry. She had sat on the edge of their bed, holding the velvet box her mother had left behind. The gold necklace, the earrings, the bracelet—every piece carried a memory.

Julian had knelt in front of her that night.

“I swear I'll make this up to you,” he had promised. “One day, everything I build will be ours.”

She had believed him so completely that she hadn't even asked him to put it in writing.

Now he was telling her that helping him had been her choice.

And he was right about one thing.

It had been her choice.

But trusting him had not given him the right to steal from her.

Celeste took a slow breath and placed the divorce papers back on the table.

“I won't sign these tonight.”

Julian's nostrils flared.

“You're making a mistake.”

“Maybe.”

She slipped the founding document into her handbag.

“But I'm not making it blindly.”

“Celeste, put that paper down.”

“No.”

He moved toward her, but she stepped back.

“If it's meaningless, you won't mind my lawyer examining it.”

“Don't threaten me in my own house.”

She almost laughed.

His own house.

Seven years ago, he had carried their mattress up three flights of stairs because they couldn't afford movers. They had painted the walls themselves, arguing over colors and eating noodles on the floor. There had been no expensive furniture, no marble countertops, no security guards at the gate.

Just two people and a promise.

Now Julian stood beneath the chandelier she had helped choose, telling her she no longer belonged there.

Celeste picked up her handbag.

“I'm leaving tonight. But I'm not signing anything until my lawyer reviews every document.”

“Fine,” he said coldly. “Take your things and go.”

She walked toward the door.

“Celeste,” Isabella called behind her.

She stopped, but didn't turn.

“I really am sorry things turned out this way.”

Celeste closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she looked back.

“No, Isabella. You're sorry I found out.”

She opened the door and walked out.

Neither of them followed.

───

The night air was cool, but Celeste barely felt it.

She sat in her car for several minutes with both hands resting on the steering wheel. Her phone kept lighting up with messages from Julian's relatives, mutual friends, and two people from the company.

She ignored them all.

She didn't know what she would do next. She didn't know whether the document gave her a legitimate claim to the company or whether Julian was right about its meaning.

But she knew one thing.

She would not sign away her future because the man who betrayed her had ordered her to.

She drove to a small hotel across town and booked a room under her own name. It wasn't the luxurious suite she could once have accessed through Julian's accounts, but it was clean, quiet, and hers.

After locking the door, she placed the founding document on the desk.

She read it three times.

Her name was there. So was a percentage of the company's original shares. There were other names, dates, and legal references she didn't fully understand.

At the bottom, a line of text caught her attention.

Any alteration or transfer of founding shares shall require verification of the original shareholder's consent.

Celeste read it again.

Then she photographed every page and sent the images to her personal email.

She wasn't a lawyer. She wouldn't pretend to understand everything she had just discovered. But she understood enough to know that she needed independent legal advice before doing anything else.

For the first time that night, her breathing steadied.

She removed her wedding ring and placed it beside the document.

The sight of it hurt, but not in the way she expected.

She had worn that ring through seven years of believing that loyalty could fix anything. She had worn it while sacrificing her savings, her comfort, and pieces of herself she hadn't known how to name.

Tomorrow, she would begin finding out what Julian had hidden from her.

Tonight, she would stop trying to understand why he no longer loved her.

───

At 7:35 the following morning, Celeste stood outside Morgan Enterprises.

She had barely slept. Her eyes were swollen, and exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, but she had dressed carefully in a cream blouse, black trousers, and low heels. She tied her hair back and carried a folder containing copies of the documents.

She had called a lawyer shortly after seven. The earliest appointment available was that afternoon.

Until then, she needed answers.

The building rose above her, its glass windows catching the morning sun. A large silver sign bearing the Morgan Enterprises name stood near the entrance.

She remembered when the company had occupied two cramped rooms above a pharmacy.

Julian had celebrated their first major contract by buying her a meat pie and a bottle of soft drink. They had sat on the office floor because there wasn't enough money for chairs.

He had fed her the last bite and told her that one day they would own the whole building.

She had laughed and said she didn't need a building.

She only needed him.

The memory made her chest ache.

Celeste straightened her shoulders and approached the reception desk.

“Good morning. I'd like to access the corporate records department.”

The receptionist looked up.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I was a founding shareholder. I need to review some original documents.”

The woman's expression changed slightly as she typed something into her computer.

“May I have your name, please?”

“Celeste Morgan.”

The receptionist paused.

Then she looked at the screen again.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. Your access has been revoked.”

Celeste stared at her.

“Revoked by whom?”

“Mr. Julian Morgan.”

“I'm asking to see the corporate records, not his office.”

“I'm afraid I can't authorize entry.”

“Could you please contact the legal department? Tell them I need to verify an original share document.”

The receptionist hesitated before picking up the telephone.

Celeste waited, watching employees pass through the security gates. Some recognized her. One woman who had worked in the finance department for years looked at Celeste, opened her mouth as if to speak, then quickly turned away.

The receptionist replaced the telephone.

“I'm sorry. I've been instructed not to give you access to company records.”

“Instructed by the legal department?”

“I can't provide further information.”

Celeste felt the humiliation settle over her, hot and heavy.

Julian hadn't even waited for the divorce to be finalized.

He had begun erasing her from the company before she had a chance to ask questions.

She gathered her folder.

“Thank you.”

She turned toward the entrance, determined not to let the receptionist see her eyes fill with tears.

She was almost outside when a man's voice stopped her.

“Mrs. Morgan?”

Celeste turned.

A middle-aged man in a gray suit approached, holding a tablet against his chest. She recognized him as one of the company's legal administrators.

“I understand you've requested access to the founding share records,” he said.

“Yes. I need to inspect the originals.”

He glanced toward the reception desk, then lowered his voice.

“I'm not authorized to release them to you.”

“Why?”

He hesitated.

“Because a transfer request was submitted yesterday.”

Celeste felt her pulse quicken.

“A transfer of what?”

“Shares associated with your name.”

For a moment, the sounds of the lobby seemed to disappear.

“Who submitted the request?”

“I can't discuss the details without authorization.”

“Was my signature on it?”

The man looked uncomfortable.

“I really shouldn't say more.”

“Please.” Her voice cracked despite her effort to control it. “If someone is trying to transfer my shares, I have a right to know.”

He glanced toward the elevators.

Then he said quietly, “The request is being processed. You should speak to your lawyer as soon as possible.”

He walked away before she could ask another question.

Celeste stood motionless.

Yesterday, Julian had insisted that she owned nothing.

Now someone was trying to transfer shares bearing her name.

She took out her phone and called the lawyer's office again, requesting an earlier appointment. Then she photographed the building's entrance and wrote down the legal administrator's name.

If Julian thought he could frighten her into surrendering whatever rights she possessed, he had badly underestimated her.

She pushed through the glass doors into the morning sunlight.

A sleek black car pulled to the curb directly in front of her.

The rear door opened.

A tall man stepped out in a perfectly tailored black suit, his expression unreadable. He glanced briefly at the Morgan Enterprises sign before turning his attention to Celeste.

She recognized him immediately.

Damian Blackwood.

The billionaire whose company had been Julian's fiercest competitor for years. The man Julian had once described as a ruthless predator who would destroy anyone standing between him and a business deal.

Damian's gaze moved to the folder in her hand, then settled on her face.

He didn't offer a sympathetic smile or ask whether she was all right.

Instead, he studied her with an intensity that made her feel he knew more about her situation than he should.

“Mrs. Morgan,” he said quietly.

Celeste tightened her grip on the folder.

“Mr. Blackwood.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“I take it your husband hasn't explained what he's done.”

“I'm not interested in discussing my marriage with you.”

“Good. Because your marriage isn't the most urgent problem you have.”

Her stomach tightened.

“What does that mean?”

Damian glanced toward the building, where employees were moving behind the glass doors.

Then he looked directly into her eyes.

“Someone is trying to transfer shares that may legally belong to you. And if the request is approved before you establish your rights, recovering them could become considerably more difficult.”

Celeste felt a chill move down her spine.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know what your husband is trying to do.”

“Why would you help me?”

For the first time, something shifted in Damian's expression. It was subtle, almost too brief to notice, but it looked dangerously close to anger.

Not at her.

At someone else.

He stepped closer and lowered his voice.

“Because Julian Morgan has spent seven years believing you were too loyal to question him.”

Celeste couldn't speak.

Damian held her gaze.

“And now he's made the biggest mistake of his life.”