I'm once again out of ideas for this chapter's title, and I'd really appreciate your suggestions. Huge thanks to all the amazing new gems contributors! Your support, no matter how small, means the world to this author. Aria is about to experience the most devastating phase of her life, and it’s going to be intense. So, get ready for the upcoming chapters!
ARIAI start noticing a pattern. Xavier and Vivian's cars are the last ones in the executive parking lot night after night, sometimes until dawn. At first, I can buy the excuses—Asian expansion needs attention, European acquisition has those regulatory headaches. Sure, work happens.But then three nights a week becomes four, then five. They're staying past midnight no matter what's on the calendar the next day. And when they finally leave? They don't look exhausted like normal people after grinding through work all night. They look... energized. Sometimes disheveled. Often sharing little private jokes or lingering by their cars, talking low.I try to join one of these sessions, keeping it casual."The European acquisition filing deadline's coming up," I mention when I catch Xavier alone. "I could stay tonight, help finish the documentation. Those financial disclosures need a careful eye."Xavier doesn't even think about it. "Not necessary. Vivian and I have it covered.""Those financi
ARIAI arrive home drained, every muscle aching with the weight of the day.Too tired to think, I drag myself into a quick shower, hoping the water might wash away more than just the grime.But my chest still feels heavy with the ache lodged deep behind my ribs.I try to stay strong… to keep my head high, keep moving forward but nothing I do seems to lift the cloud settling over me.I flip through my leather journal, sitting cross-legged on my bed after a long shower, finally facing what I've been dodging for months.My hands are shaking as I read. The pages tell the whole embarrassing story of how I went from seeing Xavier as just a business partner to... God, I can barely admit it even to myself.May 22: Caught myself watching Xavier during the board presentation today. Not analyzing his strategy but noticing how his eyes crinkle slightly when he's pleased with a point well made.June 8: Missed Xavier during his three-day conference trip. House felt weirdly empty.My stomach twists
ARIAAfter another day of Xavier playing hide-and-seek, I've had enough.The manila envelope feels heavy in my hands. Inside are all the receipts I've been collecting.Hard evidence he can't just brush off with more of his bullshit excuses.My plan seems reasonable - leave this with a note asking for an honest conversation. No drama, no screaming match. Just grown-ups dealing with a problem.Xavier's study door is usually locked, his sacred man cave where even I'm not supposed to go without an invitation now. But today, the heavy oak door swings open when I push it.What I see makes my blood freeze.Xavier's on the leather couch with Vivian practically in his lap.Her blouse is half unbuttoned showing lacy bra underneath. His tie is thrown on the floor, and his hand is wrapped around her waist like he owns her.They break apart when they hear me with shocked expressions.For a second, nobody moves. The envelope dangles from my numb fingers as my brain struggles to process what I'm see
ARIAThe morning after catching Xavier and Vivian together, I walk into my office to find a sealed envelope sitting dead center on my desk. "Personal and Confidential" it says in bold letters, with the fancy embossed logo of Xavier's personal lawyers, not Harrington's regular attorneys.I shut my door before opening it. Inside are about fifty pages of legal crap, with "Petition for Dissolution of Marriage" right at the top in big, bold letters.Divorce papers. Not exactly shocking after last night, but the timing right after the board meeting where they restructured everything shows this was all planned out.I flip through the document, my finance brain kicking in despite feeling being punched in the gut.The settlement terms jump out immediately. He’s offering a lump sum that's less than 20% of what our original contract guaranteed. The number completely ignores everything I've done for Harrington's growth, all the value I've created, and the specific compensation our prenup spelled
ARIAThe 48-hour deadline ticks down to its final hours when I return the divorce papers to Xavier's office. Each page is covered in my red ink markings, rejecting every inadequate term.My note stays simple: "Inadequate and unacceptable!"I also attach all my documentation: financial reports showing company growth directly from my projects, client acquisition records with revenue impact, strategic initiatives I developed with resulting profitability metrics. The evidence creates an undeniable record of value creation far exceeding the settlement he offered.I add a final page quoting specific language from our original contract about dissolution terms—language Xavier's proposal completely ignores.The message is simple: I know exactly what I'm legally entitled to, and I have the documentation to back it up.Xavier responds through his lawyers rather than personally. They send another threatening message giving me 48 more hours to accept the original terms before they "pursue alternati
ARIAKatherine Deck' office takes up the top floor of a discreet building in the financial district.The reception area screams understated elegance. Quality furniture without being flashy, showing professional success without needing to brag about it.The vibe matches what my research revealed about Katherine herself: substance over style, real excellence over appearances.The receptionist takes me straight to Katherine's office despite the late hour.The attorney stands up as I enter. She’s a tall woman in her fifties with dark hair and sharp eyes that miss nothing.Her handshake is firm and direct, her assessment equally so as she gestures toward a seating area more comfortable for a long conversation than her formal desk."Thanks for fitting me in on such short notice," I start, placing my document portfolio on the table between us."High-conflict divorces rarely come with convenient scheduling," Katherine responds. "My assistant mentioned business complications mixed with the divo
ARIAMorning light filters through my office blinds as I methodically skim through evidence of my contributions to Harrington.I pull up emails showing my strategic input on our most successful projects.Financial reports tell their own story. I create a spreadsheet tracking quarterly growth under my financial direction, highlighting the upward trajectory since I took over as CFO.The numbers don't lie—our profitability has increased consistently under my leadership."Rebecca," I call through the intercom. "Could you gather the client testimonials from the Asian projects and the Davidson account? The ones where they specifically mentioned my involvement?"She appears in my doorway minutes later, files in hand. "I added the Archer Group testimonial too. They were explicit about working with us because of your reputation.""Perfect!" I smile gratefully. "And could you pull the documentation on the automated reporting system I implemented last year? The one that reduced our quarterly clo
ARIAAnother sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling passes before I finally drag myself out of bed, bracing for yet another draining day ahead.Xavier hasn’t returned home since the divorce battle began and honestly, I prefer it that way. In this house, with enemies lurking behind every polished smile, one mistake could cost me everything… even my life.The lights of the convention center ballroom blaze down on me as I prepare to give the keynote at the Annual Financial Innovation Summit.The room buzzes with industry leaders sipping champagne. My keynote. My moment."You ready?" Rebecca asks, offering a glass of water."Born ready." I smooth the lapel of my red suit. I don’t blend in. I stand out. “Mrs. Harrington,” the summit organizer calls me.“I’d prefer to be addressed as Ms. Taylor. Professionally,” I correct her with a calm smile and a subtle separation from Xavier’s shadow as I take the stage.My accolades are listed: my consultancy roots, my innovations, the 30% inter
ARIAAnother sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling passes before I finally drag myself out of bed, bracing for yet another draining day ahead.Xavier hasn’t returned home since the divorce battle began and honestly, I prefer it that way. In this house, with enemies lurking behind every polished smile, one mistake could cost me everything… even my life.The lights of the convention center ballroom blaze down on me as I prepare to give the keynote at the Annual Financial Innovation Summit.The room buzzes with industry leaders sipping champagne. My keynote. My moment."You ready?" Rebecca asks, offering a glass of water."Born ready." I smooth the lapel of my red suit. I don’t blend in. I stand out. “Mrs. Harrington,” the summit organizer calls me.“I’d prefer to be addressed as Ms. Taylor. Professionally,” I correct her with a calm smile and a subtle separation from Xavier’s shadow as I take the stage.My accolades are listed: my consultancy roots, my innovations, the 30% inter
ARIAMorning light filters through my office blinds as I methodically skim through evidence of my contributions to Harrington.I pull up emails showing my strategic input on our most successful projects.Financial reports tell their own story. I create a spreadsheet tracking quarterly growth under my financial direction, highlighting the upward trajectory since I took over as CFO.The numbers don't lie—our profitability has increased consistently under my leadership."Rebecca," I call through the intercom. "Could you gather the client testimonials from the Asian projects and the Davidson account? The ones where they specifically mentioned my involvement?"She appears in my doorway minutes later, files in hand. "I added the Archer Group testimonial too. They were explicit about working with us because of your reputation.""Perfect!" I smile gratefully. "And could you pull the documentation on the automated reporting system I implemented last year? The one that reduced our quarterly clo
ARIAKatherine Deck' office takes up the top floor of a discreet building in the financial district.The reception area screams understated elegance. Quality furniture without being flashy, showing professional success without needing to brag about it.The vibe matches what my research revealed about Katherine herself: substance over style, real excellence over appearances.The receptionist takes me straight to Katherine's office despite the late hour.The attorney stands up as I enter. She’s a tall woman in her fifties with dark hair and sharp eyes that miss nothing.Her handshake is firm and direct, her assessment equally so as she gestures toward a seating area more comfortable for a long conversation than her formal desk."Thanks for fitting me in on such short notice," I start, placing my document portfolio on the table between us."High-conflict divorces rarely come with convenient scheduling," Katherine responds. "My assistant mentioned business complications mixed with the divo
ARIAThe 48-hour deadline ticks down to its final hours when I return the divorce papers to Xavier's office. Each page is covered in my red ink markings, rejecting every inadequate term.My note stays simple: "Inadequate and unacceptable!"I also attach all my documentation: financial reports showing company growth directly from my projects, client acquisition records with revenue impact, strategic initiatives I developed with resulting profitability metrics. The evidence creates an undeniable record of value creation far exceeding the settlement he offered.I add a final page quoting specific language from our original contract about dissolution terms—language Xavier's proposal completely ignores.The message is simple: I know exactly what I'm legally entitled to, and I have the documentation to back it up.Xavier responds through his lawyers rather than personally. They send another threatening message giving me 48 more hours to accept the original terms before they "pursue alternati
ARIAThe morning after catching Xavier and Vivian together, I walk into my office to find a sealed envelope sitting dead center on my desk. "Personal and Confidential" it says in bold letters, with the fancy embossed logo of Xavier's personal lawyers, not Harrington's regular attorneys.I shut my door before opening it. Inside are about fifty pages of legal crap, with "Petition for Dissolution of Marriage" right at the top in big, bold letters.Divorce papers. Not exactly shocking after last night, but the timing right after the board meeting where they restructured everything shows this was all planned out.I flip through the document, my finance brain kicking in despite feeling being punched in the gut.The settlement terms jump out immediately. He’s offering a lump sum that's less than 20% of what our original contract guaranteed. The number completely ignores everything I've done for Harrington's growth, all the value I've created, and the specific compensation our prenup spelled
ARIAAfter another day of Xavier playing hide-and-seek, I've had enough.The manila envelope feels heavy in my hands. Inside are all the receipts I've been collecting.Hard evidence he can't just brush off with more of his bullshit excuses.My plan seems reasonable - leave this with a note asking for an honest conversation. No drama, no screaming match. Just grown-ups dealing with a problem.Xavier's study door is usually locked, his sacred man cave where even I'm not supposed to go without an invitation now. But today, the heavy oak door swings open when I push it.What I see makes my blood freeze.Xavier's on the leather couch with Vivian practically in his lap.Her blouse is half unbuttoned showing lacy bra underneath. His tie is thrown on the floor, and his hand is wrapped around her waist like he owns her.They break apart when they hear me with shocked expressions.For a second, nobody moves. The envelope dangles from my numb fingers as my brain struggles to process what I'm see
ARIAI arrive home drained, every muscle aching with the weight of the day.Too tired to think, I drag myself into a quick shower, hoping the water might wash away more than just the grime.But my chest still feels heavy with the ache lodged deep behind my ribs.I try to stay strong… to keep my head high, keep moving forward but nothing I do seems to lift the cloud settling over me.I flip through my leather journal, sitting cross-legged on my bed after a long shower, finally facing what I've been dodging for months.My hands are shaking as I read. The pages tell the whole embarrassing story of how I went from seeing Xavier as just a business partner to... God, I can barely admit it even to myself.May 22: Caught myself watching Xavier during the board presentation today. Not analyzing his strategy but noticing how his eyes crinkle slightly when he's pleased with a point well made.June 8: Missed Xavier during his three-day conference trip. House felt weirdly empty.My stomach twists
ARIAI start noticing a pattern. Xavier and Vivian's cars are the last ones in the executive parking lot night after night, sometimes until dawn. At first, I can buy the excuses—Asian expansion needs attention, European acquisition has those regulatory headaches. Sure, work happens.But then three nights a week becomes four, then five. They're staying past midnight no matter what's on the calendar the next day. And when they finally leave? They don't look exhausted like normal people after grinding through work all night. They look... energized. Sometimes disheveled. Often sharing little private jokes or lingering by their cars, talking low.I try to join one of these sessions, keeping it casual."The European acquisition filing deadline's coming up," I mention when I catch Xavier alone. "I could stay tonight, help finish the documentation. Those financial disclosures need a careful eye."Xavier doesn't even think about it. "Not necessary. Vivian and I have it covered.""Those financi
ARIAThe NeuroSphere acquisition report sits completed on Xavier's desk for tomorrow's meeting. Sixty-four pages of detailed analysis after three weeks of intense work. Singapore's tech market fits perfectly with Harrington's infrastructure, and I've covered every financial angle. When I walk into the conference room the next morning, I stop dead in the doorway. Vivian's standing at the presentation screen showing my financial models, just with different colors but clearly my work. The footer reads "Strategic Analysis by Vivian Taylor.""Aria, perfect timing," Xavier points to a chair far from the presentation area. "Vivian was just explaining the NeuroSphere opportunity."I sit there stunned while she presents my analysis as her own, occasionally adding comments that show she barely understands the actual numbers.The acquisition team directs all their questions to her instead of me, while Xavier nods approvingly at details I researched and put together myself."This is remarkably th