CHAPTER 5 — THE PEN

Elena's pov

My face held no pity for the man kneeling before me as I signed my name neatly on the document.

The pen felt heavy in my hand which was still bleeding from the cut. Not because I was afraid, but because for three years, I had not been allowed to sign anything.

Not a check, contract or even my own name. I couldn't sign anything without Marcus looking over my shoulder and telling me I was too stupid to understand it.

He would laugh and say, "Let me handle the business, baby. You just look pretty."

Now, standing in the same room that told me I was worthless, my name was the only one that mattered.

Mrs. Sterling continued to scream. "You ruthless whore! Are you really going to kick out the man who held you together after your father's death? When you lost your memory, Marcus could have kept it all for himself but he married you. Is this how you want to pay us back?"

Her voice was sharp and ugly. The same voice that had woken me up at 5 AM for three years to clean her floors. The same voice that had called me useless when I burned the soup. The same voice that encouraged Marcus to bring in his business partner into a home my father built.

My eyes remained cold and focused as I signed the document that would now make me the CEO of my father's company.

"Here is the first document," I said coldly, handing it over to the lawyer. "And here are the divorce papers."

My hand did not shake which surprised me. For three years, my hands had shaken every time Marcus raised his voice. For three years, I had flinched when a door slammed. But now, with three powerful men behind me and the truth in front of me, my hand was steady.

I was about to hand over the second document when Mrs. Sterling lunged, trying to snatch it from my hands. Her nails were long and red, aiming for my face. But the lawyer, Delia Frost, was faster. She grabbed Mrs. Sterling by the wrist and pinned her down to the marble floor with a strength that shocked everyone.

Mrs. Sterling thrashed and screamed, but Delia did not let go. She looked up at me, calm and professional, her hair still perfect, and said, "Continue, Ms. Hart. I have her."

I took three low but deliberate steps toward Mrs. Sterling and stopped just in front of her. One finger went to her chin, pulling her face up to look at my eyes. She had always looked down at me in a way that made me feel small. But now she was on the floor, and I was standing.

"Let me remind you whose house this is in case you have forgotten," I said. My voice was low, but everyone heard it. "This house belongs to me. It is no longer the Sterling mansion. It is the Hart mansion. My father bought this house for me when I was sixteen and you lived here because Marcus married me. You are not family. You were guests who overstayed."

Mrs. Sterling's face turned white. "You ungrateful brat! After everything we did for you!"

"You did nothing for me," I said. "You only tried to take everything away from me."

Damien nodded to security as if on cue, and Mrs. Sterling and Clara were escorted out, screaming and thrashing.

Clara clawed at the door frame, her nails breaking. "Elena! You cannot do this! Marcus loves you! You are nothing without him! You will come crawling back!"

I did not answer her. I turned back to Marcus. He was still on his knees, still in the same wine-stained suit from last night, still sobbing into the marble. His knees would have been red from the floor by now, but I didn't care. His face was swollen from crying.

"Elena, please," he whispered. "Please do not do this. I can change. I will be good. I will love you the way you wanted. I will fire my mother. I will send Clara away. I will do anything."

For three years, I had begged him to look at me. For three years, I had cleaned his mother's mess, taken his insults, taken his hands on my face. I had begged him to be a man, to love me but instead he only handed me small scraps of affection, commanding me to wait for him on the bed and having cold souless sex when me.

Now he was begging me to be a wife.

"No," I said. "You had three years to be a man. You chose to be a parasite."

I turned to Delia. "My first order as CEO. Freeze all of Marcus Sterling's accounts. Start the forensic audit today. I want every dollar he moved offshore traced. And bring me the list of everyone he fired in the last three years. I want to know the good people who were loyal to my father and I want them back."

Delia nodded and wrote it down. "Yes, Ms. Hart. I will have it by noon."

Adrian stepped closer and took my bleeding hand gently. His thumb brushed over the cut. "You did it, Ghost. You did it."

Roman stood beside him, his silver eyes soft for the first time since I met him. "Welcome back, CEO."

Damien did not smile. He looked at me like he was waiting for the next question. He knew I had one. He knew I would not stop at the house and the company.

"Tell me about my father," I said, my voice cracking for the first time. "If he faked his death, is he alive? And why did he let me suffer for three years? Why did he let Marcus take everything? Why did he not come for me?"

The room went quiet. Even Marcus stopped sobbing to listen.

Adrian looked at Roman. Roman looked at Damien. Damien finally spoke, low and rough.

"Your father did not fake his death to abandon you, Elena. He faked it because someone inside Hart Global was trying to kill him to take the company. Marcus was not working alone. He was just the puppet. Someone bigger was pulling the strings. Someone who knew about seven years ago, someone who knows who the real you is."

My chest tightened and one memory flooded my mind, sharp and clear.

A long glass table with three young men, barely out of their twenties, furious and bankrupt, about to lose everything to a hostile takeover. Me, at twenty one, standing and screaming at my own father.

Later that evening my had father looked at me with pride and fear at the same time. His voice trembled as he spoke; "Elena, if anything happens to me, find the three boys. They will keep their promise."

I finally understood why they had come back. They did not come to save a weak woman. They came to collect on a debt to my father, and to me. I had saved them. Now they were saving me.

I pulled my hand away from Adrian and walked to the grand staircase. Then looked down at Marcus one last time.

"You wanted me on my knees cleaning your mother's mess," I said. "Now you will watch me from yours."

I went upstairs. I showered the blood and the concealer off my face, letting the bruise show as a reminder of what he did. Then I opened my father's old closet and found the suit I wore at twenty one, the black suit I wore the day I saved three companies in a boardroom. It still fit like it was waiting for me.

When I came back down, I was no longer the wife Marcus broke. I was Elena Hart, CEO.

Damien, Adrian, and Roman all stood up straighter when they saw me. Marcus stared up at me like he was seeing a ghost. Delia smiled for the first time and whispered, "You look just like him."

And then my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered it.

A man's voice, older, rough, familiar, said only one line.

"Elena. It is Dad. Do not trust the three of them completely. Come alone."

I froze, the phone still pressed to my ear. The three CEOs who had just saved me watched my face change and spoke at the same time.

"Who is that?"