8

SPENCER'S POV

The morning started with a silence that tasted like copper.

I sat in my penthouse, staring at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Chicago loop. Usually, this view felt like a conquest—a grid of glass and steel that I had mastered. But today, the city looked cold. Indifferent. I reached for my phone to call Sarah, my secretary, to demand why the morning briefings hadn’t been sent to my private email. The line didn't even ring. Account Suspended.

I threw the phone against the leather sofa. "Technical glitch," I muttered to the empty room, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "Just a goddamn glitch."

I dressed in my most expensive charcoal-gray suit, the one I saved for closing billion-dollar deals. I needed to feel the weight of the fabric, the sharp lines of the shoulders. I needed to remind myself who I was: Spencer Knox, the man who turned a small-time real estate firm into a predatory empire. I grabbed my keys and headed to the office, ignoring the way my hands shook as I gripped the steering wheel of the Lamborghini.

When I pulled up to the Knox Building, something was wrong.

There were no valets. No security guards rushing to open my door. Just a group of people standing on the sidewalk, pointing at the digital ticker-tape above the entrance. My name, Knox Industries, was no longer scrolling in bright LED lights. It was dark. Blank.

I pushed through the revolving doors, my heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. I expected the usual chorus of "Good morning, Mr. Knox," but the lobby was a graveyard of whispers. Employees were huddled in small groups, their faces pale, holding cardboard boxes.

"What the hell is going on here?" I bellowed, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Two security guards—men I had personally vetted, men I had given generous Christmas bonuses to—stepped out from behind the reception desk. They didn't move toward me to greet me. They moved to block the elevators.

"Mr. Knox," the head of security said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You need to stop right there."

"Stop? I own this building, you idiot! Move aside before I have you working as a mall cop by lunch!"

The guard didn't flinch. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and boredom that made my skin crawl. "The building ownership was transferred at 8:00 AM this morning. The lease for Knox Industries has been terminated for breach of contract. Specifically, the non-payment and morality clauses. You no longer have authorization to enter the executive floors."

"Morality clause? For a divorce?!" I lunged forward, trying to shove past them, but they caught me by the arms. Their grip was like iron. "Let me go! Marcus! Sarah! Get down here!"

"They’re not coming, Spencer."

I stopped struggling. Marcus, my CFO, was standing by the lounge area. He wasn't wearing his usual Knox Industries lapel pin. He looked... relaxed. Relieved. He was holding a sleek black briefcase that I knew contained the company’s deep-level financial records.

"Marcus," I gasped, straightening my jacket as the guards finally let go of me. "Tell these gorillas who I am. Tell them the Chandler bank made a mistake. We have the Sterling merger! We’re untouchable!"

Marcus walked toward me, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He didn't stop until he was inches from my face. He looked down at the floor, where three cardboard boxes were sitting.

"The Chandler bank didn't make a mistake, Spencer," Marcus said, his voice flat. "They made a move. And you were too busy chasing Hailey Sterling’s skirt to see the knife coming. The merger is dead. Thomas Sterling is currently in a closed-door meeting with Arthur Vance, trying to save his own neck by throwing yours under the bus."

"That’s impossible. Thomas needs me!"

"Thomas needs a miracle. And he found one in the Chandler family." Marcus kicked one of the boxes toward me with the toe of his shoe. "The board of directors met at 7 AM. They voted unanimously to liquidate. I’ve already accepted a consulting position with the new holding company. I’m moving my things to their headquarters this afternoon."

I felt the air leave my lungs. "You... you’re leaving me? After ten years? I made you, Marcus! You were a back-office accountant when I found you!"

"And you were a man with a vision when I joined you," Marcus shot back, his eyes finally showing a spark of anger. "But you turned into a narcissist who thought he could treat his wife like trash and the world wouldn't notice. Everly was the only thing keeping your reputation human, Spencer. Without her, you’re just a shark in a suit that’s too big for him."

He leaned in closer, his voice a lethal whisper. "By the way, the bank took the penthouse an hour ago. The locks are already being changed. Your personal accounts are flagged for a fraud audit. You’re not just out of a job, Spencer. You’re out of a life."

He walked past me, his shoulder hitting mine. He didn't even look back as he exited the building.

I stood there, frozen, while my former employees watched me. Some were crying. Most were just staring, their eyes filled with a terrifyingly cold satisfaction. I looked down at the boxes. My life’s work. A framed photo of me and Spencer at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. My 'Top CEO' trophy. A crystal decanter Everly had bought me for our first anniversary—the only thing in the box that looked like it had any real value.

I snatched the box up, nearly dropping it as the weight hit me. I marched out of the lobby, my face burning with a humiliation so intense I felt like I was going to vomit. I threw the box into the passenger seat of the Lamborghini and roared out of the parking lot, the tires screaming against the asphalt.

I needed Hailey. She was the only one left. Her father’s money could float me until I figured out a counter-attack. I dialed her number on the car’s Bluetooth, praying she would answer.

"Spencer?" Her voice sounded shrill, panicked.

"Hailey, thank god. Listen, the office—there’s been a coup. Marcus betrayed me. I need to meet your father. We need to sign the Sterling papers now, before the Chandler banks—"

"Are you insane?!" Hailey screamed, her voice cracking. "My father is in the hospital! He had a heart attack when the bailiffs showed up at the house! They’re taking the cars, Spencer! They’re taking my jewelry! My brother is there right now, laughing at us!"

"Steve? What the hell does Steve have to do with this?"

"He’s with her, Spencer! He’s with Everly! He’s been helping her this whole time!" Hailey was sobbing now, the sound raw and ugly. "My father told me to stay away from you. He said you’re a curse. If I ever speak to you again, I’m cut off from whatever is left of the estate. Don't call me. Don't come here. You ruined us!"

"Hailey, wait—"

The silence in the car was deafening. I pulled over to the side of the road, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I looked at the crystal decanter in the box beside me. It was beautiful. Elegant. It reminded me of the way Everly used to look at me—with a devotion that I had taken for granted every single day.

A sudden, violent rage boiled over in my chest. This was her. It had to be her. That mousy, silent girl had planned this. She had waited until I was at my most vulnerable and then she had pulled the world out from under me.

"You think you can win?" I screamed at the dashboard, pounding my fist against the steering wheel. "You think you can just walk away with my life?!"

I knew where she was. The Chandler Estate. I had seen the address on the legal notices. It was a fort, a palace, a place I wasn't supposed to be able to reach. But I still had the Lamborghini. I still had the ring on my finger. And I still had the belief that if I could just get her in a room, if I could just remind her of the man I used to be, she would fold. She always folded.

I threw the car into gear and headed toward the outskirts of the city. I didn't care about the speed traps. I didn't care about the fact that I was trespassing. I was going to see my wife. I was going to demand what was mine.

But as the massive iron gates of the Chandler Estate came into view, my heart sank. It wasn't just a house. It was a fortress of obsidian and moonlight, looming over the lake like a silent judge.

I screeched to a halt in front of the gates, leaning on the horn until my ears rang. "Open the gate!" I yelled out the window. "I’m Spencer Knox! I’m here to see my wife!"

The gates hummed open, but not because they recognized me. They opened because they were letting me in for the kill. I drove up the winding driveway, my tires kicking up gravel, and slammed the car into park at the base of the marble stairs.

I stumbled out, my suit rumpled, my hair a mess. I looked up at the balcony and saw her.

Everly.

She was standing there, looking down at me like I was a bug she was about to crush under her heel. She wasn't wearing the aprons or the cheap dresses I’d forced on her. She was wearing power. And standing right behind her, his hand resting possessively on her waist, was the one man I feared most in this city.

Steve Sterling.

The sight of them together—the man who had everything and the woman I had thrown away—was the final, crushing blow. My knees felt weak. The rage evaporated, replaced by a cold, hollow terror.

"Everly!" I shouted, my voice sounding like a plea. "Please! We can talk about this! We’re still husband and wife!"

But she didn't move. She didn't cry. She didn't even look angry. She just looked at me with a terrifying, absolute indifference.

And in that moment, I realized that Marcus was right. I wasn't a king. I wasn't even a player. I was just a man in an expensive suit, standing in the dirt, watching the world move on without him.