My husband put his secretary in my seat on my own private jet, then looked me in the eye and told me to remember my place / Chapter 5 / 52

Chapter 5 - A Beggar in a Brioni Suit

The realization hit Grant like a physical blow. His shoulders caved, and he reached out to steady himself against the wall. The bespoke Brioni suit, worth eight thousand dollars, looked suddenly two sizes too large on his shrinking frame.

"Claire... please," he whispered, all the bravado evaporating into thin air. "We can talk about this. We're married. Ten years of marriage! You can't dismantle our life over a misunderstanding about a plane seat! Sabrina meant nothing. She was a distraction, an executive assistant who stepped out of line—"

"Excuse me?!"

The shrill cry didn't come from me. It came from Sabrina.

She leaped to her feet, her designer heels clicking sharply on the floor, her eyes blazing with sudden, feral rage. The terrified mistress had vanished; in her place was a woman cornered, ready to tear down anyone to survive.

"A distraction?!" Sabrina shrieked, pointing a manicured, French-tipped finger into Grant’s face. "You told me you were divorcing her by Christmas! You told me she was an emotionally dead socialite who didn't understand your vision! You told me that once the Sterling merger closed, you would kick her out of the penthouse and put my name on the deed!"

The entire boardroom watched in cold amusement as the two rats turned on each other in the trap.

"Shut your mouth, you stupid girl!" Grant spat, turning on her with bared teeth. "You wouldn't even have a career if I hadn't pulled you out of the junior marketing pool!"

"I have the audio recordings, Grant!" Sabrina screamed back, reaching frantically into her purse and pulling out an iPhone with a jewel-encrusted case. "I recorded every single meeting where you instructed me to move funds to Aegis Horizon! I recorded you bragging about how you were going to use Claire's family money to buy your own seat in the Senate!"

She turned toward me, rushing toward the table, her hands shaking as she held out the phone like an offering to an angry goddess.

"Mrs. Vance—Claire—please! Look at this! I have everything! The wire numbers, the text messages where he told me to book the jet and leave you stranded at the regional terminal! He told me he wanted you to break, to look crazy in front of the board so he could file for conservatorship!"

A dark, cold shudder ran through the boardroom.

Conservatorship.

Tom Reynolds and the other board members leaned back in disgust. Even Arthur Sterling’s expression hardened from cool professional disdain into pure, icy contempt.

Grant had not merely wanted to cheat on me; he had planned to destroy my mind, strip my legal autonomy, and lock me away while he drained the Vance fortune.

I didn't touch Sabrina's phone. I simply looked at her outstretched hands.

"You were very efficient, Sabrina," I said, my voice smooth and chillingly detached. "You kept meticulous records of your own criminal conspiracy. Daniel, take the device for evidence."

Daniel stepped forward with a sterile evidence bag and collected the phone. Sabrina stood stranded in the middle of the room, looking around desperately for a lifeline that didn't exist.