“I am collecting my personal belongings, Preston,” I say, my voice even and steady, a stark contrast to his barely contained rage. “As arranged by our lawyers.”
He looks genuinely confused for a moment. “What are you talking about? No one told me—” His eyes land on Nico, and his expression shifts to relief. “Nicolette. Thank god you’re here. Did you see this in my calendar? You came to supervise?”
Before Nico can respond, he turns back to me, his confidence restored now that he thinks his assistant is here to back him up. “I paid for everything in this house. I paid foryou.”
The words are meant to cut, to diminish me, to remind me of my place. But they don’t. They just sound… pathetic.
“You’re being hysterical,” he continues, taking a step into the room. “You can’t survive for five minutes without me, and you know it. You’ll come crawling back before long, begging me to take you back.”
I don’t respond. I just watch him, this man I once thought I loved, and feel nothing but a profound, chilling pity.
He’d barged into the room expecting a fight, but my silence infuriates him more than any argument could. His eyes dart from my calm face to Nico, and his expression shifts. He looks at her not as an employee, but as an attractive woman, his gaze lingering in a way that makes my stomach turn. This is Preston at his most untouchable — so arrogant, so certain of his power, that he doesn’t even pretend to have boundaries anymore. Not in front of me. Not in front of anyone. He believes he’s invincible.
He completely misreads the situation, turning to Nico with a smug, authoritative air. “Nicolette, make sure she doesn’t take anything of actual value,” he says, his voice slick with false charm. “We’ll need a full inventory for the lawyers.” His eyes travel over her in a way that makes his meaning clear. “After you’re done with… this,” he waves a dismissive hand at my packed life, “Come to my office. Downstairs. Alone.”
This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. I take a half-step, subtly placing myself between them. “Don’t talk to her like that,” I say, my voice dangerously quiet.
Preston lets out a bark of laughter, genuinely amused. “She works for me. She knows exactly who signs her paycheck. She knows who to obey.”
“I’ve already completed a full inventory of the items Miss Holloway has packed,” Nico says, her voice as cool and crisp as autumn air. She holds up a tablet. “Everything has been cross-referenced. They are all confirmed as pre-marital assets, owned by her outright. Legally, it’s all hers.”
The transformation in Preston’s face is a sight to behold. The smug smirk falters, replaced by a slack-jawed confusion. His cold gray eyes dart from my calm face to Nico’s unreadable one, then to the tablet in her hand. The gears in his mind are grinding, trying to process a reality where he is not in control.
“What?” he stammers, looking at Nico. “Why did you call her Holloway? It’s Darlington. Mrs. Darlington. She’s my wife.”
Before I can answer, Nico does. “Ex-wife.”
His head snaps toward Nico, then back to me. Something is clicking into place, but he doesn’t want to believe it. The satisfaction is a warm, spreading wave in my chest. “Nico and I have known each other for years.”
His head snaps back to her, the confusion curdling into dawning horror. “Nico?” he whispers, the name a question, an accusation. “Nico?”
Nico finally breaks her professional mask, a slow, lethal smile spreading across her lips. “It’s Nicolette to you,” she says, her voice pure steel wrapped in silk. “Only my ride or die here gets to call me Nico.”
The dawning comprehension finally hits him, a tidal wave of reality that shatters his carefully constructed world. His face turns a blotchy, ugly red. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, but no sound comes out. The mask of the powerful, untouchable Preston Darlington III doesn’t just crack; it shatters into a million pieces, revealing the panicked, entitled man-child underneath.
“You… youwhat?” he finally sputters, his voice a strangled whisper. “You’re friends withmy wife?”
“Ex-wife,” Nico corrects again.
His face goes from red to purple. “You’re both going to pay for this. Nicolette, you signed an NDA. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers—”
“Actually, I didn’t,” Nico says, her voice cool and professional. “I had my own attorney review my employment contract before I signed. The NDA requirement was removed. You were so eager to hire me, you didn’t even notice.” She tilts her head. “And everything I documented? Legally discoverable. I made sure of it.”
Preston’s mouth works soundlessly.
“Oh, and I resigned,” Nico adds. “I emailed my resignation to HR at 2 PM. You probably didn’t see it yet.” She pauses. “I’m no longer your employee, Preston.”
While he processes this new layer of devastation, sputtering incoherently about lawyers and ruin and how we’ll never get away with this, Nico and I move toward the door. We each pick up a box, our movements calm and deliberate.
But Preston recovers enough to step into the doorway, blocking our path. His face is blotchy, his breathing heavy. For a moment, I feel a flicker of the old fear try to take root in my chest. Six years of conditioning. Six years of making myself smaller.
“You’re not taking anything,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you.”
I look at this man who tried to erase me, who used his size and his money and his family name to make me feel powerless. And I feel… nothing. No fear. No intimidation. Just a cold, clear certainty.
“Move,” I say quietly.
“Make me,” he sneers.
