Then what about when I'd called desperately, over and over, until my battery died—what did that mean? I'd made a million excuses for him. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he didn't hear. Maybe his phone was on silent...
But now, imagining him coldly watching my calls disconnect and redial, over and over again, I felt so embarrassed. No wonder he looked down on me... Who could love someone so clingy, so self-erasing?
I thought the storm had frozen my heart solid. But in this moment, it shattered again.
If something had happened to me in that storm half an hour ago, no one in this world would cry for me except my sister. Not even this man I'd loved for two whole years.
Tears poured down again at the thought of Maya.
Her body so frail, every breath painful, yet she still worried about me over the phone. She was the only person in the world who cared. How could I let this rotting marriage make her anxious on a sickbed?
Enough. Really, enough. I couldn't drain myself dry in this undignified cold war. I had to care for her. I had to wake up.
Turning from that door, I made my decision.
I wanted a divorce. As fast as possible.
Chapter Two
Lucas
Manhattan was always damp in the rainy season.
I stood at the desk, watching the storm hammer the massive windows. My mood was suffocating.
Even weather this violent couldn't shake this ancient, grand manor an inch.
This was my home. Also the gilded cage my grandfather built with his own hands.
Grandfather sat behind the desk in his wheelchair, reading glasses perched on his nose, his gaze severe as he studied VitaGen BioTech's financial statements. A man who'd ruled the business world his entire life—even past eighty, supposedly retired—still had eyes and ears everywhere in the company, interfering at every turn. I'd always respected him, but I couldn't deny it: his methods felt like a threat.
This reunion after two months apart was less a warm family gathering, more the final critical meeting about the acquisition.
"You visited three VitaGen branches and four labs. What's your assessment?" Grandfather's tone was like interrogating a hostile intruder.
I was ready. I dropped the first bomb, voice calm: "Their equipment reeks of mold. Their business logic is antiquated. Makes me sick. After the acquisition, I'm firing the entire executive team."
"Replace them with who? Fresh MBA grads who only talk futures at PowerPoint presentations?"
I knew it. Grandfather and I never agreed.
"Better than old bloodsuckers glued to balance sheets."
"Lucas, those middle-aged executives have twenty years in the industry. They're the company's foundation!"
I kept my tone level: "You know why VitaGen's going bankrupt? Management spends seventy percent of revenue on dividends instead of R&D. Those middle-aged men aren't the foundation—they're termites."
"A middle-aged man means a family behind him!" Grandfather slammed the thick report. "That's two thousand three hundred families!"
I'd anticipated this conversation.
"So you want me to make business decisions with sympathy?" I suppressed my irritation. "Sorry, Grandfather. Business is business. It requires rational judgment."
"Rational!" Grandfather roared. "You cold-blooded bastard—not just with business, but with family too. Two months without coming home. What do you think this place is, a hotel?"
Grandfather was picking at wounds again. Venting his inability to wield power.
I fired back calmly: "You should ask yourself why."
