Chapter 4 - THE THROWING OUT
Mark stood paralyzed in the conference room as the senior partners of Halcyon Capital erupted into pure chaos.
“Reynolds! What the hell is the meaning of this?!” Harrison Vance roared, slamming his fist onto the glass table. “Your wife owns Vance Plaza? Your wife is Victor Vance’s heir? Why didn't you know about this?!”
“I... I didn't...” Mark stammered, his face draining of all color. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs. “There must be a mistake! Emily is a housewife! Her mother was a schoolteacher from Ohio! She doesn't own anything!”
Jessica grabbed Mark’s arm, her claws digging through his suit jacket, her eyes wide with terror. “Mark! If we lose this building and the Vanguard deal fails, Halcyon is ruined! The board will destroy us!”
Mark pulled his arm away, his hands shaking violently as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Emily’s number.
It went straight to voicemail.
“Hi, you’ve reached Emily. Please leave a message.”
“Emily! Pick up the phone!” Mark yelled into the receiver, slamming out of the conference room and rushing down the hallway toward his private office. “What kind of sick game are you playing?! Call me back right now!”
He slammed his office door shut, his chest heaving. He paced back and forth across the plush carpet, sweat pouring down his neck. Emily? The woman he had spent the last month belittling? The woman he had treated like an embarrassing burden? She was Victor Vance’s daughter?
He suddenly remembered the way she had looked at him last night when he told her she didn't understand private equity. He remembered the quiet, terrifying calmness in her eyes when she asked about Jessica.
He snatched his coat and car keys, sprinting toward the executive elevators.
Forty minutes later, Mark’s Mercedes screeched to a halt in the driveway of their suburban home. The heavy rain was coming down in sheets now, thunder rumbling overhead.
He burst through the front door, slamming it behind him. “Emily!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the foyer. “Emily, where are you?!”
He charged into the living room, only to freeze in his tracks.
Two men in dark suits—private security guards—were standing by the fireplace. Sitting comfortably on the velvet sofa was Arthur Sterling, quietly sipping a cup of tea.
Standing near the window, dressed in a sharp, tailored black trousersuit that hugged her frame, was Emily. Her damp, messy hair from the night before had been replaced by a sleek, professional style. She held Leo gently against her shoulder, rocking him with calm, graceful rhythm.
Beside her stood a team of professional movers, who were currently packing heavy cardboard boxes.
“What is going on here?!” Mark demanded, glaring at the guards before advancing on Emily. “What did you do at my office today, Emily?! Halcyon received an eviction notice! They said... they said you own Vance Plaza!”
Emily turned around slowly. Her eyes were cool, clear, and completely devoid of the warmth or fear Mark had grown accustomed to over the last five years.
“I do own Vance Plaza, Mark,” Emily said, her voice steady and quiet. “In fact, I own Vanguard Industries.”
Mark felt as though the floor beneath him had dropped into an abyss. “You... you lied to me! All these years!”
“I didn't lie to you,” Emily replied coldly. “I didn't even know myself until yesterday morning when Mr. Sterling called me. Victor Vance was my father. He left everything to me.”
Mark took a step closer, his expression shifting from rage to a desperate, manic smile. “Emily... baby... this is incredible! This is amazing news! Don't you see what this means? We’re rich! We control Vanguard! Together, you and I can run Halcyon and Vanguard as a joint mega-firm! We can—”
“There is no 'we,' Mark,” Emily interrupted softly.
Mark stopped. “What?”
Arthur Sterling stood up, placing a blue legal folder on the coffee table. “Mr. Reynolds, I am serving you with formal divorce papers on behalf of my client, Mrs. Emily Vance-Reynolds. Furthermore, Vance Plaza LLC has filed an emergency injunction restraining you from entering any commercial properties owned by the Vance trust.”
Mark’s face twisted into an ugly, furious scowl. “Divorce?! Are you insane, Emily?! You’re having a postpartum breakdown! You can't divorce me! I’m your husband! I took care of you!”
“You cheated on me,” Emily said flatly. “You brought your mistress into my kitchen three weeks after I had a C-section. You let your mother treat me like a servant. You told me I was useless.”
“It was just stress!” Mark yelled, stepping forward aggressively. “I made a mistake with Jessica! It meant nothing! We have a child together, Emily!”
The two security guards instantly stepped between Mark and Emily, their massive frames blocking him completely.
At that moment, the front door opened again. Mark’s mother, Linda, walked in, carrying a basket of baby clothes. “Mark? What are all these cars outside—?”
Linda stopped dead when she saw the security guards, the movers, and the legal papers on the table.
“What is this?” Linda gasped.
Emily looked at her mother-in-law with an icy smile. “Linda, I’m so glad you’re here. You can help Mark pack his things.”
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“Pack his things?!” Linda shrieked. “In this rain?! This is my son’s house!”
“Actually,” Arthur Sterling chimed in politely, “the deed to this residential property was purchased under Vance Residential Investments three months ago via a holding company. Mrs. Reynolds owns this house outright. Mr. Reynolds, you have fifteen minutes to collect your personal clothing before my guards escort you off the property.”
