Chapter 5 - The Ambush at the Office
True to Victoria’s word, the fireworks didn't take long.
At 1:15 PM, my office phone buzzed. It was security at the ground floor lobby.
“Ms. Bennett? We have a Mr. Daniel Bennett downstairs demanding entry. He’s causing a scene at the front desk, claiming he’s a partner in your firm and demanding to see you.”
I looked up from a merger contract. “A partner? Send him up to the executive lounge, and have two building security guards wait outside the glass doors. Do not let him into my private office.”
Ten minutes later, Daniel burst into the executive lounge. He looked disheveled—his tie was loosened, his hair was messy, and the smug confidence he usually wore like cheap cologne had been replaced by desperate, frantic panic.
“Claire! What the hell is wrong with you?” Daniel shouted as soon as he saw me standing by the panoramic window overlooking the city skyline. “My corporate card was declined at a gas station! My gym membership was canceled! And my mother is having screaming fits in a cramped temporary rental because you locked us out of our lives!”
I didn't turn around immediately. I took my time, setting down my tablet, before pivoting to face him. “Your life, Daniel? You mean the life you built by leeching off mine?”
“Leeching?” Daniel scoffed, stepping closer, though the two burly security guards lingering just outside the glass kept him from charging forward. “I am your husband! I supported your career! I went to those boring corporate dinners!”
“You sat at my tables, ate my food, and let your family treat me like a servant in my own home,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “And then you tried to steal my house. Let’s not pretend there was ever a partnership here, Daniel. There was a parasite and a host.”
His face twisted in rage, the mask slipping completely. “You think you’re so untouchable because you have money? Without me, you’re just a cold, lonely corporate machine! Who’s going to look at you? Who’s going to love—”
“Cut the dramatics, Daniel,” I interrupted sharply. “Look at your phone.”
He blinked, confused, pulling his smartphone from his pocket.
“That ping,” I continued, “is the notification that Victoria Vance just filed the divorce papers and the criminal referral for mortgage fraud with the District Attorney's office. You have forty-eight hours to sign away any claim to my assets, or you can explain to a federal judge why your signature is forged on a multi-hundred-thousand-dollar loan document.”
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Daniel stared at the screen, the color draining from his face until he looked practically translucent. “You… you’re actually doing this over a fight about my mother?”
“No, Daniel,” I said, walking past him toward the door. “I’m doing this because I finally woke up.”
