Chapter 5 - The Resignation and the Golden Parachute
At eleven o'clock, the private elevator chimed. Nathan stepped out alone. The tailored perfection he usually maintained was completely gone. His silk tie was pulled loose at his collar, his hair was disheveled, and his eyes were wild with desperation.
He rushed toward the reception counter, ignoring the security guards and the murmuring employees who pretended to read their tablets nearby.
"Claire," he breathed, reaching across the counter to grasp my hands. "I took care of it. Marcus is suspended. The audit is frozen. I'm moving your office back up to forty right now. I swear to God, I didn't know Vanessa did this. I thought you were working remotely on the rebranding proposal."
I gently, deliberately pulled my hands out of his grasp.
"You didn't know because you didn't look, Nathan," I said, my voice eerily calm. "For six weeks, you let that woman paraded around this building like she owned you, your company, and me. You let her demean my work. You told me my dignity was just 'board politics.' You didn't protect me, Nathan. You just protected your deal."
"Claire, please, don't do this here," he begged, his voice cracking. The powerful CEO was suddenly reduced to a pleading boy. "Come home. Let's talk in Lincoln Park. We can announce our marriage to the board today. I'll tell the press. I don't care about Charles Hart anymore. Just come upstairs."
"It's too late for that," I said.
I reached beneath the granite desk and pulled out a crisp, white envelope embossed with my personal monogram. Beside it, I placed a small velvet pouch containing my platinum and diamond wedding ring.
"What is that?" Nathan asked, backing away as if the envelope contained poison.
"My immediate resignation," I stated clearly. "Along with petition for dissolution of marriage. My attorney, David Miller, has already filed the papers with Cook County Circuit Court. You'll receive formal service by end of day."
"Claire, no! I won't accept your resignation! I won't sign the divorce papers!"
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"You don't have to accept it, Nathan," I replied, standing up and sliding out of the cheap navy blazer. Beneath it, I was wearing a bespoke charcoal Saint Laurent silk jumpsuit. I tossed the blazer onto the chair behind me, dropped the silver receptionist name tag onto the counter, and picked up my leather bag. "And as for your company... I suggest you prepare for the three o'clock emergency shareholder meeting. You're going to need a very good lawyer."
I walked past him toward the revolving doors. For the first time in six years, I didn't look back.
