Chapter 6 - The Desperate Plea
By Thursday, Trent realized the catastrophic extent of his blunder. The divorce papers he had proudly thrown at me were still on Marcus Vance's desk, but now the terms were entirely dictated by us.
I arrived at my office building around noon, accompanied by two private security guards I had hired to ensure no disruptions at my workplace. As I stepped out of my new company vehicle—a sleek black Porsche Cayenne—Trent stepped out from behind a concrete pillar in the parking garage.
He looked unraveled. His hair was greasy and uncombed, his button-down shirt wrinkled and stained with coffee, and dark purple bags hung heavily beneath his bloodshot eyes. He had lost the smug arrogance that had defined him just days earlier.
"Harper, please," he croaked, taking a step toward me.
My security guards instantly stepped forward, their hands resting firmly on their tactical vests. Trent stopped, raising his hands in defeat.
"Just five minutes, Harper. That's all I'm asking. Please," he begged, tears welling in his eyes. "You owe me five minutes after five years together."
I paused, looking at the man I had once thought was my partner in life. Looking at him now, I didn't feel rage or sadness. I felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment that I had ever allowed such an empty shell of a man to share my bed.
"Give us some space," I told the guards quietly. They stepped back just enough to allow private conversation while keeping their eyes locked on him.
"Harper, I made the biggest mistake of my life," Trent sobbed, taking a step closer, his voice trembling. "Brooke... Brooke played me. She manipulated me. She got inside my head and convinced me that you didn't care about me because you were always working."
"Is that why you opened an LLC under her name three years ago, Trent?" I asked, my voice calm and deadly quiet. "Did she manipulate you thirty-six months ago, when you asked me for extra money because your father supposedly needed lumbar surgery?"
Trent swallowed hard, choked by his own web of lies. "My mom... my mom set that up. She said we needed an emergency fund just in case your business went under. Harper, I was scared! You were always the strong one, the successful one. I felt so small next to you!"
"You are small, Trent," I replied evenly. "Not because of your paycheck, but because of your character. I never cared that you made twelve hundred dollars a month. I cared about your integrity. But you traded that away to play sugar daddy with my money."
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"I don't love Brooke! She left me anyway! She's gone!" he pleaded, dropping to his knees on the concrete floor of the garage, utterly uncaring of who saw him. "Take me back. We can go to counseling. We can sell the Paradise Valley house and start over somewhere quiet. I'll get a better job. I'll do anything. Please don't destroy my life."
"You destroyed your own life the second you threw those papers on my table," I said. "Stand up. You look pathetic."
