Chapter 2 - THE ELEVATOR OF RECKONING
The mechanical hum of the private elevator was the only warning we received.
At exactly eight seventeen in the evening,
the chime echoed through the silent penthouse,
a sharp,
clear sound that signaled the beginning of the end.
The brass doors slid open with a soft,
cushioned whisper,
revealing the two figures standing inside.
Sienna stepped out first,
her heels making a confident,
sharp sound on the marble floor.
She carried a bunch of fresh white roses in her left hand,
their fragrance momentarily cutting through the smell of old paper and coffee.
But it was not the flowers that drew my attention.
It was the garment she wore beneath her open camel coat.
My black silk robe.
The very same robe Grant had bought for me during our honeymoon in Paris,
the one he claimed made me look like a sin he wanted to confess.
To see it draped over her shoulders,
tied carelessly at her waist,
was a deliberate provocation,
a childish display of ownership meant to mark her territory.
Grant stepped out behind her,
his hand resting comfortably on her lower back,
his face wearing the smug,
relaxed expression of a man who believed he had won.
He was talking to her,
his voice low and intimate,
until his eyes adjusted to the light of the room.
He stopped so suddenly that Sienna stumbled slightly,
the white roses trembling in her hand.
For one perfect,
unbroken second,
nobody spoke.
The elevator doors behind them whispered shut,
cutting off their only avenue of escape.
The reality of the room began to register on Grant’s face,
the smugness dissolving into a look of profound confusion.
He saw the long conference table,
the stacks of legal documents,
the court reporter with her fingers hovering over the machine,
and the three attorneys watching him like hawks.
Finally,
his gaze landed on me.
I sat perfectly still at the head of the table,
wearing my cream suit,
looking back at him with a coldness that seemed to physically push him back.
"Evelyn,"
he said,
his voice cracking slightly,
trying to find its usual confident tone.
He said my name like it was still a door he could easily unlock,
as if the last nine months of lies could be brushed away with a charming smile.
I did not flinch.
I did not cry.
I simply lifted my coffee cup,
taking a slow,
deliberate sip before setting it down on the saucer with a soft click.
"Welcome,"
I said,
May you like
my voice echoing in the vast space of the penthouse.
"You are both on time for asset disclosure."
