Chapter 8 - THE SCREEN OF TRUTH
The rooftop of The Glass House was quiet,
but it was not the quiet of peace,
it was the quiet of shock.
The investors stood in small groups,
whispering among themselves,
their faces serious as they discussed the legal implications of what they had seen.
Daniel walked over to the lead investor,
a man named Marcus Vance,
who had been a friend of my father’s.
Marcus looked up at me,
a dry,
humorous smile touching his lips.
“You always were the smart one,
Claire,”
he said,
his voice deep,
carrying the weight of decades in the business.
“Your father would have been proud of tonight.”
“Thank you,
Marcus,”
I said,
stepping down from the stage,
feeling the tension finally begin to leave my shoulders.
“The transition will be smooth,
I promise you that.”
“We have the transition team ready,
and the financial gap has already been covered by my personal trust.”
Marcus nodded,
reassured by my preparation,
knowing that the company was in safer hands than it had been in years.
“I never liked him,”
Marcus muttered,
looking toward the elevator where Nathaniel had disappeared.
“He had the ambition of a giant,
but the character of a thief.”
I smiled,
knowing that many in the room had felt the same way,
but had been too polite,
or too greedy,
to say it aloud.
They had tolerated his arrogance because he made them money,
but now that his fraud had been exposed,
their loyalty was gone.
I walked toward the edge of the roof,
looking out over the city,
the cold wind catching the fabric of my black dress.
Beneath me,
the lights of the traffic moved like rivers of gold,
constant,
unstopping,
indifferent to the drama of the people above.
I felt a sudden sense of lightness,
as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my chest.
The red dress was gone,
the marriage was over,
but I was still standing,
stronger than I had ever been.
Daniel came to stand beside me,
two glasses of water in his hands,
offering one to me.
“They are downstairs now,”
he said,
his voice quiet.
“The police are taking the corporate espionage files,
and Nathaniel’s lawyer is already refusing to answer calls.”
“And Sienna?”
I asked,
taking a sip of the cool water.
“She is crying in the lobby,”
Daniel replied.
“She tried to tell the officers that she was just the model,
but her signature is on the patent applications.”
“She will have to explain that to a judge.”
I closed my eyes for a moment,
remembering the young girl who had arrived at our office two years ago,
looking for an internship.
I had been the one who hired her,
who saw potential in her,
who gave her a chance.
And she had used that chance to creep into my home,
to take my husband,
and to try and steal my life.
May you like
It was a harsh lesson,
but one she had earned.
