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Chapter 3

I stood outside Nathan's office—my father's office—my heart hammering against my ribs. Valeria had left to gather some files, leaving me alone in the hallway with my thoughts and the growing knot of dread in my stomach. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear voices inside—intimate, hushed tones that made my skin crawl.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

Time seemed to slow as the scene before me registered in my mind. Nathan stood with his back against the desk, his suit jacket unbuttoned. Robin was pressed against him, her hands flat against his chest, fingers splayed possessively across the silk of his shirt. His arms were around her waist, pulling her closer with a familiarity that made my stomach lurch.

They broke apart when I entered, but not quickly enough. Not guiltily enough.

"Claire," Nathan said, his voice steady despite being caught in such an intimate moment. "I thought you'd gone home."

Robin's lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. "We were just discussing the Henderson account," she said, not bothering to step away from Nathan.

I could see the lie in the way they stood, in the way Robin's fingers lingered at the collar of Nathan's shirt.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice surprisingly calm despite the earthquake happening inside me.

Nathan's eyebrows rose slightly. "Don't be ridiculous, Claire. You're upset about your father—"

"I want a divorce," I repeated, louder this time. "And if you think I'll quietly disappear while you take over my family's company with your mistress, you're wrong. I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of man Nathan Carlson really is."

Robin laughed then, a tinkling sound like breaking glass. "And who would believe you? The pathetic, barren wife who couldn't even keep her husband interested?"

The words hit like physical blows. My multiple miscarriages—each one a devastating loss—reduced to a weapon for her to wield against me.

"You have nothing, Claire," Nathan said, his tone dismissive as he moved to stand beside Robin. "No power, no evidence, no allies. The board respects me. Your father trusted me to run this company."

"Did he?" I asked, something dangerous rising within me. "Or did you manipulate him too?"

I moved toward his desk, my eyes catching on the stack of documents there—the Henderson project that Robin had mentioned. The project Nathan had been working on for months, the one he'd claimed would secure our future.

Without thinking, I grabbed the papers and turned toward the fireplace in the corner of the office.

"Claire, don't be childish," Nathan snapped, reaching for my arm.

I evaded his grasp and threw the documents into the crackling fire. The pages caught immediately, edges curling and blackening as flames consumed months of Nathan's work.

"Stop it!" he shouted, lunging forward.

But it was too late. The papers were already reduced to ash and embers.

"You think you've built something here?" I asked, watching the flames consume his precious project. "Everything you have is because of my family. Everything you've built is on my foundation."

The slap came without warning—Nathan's hand connecting with my cheek with enough force to snap my head to the side. The sound echoed in the suddenly silent office.

"You're insane," he hissed, his face contorted with rage.

I tasted blood where my teeth had cut into my cheek, but I didn't touch the spot. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Get out," he ordered, straightening his cuffs as if nothing had happened. "Security will escort you from the building."

I became aware of faces appearing in the doorway—office staff drawn by the commotion, their expressions ranging from shock to morbid fascination.

"Call security," Nathan instructed someone in the hallway, his voice returning to its usual authoritative tone.

As if on cue, Robin moved to his side, her arm sliding possessively through his. "She's been unstable for years," she stage-whispered to no one in particular. "Poor thing can't even have children. No wonder he found comfort elsewhere."

I stood perfectly still as two security guards appeared at my elbows. The humiliation burned hotter than the fire consuming Nathan's documents.

"This isn't over," I promised, looking directly into Nathan's eyes as the guards began to escort me toward the elevator.

His smile was cold and confident. "Yes, Claire. It is."

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