Chapter 8
The air in the office turned to stone.
Gene stepped fully into the room. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as she bypassed the sofa and walked straight toward Alvie's massive desk.
Gail was the first to recover. She forced tears into her eyes, her lower lip trembling violently.
"Gene, please!" Gail sobbed, her voice shaking. "It's not what it looks like! I was drunk, he forced me-"
Gene didn't even look at her. She reached out and grabbed the half-full bottle of Macallan whiskey sitting on Alvie's desk.
She unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle over.
The amber liquid poured out, splashing directly onto the stack of highly confidential merger documents spread across the desk. The ink bled instantly.
Alvie snapped out of his shock. He lunged forward, frantically trying to pull his pants up.
"Are you crazy? !" Alvie bellowed, his face turning purple with rage. "Do you know how much those documents are worth? !"
Gene slammed the heavy glass bottle down onto the edge of the desk.
The bottle shattered. Glass shards exploded outward. One sharp piece sliced across the back of Alvie's hand.
Alvie hissed in pain and stumbled back, clutching his bleeding hand. He looked up at Gene, and the pure, unfiltered hatred in her eyes made his blood run cold. The terrifying premonition of his nightmare-losing her and losing his empire-slammed into his chest.
"We are done, Alvie," Gene said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "Have your lawyers draft the divorce papers."
The word 'divorce' hit Alvie like a physical blow. The color drained completely from his face. The vision of himself sleeping on the streets flashed in his mind.
"No!" Alvie shouted, his voice cracking with panic. He reached out, trying to grab her arm.
Gene swatted his hand away like it was a diseased rat.
"I will not sign anything!" Alvie babbled, his breathing erratic. "I'll give you the penthouse! I'll double your trust fund shares! Just calm down!"
Gail gasped from the sofa. She stared at Alvie in disbelief. He had promised to throw Gene out on the street today.
"Alvie!" Gail cried out.
Alvie spun around and pointed a bloody finger at the mistress. "Shut your mouth, you whore! Get out of my office! You're fired!"
Gail burst into genuine, hysterical tears.
Gene watched the pathetic display with utter disgust. He was willing to throw anyone under the bus to save his own skin.
"Keep your dirty money," Gene sneered. "I want nothing from you but my freedom. And I am going to make you pay for this."
Alvie's panic morphed back into vicious anger. He bared his teeth.
"You think you can survive without me?" Alvie threatened, his voice shaking. "You'll have nothing! I'll make sure you're blacklisted from every social circle in New York!"
Gene laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound.
"Let's see who ends up bankrupt and begging on the streets first," Gene whispered.
The words struck Alvie's deepest, darkest fear. He froze completely, his eyes wide, sweat beading on his forehead. He couldn't speak.
Gene turned on her heel and walked out of the office.
As she passed the side table in the hallway, she picked up the insulated lunchbox. She walked over to the large trash can by the elevator and dropped it in.
It hit the bottom with a loud, hollow thud.
Gene stepped into the elevator and pressed the lobby button. She didn't look back.
From the shadows of the corridor, Donte stepped out. He watched the elevator doors close, a dark, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his lead attorney.
"Pull a complete risk assessment report on Alvie's personal assets and leveraged investments. Immediately," Donte ordered, his voice cold and ruthless. "And freeze any unauthorized cash flow he's siphoning from the family trust. I want him to understand the cost of his indiscretions within thirty days."
He hung up the phone and walked toward his private elevator, leaving the sounds of Alvie destroying his office behind him.
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