Chapter 5 - The Sole Proprietor
The aftermath was a bloodbath, but I didn't get a single drop on my designer shoes.
Marcus’s termination sent shockwaves through the industry, but because I had excised the tumor publicly and decisively, the market responded with overwhelming support. We didn't lose a single vendor. In fact, our reservations surged. People wanted to eat at the restaurants owned by the woman who publicly executed her cheating, thieving husband on a stage.
True to my word, I didn't send Marcus to prison for the embezzlement. He surrendered his forty percent equity, leaving me with a staggering ninety percent ownership of Ember & Vine. He was stripped of his corporate cars, his expense accounts, and his dignity.
But I never said I wouldn't report him for tax evasion.
Two months after the gala, the IRS descended on Marcus like a pack of starving wolves. He had failed to claim the $540,000 in embezzled funds on his personal income taxes. The federal penalties were astronomical. To avoid prison time, he was forced to liquidate everything he owned—his sports cars, his luxury watches, and his offshore accounts. He moved into a miserable one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city, utterly bankrupt.
Marissa fared no better. The moment Marcus's accounts were frozen, he couldn't afford her rent. I filed a civil suit against her and her sister for receiving stolen corporate funds. To settle the lawsuit, Marissa had to surrender the diamond bracelet, the designer bags, and the car Marcus had bought her. She was blacklisted from the hospitality industry in three states. Last I heard, she was working the graveyard shift at a budget motel, no longer worrying about "bringing value to the table."
It was a crisp Tuesday morning in October when I finally walked into the executive suite at headquarters. The heavy, pretentious mahogany desk Marcus used to sit behind was gone, chopped into firewood at my explicit instruction. In its place was a sleek, modern glass desk that overlooked the entire city.
Nora walked in, carrying a stack of leather-bound reports. I had promoted her to Chief Financial Officer the morning after the gala, effectively doubling her salary. She deserved every penny.
"Good morning, CEO," Nora said, her eyes shining as she dropped the reports on my desk. "The Q3 numbers are finalized. We’re up eighteen percent across the board. And the West Coast expansion? Fully funded without needing a single dime of outside capital."
"Beautiful," I smiled, leaning back in my leather chair. "Any other business?"
"Just this," Nora said, handing me a crumpled envelope. "Marcus’s lawyer dropped it off. It’s a plea for a small alimony stipend. He says he can't afford groceries."
I took the envelope, feeling the thin paper between my fingers. Fourteen years ago, I would have felt pity. I would have felt the urge to fix it, to manage the crisis, to take care of him.
Instead, I slid the unopened envelope into the heavy-duty paper shredder next to my desk. The machine hummed to life, devouring his pathetic request and spitting it out as worthless confetti.
"Tell his lawyer the company is no longer accepting solicitations," I told Nora, standing up and walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
May you like
The sun was pouring over the skyline, illuminating the city I now owned a substantial piece of. There were no ghosts in my ledgers anymore. There was no dead weight dragging me down. I was the sole proprietor of my business, my wealth, and my future. And as I looked out at the empire I had saved, I realized the best part wasn't destroying my husband.
The best part was knowing he had to watch me rule without him.
