Chapter 4 - The Final Chapter
Two days later, I was discharged.
I did not wear hospital scrubs. I had Alana bring me the clothes I had arrived in: a tailored cream cashmere sweater and black trousers. I applied my favorite lipstick. I stood in the lobby of the hospital, waiting for my private car, feeling the sharp, grounding pain of my stitches.
Through the glass doors, I saw Graham’s black SUV skid to a halt in the drop-off zone.
He practically fell out of the vehicle. His charcoal suit was wrinkled. His hair was a mess. The polished restraint was completely gone, replaced by a frantic, breathless panic.
He ran through the automatic doors and stopped in front of me, his chest heaving.
"What did you do?" he gasped, ignoring the nurses and patients staring at us. "Maddie, the bank just called in the loans. The site is padlocked. My father is threatening to disinherit me. The holding company—"
"The holding company is exercising its right to recall the debt due to breach of fiduciary trust," I interrupted smoothly, adjusting my cashmere scarf.
Graham stared at me, his mouth opening and closing. "You... you own the debt. You planned this."
"I planned for our future, Graham," I said, my voice echoing slightly in the sterile lobby. "I protected you when you were smart enough to be my husband. But you decided you wanted to be a different person."
"Maddie, please," he begged, the arrogant hotel heir reduced to a terrified boy. "I'll leave her. I'll take the ring back. Celeste means nothing, it was a mistake—"
"Don't insult her," I said coldly. "She is the mother of your child. You chose her."
"I have nothing!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "The Elowen was my entire portfolio! If you pull the funding, I am bankrupt!"
"Then you should probably ask Celeste if she knows how to budget," I replied softly.
My black town car pulled up to the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the door for me.
Graham reached out, desperate, trying to grab my arm. My driver stepped between us smoothly, a silent, imposing wall of muscle.
I paused at the door of the car and looked back at the man who had held my hand while I bled, only to plan his new life with another woman.
"Celeste was right about one thing," I said, looking at his bare, trembling hands. "Some women are meant to be chosen."
I offered him a final, razor-sharp smile.
May you like
"And others own the board."
I stepped into the car, leaving Graham Whitaker standing in the hospital lobby with my medical bills, a pregnant mistress, and a shattered empire.
