Chapter 6 - He Tried to Destroy the Last Thing I Loved
I had survived public humiliation.
Financial fraud.
The collapse of a marriage.
But the embryo motion broke through every layer of control I had built.
I sat alone inside my office after Natalie left.
Two embryos.
Small clusters of cells created during a year when Jason still held my hand during injections.
We had named neither.
That had been intentional.
Names felt too dangerous.
The clinic stored them under a number.
Jason’s motion said continued preservation caused him emotional distress and interfered with his future family.
His future family.
Madison.
The baby.
The life he had chosen.
Apparently, my possibility had become inconvenient.
Natalie wanted to fight.
“We have a strong argument,” she said.
“The clinic consent form says both parties must agree to use, but either can request continued storage during divorce.”
“How long?”
“Until final judgment or further order.”
“So he cannot destroy them tomorrow.”
“No.”
Relief came slowly.
“Why file now?”
“Pressure.”
“He wants money.”
“Or the fraud investigation softened.”
“Same thing.”
Jason’s attorney sent a settlement proposal that evening.
He would withdraw the embryo motion if I agreed to three conditions.
No cooperation with criminal investigators beyond legally required testimony.
No pursuit of his stock-option clawback.
And five million dollars in cash.
I read the proposal twice.
Then handed it back to Natalie.
“He is extorting me.”
“He will call it settlement negotiation.”
“Using embryos.”
“Yes.”
“What happens if I refuse?”
“We litigate.”
“Refuse.”
Natalie nodded.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
My voice broke for the first time.
“But refuse.”
That night, I drove to my parents’ old house in Winnetka.
My mother had died eight years earlier.
My father lived in Florida most of the year but kept the house.
I let myself into my childhood bedroom and sat on the floor.
No advisers.
No chief of staff.
No billion-dollar decisions.
Just me.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Not only for the embryos.
For the years.
For every injection.
For the second pregnancy, when I had begun buying books and hiding them in a closet.
For the hospital room where Jason whispered, “We still have each other.”
He had known exactly where the deepest wound lived.
And he chose to press there because he wanted stock options.
My father called at midnight.
Elena had apparently told him enough to worry.
“You home?” he asked.
“At the old house.”
“I figured.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making you worry.”
He laughed softly.
“You are forty years old and still apologize when someone loves you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Dad.”
“What did he do?”
I told him.
He was silent for a long time.
Then he said, “Do you want those embryos because you still want a child, or because losing them feels like losing what the marriage was supposed to be?”
The question hurt.
“I don’t know.”
“Then you do not have to decide tonight.”
“Jason wants to decide for me.”
“That is different.”
I looked toward the old photographs on the shelf.
“You never liked him.”
“I liked him when you did.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“You would have defended him.”
He was right.
“I thought his insecurity would improve when he became successful,” Dad said.
“It got worse.”
“Success does not heal what someone believes they are owed.”
I stayed at the house until morning.
When I returned to the city, I made three decisions.
First, the embryo case would be handled privately.
No press.
No strategic leaks.
No attempt to humiliate Jason with it.
Second, I would cooperate fully with investigators regardless of settlement pressure.
Third, the investment committee would accelerate the Caldwell transaction under new governance so Jason could no longer threaten employees by claiming I was destroying the company.
The new structure was announced three days later.
Sullivan Strategic Partners would invest the full one-point-four billion.
But the money would bypass executive bonus pools.
Part would fund NovaDyne.
Part would refinance Caldwell’s exposed debt.
And one hundred million dollars would establish employee retention and equity grants.
The market reacted positively.
Caldwell’s largest clients renewed commitments.
Nine thousand employees stopped wondering whether they needed new jobs.
Jason’s public argument collapsed.
Then federal investigators arrived at his Winnetka mansion.
Not Madison’s house.
His.
The property had become central evidence.
Search warrants recovered personal ledgers, undisclosed accounts, and a second phone.
On the phone were messages between Jason and Madison.
One message was dated two days before the gala.
Jason:
She’ll never hit you if you’re pregnant.
Madison:
You sure?
Jason:
Rebecca cares too much about appearances.
Madison:
And if she does?
Jason:
Even better.
I stared at the message.
The slap had been planned.
Madison was supposed to provoke me.
Jason wanted a video of me striking a pregnant woman.
He had told her to do it.
Madison replied:
Then you announce the divorce?
Jason:
Yes. Make it look like I had no choice.
My hands went cold.
The entire gala confrontation had been staged.
My retaliation had nearly given them exactly what they wanted.
Then the next message appeared.
Madison:
What about Sullivan money?
Jason:
Rebecca separates business from emotion. She’ll still fund NovaDyne.
I leaned back.
He had calculated every piece.
The affair.
The pregnancy announcement.
The slap.
The divorce threat.
The investment.
Except one.
He did not know I had already filed.
By afternoon, Madison’s attorney requested a meeting with federal investigators.
She wanted to cooperate.
Jason had apparently stopped paying her legal bills after termination.
He had also transferred the Winnetka property into another trust, removing her promised ownership.
The woman he said he loved had become expendable the moment she stopped helping him win.
I felt no satisfaction.
Only recognition.
Madison had believed she was replacing me.
She had not understood that Jason did not want partners.
He wanted people useful enough to stand beside him until their usefulness became expensive.
A week later, she asked to meet me.
I refused at first.
Then Natalie said, “She claims she has evidence about the embryo motion.”
I agreed.
Madison entered the conference room wearing a loose black dress.
Her pregnancy was obvious now.
No silver gown.
No cameras.
No arrogance.
She sat across from me.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry I hit you.”
“I’m sorry I hit you back.”
She looked surprised.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Madison lowered her eyes.
“Jason told me you were controlling him. He said you threatened to destroy his career if he left.”
“He lied.”
“I know.”
“Did that make it acceptable to mock my miscarriages?”
Her face tightened.
“No.”
“Then do not use him to excuse what you chose.”
She nodded.
“I won’t.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she opened her bag.
“Jason didn’t file the embryo motion because he wants them destroyed.”
“Why did he?”
“He wants Sullivan money.”
“I know.”
“No. More than the settlement.”
She placed printed messages on the table.
Jason had told his attorney he believed I would pay as much as twenty-five million dollars to preserve the embryos.
One message read:
It’s the only asset she’ll negotiate emotionally.
I felt physically sick.
Madison whispered, “That was when I realized he would do the same thing to my son someday.”
I looked at her belly.
“Your son?”
She nodded.
“DNA confirmed.”
Jason was the father.
“I’m leaving Chicago after he’s born.”
“That may be wise.”
“I will testify.”
“Then tell the truth.”
Madison stood.
At the door, she paused.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“He never deserved either of us.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
Then I added, “But you and I still owe accountability for what we did to each other.”
May you like
She nodded.
That was the last honest conversation we ever had.
