Chapter 4 - The Total Divestment
Arthur did not allow Gavin to touch me. He shifted slightly, placing his broad shoulder between me and my soon-to-be ex-husband, a physical barrier of pure, unadulterated capital and power.
"Richard," Arthur called out, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.
Richard Sterling, the CEO of Bellwether Advisory, separated himself from the crowd. He was a tall, austere man who looked as though he had swallowed a lemon. He had been watching the exchange with growing horror.
"Arthur," Richard said, his tone cautious. "This seems to be a private domestic matter. Perhaps we should step into a side office—"
"This is not a domestic matter, Richard," Arthur interrupted smoothly, reaching into the breast pocket of his midnight-blue tuxedo. He retrieved a sleek, encrypted silver flash drive and held it out. "This is a severe breach of corporate fiduciary duty. This drive contains time-stamped proof that your Senior Vice President of Corporate Transformation, along with her junior lapdog, have been leveraging internal Bellwether acquisition data to execute short-sells through offshore proxy accounts."
Richard’s face went entirely white. He did not take the drive immediately. He stared at it as if it were a venomous snake.
"I have already forwarded copies of this data to my personal legal team," Arthur continued, his voice echoing in the silent ballroom. "And, out of respect for our long-standing professional relationship, Richard, I am giving you this copy. You have exactly twenty-four hours to terminate both of them, seize their corporate hardware, and report the infractions to the SEC. If you attempt to bury this to protect the firm's reputation, I will personally hand the duplicates to the Wall Street Journal by Tuesday morning."
Richard finally reached out and took the flash drive, his hand trembling slightly. He looked at Veronica, his eyes filled with a cold, absolute corporate fury. Veronica did not try to defend herself. She knew that in Arthur’s world, evidence was absolute. She was calculating her severance, her legal defense, her survival.
Gavin, however, had no such resilience. He collapsed inward. The tuxedo I bought him suddenly looked three sizes too big. He looked at me, tears welling in his eyes, the absolute terror of a man who realized he was about to lose his job, his wife, his freedom, and his entire identity in the span of three minutes.
"You ruined me," Gavin whispered, his voice cracking. "Bethany... you ruined my life."
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I looked at him, feeling absolutely nothing. The empathy, the love, the devotion—it had all been burned away weeks ago, leaving only cold, architectural precision.
"No, Gavin," I corrected him softly. "You built the bomb. I simply refused to be standing in the room when you finally decided to light the fuse."
