Dominic pulled back from Lauren Pike just enough to let the stage lights catch the flush on his throat, smiling that slow, proprietary grin that had once made Marin believe they were building an empire together. He turned back to the microphone, his arm still resting loosely against Lauren’s silver-draped hip, completely unbothered by the four hundred pairs of eyes fixed on the front table.

At 8:55 AM, the directors were already seated. They looked like mourners at an open-casket funeral. Julian Vance sat near the head of the table, his arms crossed, scrolling through a digital copy of the federal freeze order on his tablet. The chief financial officer looked like he was about to vomit into his briefcase.

The heavy glass door swung open.

Dominic walked in. He looked like he had aged ten years overnight. His suit was wrinkled, his hair unstyled, and dark purple shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. He had tried to salvage his image, but the morning tech blogs were already running headlines: AURELIS GRID COLLAPSES AFTER FOUNDER'S PUBLIC SCANDAL AND $30M EMBEZZLEMENT PROBE.

“Gentlemen,” Dominic croaked, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. “I know things look... complicated at the moment, but—where is Marin?”

The door opened again.

Marin walked in wearing a pristine navy blue pantsuit, carrying a slim leather portfolio. Behind her walked Arthur Pendelton and two corporate restructuring attorneys from the city’s top law firm.

She did not sit at the head of the table. She sat in the seat directly opposite Dominic.

“You’re sitting in my chair, Dominic,” Marin said simply.

Dominic stared at her, his jaw twitching. “Marin, please. Drop the legal posturing. We are married. We are partners. If you destroy Aurelis, you destroy everything we built together. Think of the shareholders! Think of the employees!”

“I am thinking of them,” Marin replied, opening her portfolio and sliding a thick stack of documents across the polished mahogany toward Julian Vance. “Which is why, as the holder of ninety-eight percent of the company’s actual collateral debt and the exclusive owner of the underlying intellectual property patents, I have initiated a voluntary chapter 11 restructuring.”

Julian picked up the top document, his eyes widening as he read the clauses. “You’re dissolving the corporate entity entirely and spinning the R&D division into an independent trust under Whitlock Holdings?”

“Correct,” Marin said without blinking. “Aurelis Grid is dead, Julian. Its assets are frozen, its accounts are seized, and its former CEO is currently under federal investigation for corporate embezzlement and IP theft.”

Dominic slammed his hands down on the table, standing up so fast his chair crashed backward onto the floor.

“You can’t do that!” Dominic roared, spittle flying from his lips, his carefully cultivated charm completely evaporated into pure, feral rage. “I founded this company! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into every single battery cell! You’re just a rich girl playing with her grandfather’s money! Without me, you’re nothing!”

The room went dead silent.

Not a single director looked at Dominic. They all looked at Marin.

Marin didn't yell. She didn't stand up. She simply looked at her husband with the quiet, devastating pity one might reserve for a stray dog found digging through the garbage.

“Dominic,” Marin said softly, her voice carrying effortlessly across the silent room. “Ten years ago, you had a worn-out Honda Civic, three maxed-out credit cards, and a half-baked idea about battery chemistry that you couldn't even code. I didn't fund your company because you were a genius.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“I funded it because I thought you were honest. That was my only miscalculation. And it’s a mistake I corrected last night.”