Chapter 8 - The Ashes of GreenwichBack in New York, the Greenwich town house felt like a mausoleum.
Preston stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his master study, a half-empty glass of scotch resting in his trembling hand. The living room was half-empty; Althia’s courier service had efficiently stripped every trace of her existence from the house three days ago. Her books, her artwork, her subtle touches of elegance—all gone, leaving behind hollow echoes and bare walls.
The door behind him creaked open.
Cecily walked in. She looked exhausted, her makeup smeared, wearing an oversized sweater that swallowed her frame.
"Your father's lawyers called," Cecily said quietly, her voice devoid of any warmth.
Preston didn't turn around. "What did they say?"
"Uncle Arthur is stepping in as interim CEO. The board voted unanimously this morning to strip you of your executive vice presidency." Cecily paused, swallowing hard. "And... they're filing for a financial audit of your personal accounts. They suspect you funneled foundation grants into your personal LLC last year."
Preston let out a harsh, bitter laugh. He turned around, his eyes bloodshot and hollow. "Of course they are. Why wouldn't they? I'm a liability now. The golden boy is tarnished."
Cecily walked over to the mahogany desk, pulling a white envelope from her pocket and laying it gently on the wood.
Preston looked down at it. "What's this?"
"It's not from your uncle," Cecily said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's from my lawyer."
Preston stared at the envelope, a sudden cold chill sweeping through his veins. "What are you talking about?"
"We've been married for less than two weeks, Preston," Cecily said, looking at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. "And my life is already completely ruined. My reputation in social circles is in tatters. Everyone knows what we did. My family won't even take my calls. And you... you look at me every day like I'm the ghost of the woman you actually wanted."
"Cecily, wait—"
"I filed for an annulment this morning," Cecily said firmly, cutting him off. "Fraudulent inducement and bad faith. My lawyer says we can have it dissolved by the end of the month if neither of us contests it."
Preston didn't yell. He didn't argue. He simply set his glass down on the desk, the ice clinking softly against the crystal.
"You're leaving?" Preston asked, his voice hollow.
"There was never anything here, Preston," Cecily said, turning toward the door. "We built a house of cards on a foundation of lies, and we were stupid enough to think we could live in it. Althia was right about us. We deserve every bit of this."
May you like
The door clicked shut.
Preston stood alone in the center of the sprawling, empty room. The silence around him was deafening—a permanent monument to the day he thought he could outsmart the only woman who had ever truly loved him.
Related Stories
