The silence in the master suite of the Gold Coast penthouse was heavier than the sleet driving against the floor-to-ceiling windows. / Chapter 6 / 15

Chapter 6 - Across the TableThe top-floor conference room of Northstar Dominion’s Chicago tower offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of the frozen lake, but inside, the atmosphere was as sterile and unforgiving as a surgical suite.

Adrian was escorted through the double doors by two armed private security guards. He expected to find a tribunal of grim-faced board members, hostile lawyers, and perhaps Odessa Crane herself.

Instead, when he stepped inside, the room was mostly empty.

Sitting at the far end of a massive, black quartz conference table was Camille.

She wore a charcoal tailored dress, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek, flawless knot. There was no wedding ring on her finger—only a heavy, modern gold band bearing the Northstar crest on her right hand. She wasn't looking at files or reviewing briefs; she was slowly stirring a cup of black coffee, her expression utterly serene, detached, and terrifyingly calm.

Adrian stopped ten feet away. His throat felt like sandpaper.

"Camille," he croaked, the name feeling foreign and heavy on his tongue.

She didn't look up immediately. She took a slow sip of her coffee, set the porcelain cup down with a soft clink, and finally raised her eyes. Her gaze was clear, sharp, and entirely devoid of the warmth, the patience, or the forgiveness he had taken for granted for ten long years.

"Sit down, Adrian," she said. Her voice was quiet, steady, and carried an absolute authority that made his knees weaken.

Adrian swallowed hard and pulled out a chair opposite her, lowering himself gingerly into the seat. "You... you engineered all of this," he managed to say, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to sound defiant. "The audits, the hostile takeover, the press leaks... you planned this while we were still married."

"No, Adrian," Camille corrected softly, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers together. "I gave you seven years of loyalty, protection, and uncredited brilliance. I built your safety net, and every single time I tried to help you steer away from disaster, you called me anxious. You let another woman erase me in public, and you told me not to start when I asked for basic respect."

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto his with a laser-like intensity.

"I didn't plan your destruction, Adrian. I simply stopped protecting you from the consequences of your own arrogance."

Adrian stared at her, the brutal truth of her words finally piercing the armor of his narcissism. The man who had thought himself a generational titan felt small, naked, and utterly insignificant.

"What do you want?" Adrian whispered. "The firm is gone. Blackwell & Rourke is bankrupt. What else is left to take?"