The light from the crystal chandelier stabbed at my eyes. This was Gregory Thorne’s 48th birthday party. It was also the gala celebrating the 10th anniversary of Nexus Corp’s IPO. As Mrs. Thorne, I was supposed to be wearing the emerald green couture gown he’d pointed to during Paris Fashion Week, my arm linked through his as we cut into a nine-tier fondant cake amidst a chorus of congratulations from the city’s A-list. But now that gown lay crumpled at my feet like a discarded tissue. In its place, on the glass coffee table before me, was a set of divorce papers and a four-year-old boy shrinking into Gregory’s arms, whispering, “Daddy.”
The champagne tower in the grand hall still radiated a sweet, bubbly aroma, but the air around us had frozen solid. All the guests—Gregory’s business partners, the society wives who called me Ellie dear to my face—were now watching this scene as if it were a well-rehearsed play. Their eyes were filled with a mixture of amusement, pity, and a certain smugness that screamed, We knew all along.
“Elara, don’t make a scene,” Gregory said.
He sat on the high-backed leather wingback chair, the throne of his domain, casually flicking a vintage silver lighter in his hand. He didn’t even look at me. His tone was detached, as if he were discussing a subpar quarterly report.
“This is a happy occasion. I don’t want to make it ugly. Leo is four years old. He’s the Thorne heir. He can’t be raised in the shadows forever.”
The woman, Melanie Hayes, was dressed in a simple white dress so deliberately modest it was almost an insult. At an event like this, she looked like a college intern who’d wandered into the wrong party. She knelt by Gregory’s side, one arm around the boy, Leo, the other gently tugging on Gregory’s sleeve. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her voice was pitched just loud enough for the inner circle to hear.
“Greg, don’t be like this. It’s not easy for her. If Leo and I are causing her pain, maybe I should just take him and go.”
“Go where?” Gregory’s mother, who had been observing with cold eyes from a nearby armchair, suddenly spoke.
She slammed her cane on the marble floor, the thud echoing in the silence. The old woman’s cloudy eyes were fixed on the boy, her face a mask of undisguised greed and elation.
“He is Thorne blood. I’d like to see anyone try to take him. Elara couldn’t give us a son. Does that mean no one else is allowed to carry on the Thorne name?”
I stood rooted to the spot, my nails digging so deep into my palms that I should have felt pain, but I felt nothing. The numbness had set in five years ago, when Gregory started staying out all night. The feeling had died completely three years ago, when I discovered the offshore account. I looked at this man I had shared a bed with for twenty years. Twenty years ago, he was a project manager eating takeout from a box on a construction site. I lived with him in a basement apartment, went with him to beg investors for meetings to raise his startup capital. I sold the brownstone my parents had left me. I even miscarried our first child from exhaustion. He had held me then, crying, swearing that if he ever betrayed me, he’d be struck by lightning and die a miserable death. The lightning never came, but he clearly wanted me dead and gone.
“Elara, you need to know when to quit.”
Gregory finally lifted his eyes. They held only impatience.
“What have you contributed to the company these past few years? Other than arranging flowers and hosting brunches, Nexus Corp is what it is today because I bled for it. I’m not being unfair to you.”
He pulled a single piece of paper from his jacket pocket. A check. He held it between two fingers and flicked it onto the divorce papers as if tossing a dollar to a beggar.
“$50 million. Enough for you to live out the rest of your life in luxury. The only condition is you sign now and move out of the Greenwich estate immediately. Leo’s official welcoming into the family is tomorrow. This house needs to be ready for its future heir.”
A wave of hushed whispers rippled through the crowd.
“Fifty million. Greg Thorne is really generous.”
“Yeah, she’s made out like a bandit.”
“Twenty years of youth for $50 million. Most people couldn’t earn that in ten lifetimes.”
“I’d sign in a heartbeat.”
“What if he changes his mind and she gets nothing? She’s lucky.”
“Couldn’t produce an heir, but still walks away a rich woman.”
The whispers buzzed around me like flies. Gregory’s mother, apparently thinking $50 million was too much, winced.
“Gregory, you’re too honest,” she said with a sour look. “The Thorne money didn’t grow on trees. She’s been living off us for years. Giving her that condo in the city would have been more than enough.”
“Mom, I’ve got this.”
Gregory waved her off, the picture of a man in complete control.
“I’m giving you one minute. Either take the money and leave with some dignity, or we go through the courts. And if we do that, don’t blame me for not remembering our past when my lawyers make sure you leave with nothing.”
Leave with nothing. The words were a shard of ice plunging straight into my heart. I took a deep breath, about to speak, but Melanie beat me to it. She stood holding the boy and walked toward me, handing me a glass of red wine with a posture that was meant to look humble but reeked of victory.
“Elara, I know you’re hurting, but you can’t force love. Gregory… he really wants a son. Look how much Leo looks like him. Please, just let us be a family. We will always respect you as the first Mrs. Thorne.”
The boy, Leo, clutching a greasy chicken wing, suddenly made a face at me.
“Bad witch,” he yelled in a childish lisp. “Get out of my house. Daddy gave this big house to Leo.”
An innocent child’s words? No. This was taught. Melanie’s smile was barely contained. I looked at the check. Fifty million. To an ordinary person, it was an astronomical sum. But everyone here knew Nexus Corp’s market cap exceeded $5 billion. This $50 million was a pittance, the hush money Gregory Thorne was using to buy a clear conscience and dismiss his founding wife.
“And if I don’t sign?” I finally spoke. My voice sounded as if it had been scraped by sandpaper.
Gregory’s face darkened, the veneer of civility vanishing instantly.
“Don’t sign. Don’t push it. You know my legal team. If this goes to court, I can turn every asset in your name into debt. And your daughter—the one wasting her life on some PhD abroad. Her tuition, her living expenses, her future. I won’t pay another cent.”
The mention of my daughter made my heart clench. Sophia. My Sophia. Just yesterday, she was pulling an all-nighter in her lab on the other side of the country. If she knew what was happening…
“Ha. Still counting on that good-for-nothing girl?” his mother scoffed. “We sent her to the best schools for years, and has she brought a single dollar back to this family? Our Leo—now he’s a blessing. You can just see the good fortune on him.”
“Exactly,” Gregory’s cousin chimed in. “Look at yourself. You’re old news. What’s the point of holding on to an empty marriage? Take the money, get some work done, find yourself a nice young boy toy. Why be an eyesore here?”
All the malice in the room converged into a tidal wave, threatening to drown me. I looked at the twisted faces around me. This was the family I had protected for twenty years. This was the dignity I had fought to maintain. Gregory, seeing my silence, assumed I was defeated. He sneered, picked up a pen, and slapped it on the table.
“Sign.”
