Chapter 2 - The Shattered Mirror
The penthouse overlooking Central Park had been designed by my personal architect, paid for by my private accounts, and registered under a holding company that Aaron didn't even know existed. To him, it was simply "our home"—a place where he expected dinner to be prepared by Michelin-starred chefs, where his laundry was pressed to military perfection, and where I waited patiently for his late-night returns from "working meetings" with Jasmine.
When I entered the foyer, my personal assistant, Clara, was already waiting with a tablet in hand. Behind her, a team of six men in black suits were methodically packing my personal wardrobe, fine art, and private files into aluminum shipping crates.
"Report, Clara," I said, stepping past the grand piano and removing my pearl necklace.
"The market reaction has been instantaneous, Alyssa," Clara replied, her voice crisp and efficiency incarnate. "The moment the SEC received the notice of default regarding the $1.5 billion loan, trading on Prescott Global stock was suspended. Pre-market indicators suggest a seventy percent drop the moment the bell rings tomorrow morning."
"And the board?"
"They are currently stuck on the tarmac in Hangar 4," Clara smiled faintly. "Aaron's legal team attempted to file an emergency injunction to release the aircraft, but Captain Vance presented the original bill of sale for the Gulfstream. The aircraft belongs to your private fleet. They are currently being escorted off the airfield by airport security on foot."
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking out over the hazy Manhattan skyline. The city was cruel to men who built their lives on illusions. Aaron had believed his own press releases. He had allowed the financial magazines to print covers labeling him "The Tech Titan of the Decade" while I sat quietly in the background, playing the dutiful, silent wife at charity galas.
My phone rang. The screen displayed my mother-in-law's name: Evelyn Prescott.
I answered, placing the phone on speaker as I picked up a glass of ice water.
"Alyssa!" Evelyn’s voice shrieked through the speaker, high-pitched and hysterical. "What is the meaning of this barbarism?! We are being treated like common criminals! Security guards just forced us into a shuttle bus! Aaron is having a panic attack!"
"Hello, Evelyn," I said smoothly. "I hope the shuttle bus is comfortable. Row five was unavailable, so I assumed you wouldn't mind sitting anywhere you could find room."
"You spiteful, arrogant little brat!" Evelyn raged, her composure completely shattered. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! Aaron was on his way to sign the takeover of the Yamato Group! This delay could cost his company billions! You will ruin my son!"
"Correction, Evelyn," I said, my tone as cold as glacier ice. "I didn't ruin your son. I simply stopped paying for his life. Aaron didn't build Prescott Global. My money bought the servers. My family's connections secured his government contracts. My patents run his software. He was never a tech genius. He was merely an actor playing a role funded by my trust."
"You... you signed a prenup!" Evelyn spat, though a tremble of fear had crept into her voice.
"I did," I replied with a soft laugh. "A prenup drafted by my attorneys to protect my assets. It explicitly states that in the event of marital infidelity or disrespect that compromises the reputation of the Sterling estate, all co-mingled assets revert instantly to the primary trust, and all corporate loans become due within twenty-four hours."
Silence stretched over the line—a heavy, suffocating silence as Evelyn finally understood the magnitude of the trap her son had walked into.
"He... he didn't cheat on you," she stammered weakly. "Jasmine is just his assistant..."
"Save it for the divorce court, Evelyn," I said. "And tell Aaron that if he wants to speak to me, he can do so through my lead litigator, Lord Thomas Sterling. Good day."
I hung up and handed the phone back to Clara.
"Has Jasmine's background check been finalized?" I asked.
Clara pulled up a document on her tablet. "Yes, ma'am. It's far more interesting than we anticipated. Jasmine isn't just an ambitious secretary. For the past six months, she has been leaking internal Prescott Global technical schematics to a rival firm based in Singapore—Vanguard Technologies."
I raised an eyebrow. "And who owns Vanguard Technologies?"
"A shell company registered in the Cayman Islands," Clara said, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Directly controlled by Arthur Pendelton—your husband's chief rival."
I took a slow sip of my water, a cold smile touching my lips. Aaron hadn't just humiliated me; he had welcomed a viper into his inner sanctum, fed her peeled oranges, and given her my seat, completely oblivious to the fact that she was actively gutting his company from the inside.
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"Keep that information buried for now," I instructed. "Let Aaron rely on her for support while his world burns. I want him to run to her, trust her, and rely on her as his company collapses. Then, when he thinks he has hit absolute rock bottom, we will let him find out who she really works for."
"Understood, Alyssa," Clara bowed slightly. "The car to the Sterling Tower is ready. Your father is waiting for you in the boardroom."
