The morning after my return, Richard Sterling was on top of the world. He walked into his office, the scent of victory clinging to him like expensive cologne. His employees looked at him with a new level of reverence. The news of the impending deal had already started to leak, and he was being hailed as a visionary, a genius. He had never felt more powerful.
He spent the morning fielding calls from ecstatic investors and smirking at the fawning emails flooding his inbox. The only lingering annoyance was Jane. She still hadn't called. Her phone was still disconnected. He'd have to hire a private investigator to find her, he thought with a sigh. It was a ridiculous expense, but he needed to get the divorce paperwork started so he could be free when the money came through.
He was in the middle of a call with his primary investor, painting a glorious picture of their shared future, when his executive assistant, a nervous young woman named Chloe, timidly knocked on his open door.
"Mr. Sterling? I'm so sorry to interrupt," she stammered. "But there's a man here to see you. He says it's urgent."
Richard scowled, covering the receiver. "I'm in a meeting. Tell him to make an appointment."
"He says it's a legal matter, sir. He's a process server."
Richard's irritation spiked. A lawsuit? Now? Some disgruntled former employee, probably. "Fine. Give me a minute." He quickly wrapped up his call, promising to talk later, and hung up, his good mood souring.
He strode out to the reception area, his face a mask of impatient authority. A nondescript man in a rumpled suit stood waiting, holding a large manila envelope.
"Richard Sterling?" the man asked, his voice monotone.
"Yes. What is this about?" Richard demanded, his tone clipped.
The man didn't answer. He simply handed the envelope to Richard. "You've been served."
Richard snatched the envelope from the man's hand, already dismissing him. He tore it open as he walked back toward his office, Chloe and a few other employees watching with curious eyes. He expected to see the letterhead of some small, ambulance-chasing law firm.
He did not.
The letterhead was a heavy, cream-colored bond, exquisitely embossed with a single, iconic 'T' inside a crest. It was the mark of Thorne & Associates, the most powerful, most feared corporate law firm in the country. A firm that didn't handle petty lawsuits. A firm that handled wars between empires.
A cold knot of confusion tightened in his stomach. Why would they be contacting him?
He pulled out the sheaf of documents. The top page was a petition for the dissolution of marriage. His eyes scanned the legalese, looking for the petitioner's name. He expected to see Jane Sterling.
The name he saw made the world tilt on its axis.
Petitioner: Eliza Marianne Thorne.
He stared at the name, his brain refusing to process it. Eliza Thorne. It couldn't be. He read it again. And again. The name was followed by a list of assets and holdings that made his head spin, a portfolio that could buy and sell his entire company a thousand times over.
He staggered into his office and sank into his leather chair, the papers trembling in his hand. He fumbled to the next page. It was a formal resignation letter.
"This letter serves as official notice of my resignation from any and all formal and informal roles within Sterling Innovations, effective immediately."
It was signed with a flourish, a signature that was as elegant and confident as the woman he'd seen at the gala with Marcus.
Eliza Thorne.
The name echoed in the silent, spinning room. Jane. His sweet, simple, boring Jane. His lucky charm. His little mouse.
He thought back to every moment she had "accidentally" saved him. Every "simple" observation that had altered the course of his company. Every strategy she had helped him prepare. It hadn't been luck. It hadn't been naivety. It had been the calculated, brilliant maneuvering of a corporate heiress playing a part.
The blood drained from his face, leaving behind a cold, clammy sweat. The woman he had discarded, the woman he and Serena had mocked and planned to leave with nothing, wasn't a nobody. She wasn't Jane Doe.
She was the heir to the Thorne empire.
And she was coming for him.
The phone on his desk began to ring, shrill and demanding in the sudden, terrifying silence. He looked at the caller ID. It was his primary investor, the man he had just been charming. He didn't answer. He couldn't. He just stared at the name on the paper, the first shot in a war he now realized he had no possible way of winning.
Eliza Thorne.
His world had just ended. He just hadn't known it until now.