Chapter 5 - The Ex-Husband’s Dirty Contract
At 8:00 PM that evening, the living room downstairs became the stage for a clandestine business meeting.
Through the encrypted tablet resting on Garrett’s lap in the locked master bedroom, we watched the live 4K stream from the study camera in razor-sharp clarity.
Douglas Corbin sat behind Garrett’s antique mahogany desk, wearing a tailored Italian linen blazer, his feet propped arrogantly on the leather desk blotter.
Sitting across from him in the leather armchairs were two men wearing sharp business suits.
My heart slammed violently against my sternum. The blood drained from my face until my lips felt numb.
The man sitting on the left, holding a leather folio, was Christopher Miller—my ex-husband.
Beside Christopher sat Brenda Thorne—the junior marketing executive he had cheated on me with, now wearing a diamond tennis bracelet that had certainly been purchased with our drained marital savings.
“Mr. Corbin,” Christopher spoke, his familiar voice carrying through the tablet’s high-fidelity speakers with that oily, rehearsed sales charm I had listened to for twelve years. “As Vice President of Corporate Acquisitions at ApexBio Solutions, I can confirm our board has formally approved the transaction parameters.”
Christopher leaned forward, opening the leather folio on the desk.
“ApexBio will acquire the exclusive global manufacturing and distribution license for NeuroCure for sixty-five million dollars in cash,” Christopher explained with a triumphant grin. “We route the intellectual property through our Caribbean holding subsidiary, ApexBio Offshore LLC. Douglas, your twenty-percent consulting retainer—thirteen million dollars—will be wired directly to your escrow account in Zurich within forty-eight hours of board ratification.”
Douglas chuckled, leaning back and blowing a cloud of cigar smoke toward the ceiling.
“And my brother’s medical proxy?” Douglas asked, pouring three fingers of Scotch.
“Our corporate legal counsel reviewed the filings this morning,” Brenda chimed in, crossing her legs with a smirk. “Under Georgia commercial code, with Dr. Vance’s certified declaration of permanent cognitive and physical incapacitation, the emergency board assembly tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM will pass the resolution with zero resistance. Garrett Corbin will remain a figurehead president in a nursing retreat, while we split the future of biotechnology.”
Douglas raised his crystal glass. “To progress. And to knowing when to push an old dog out of the race.”
Christopher and Brenda clinked their glasses against his, laughing in mutual, parasitic triumph.
“And what about that little domestic disturbance of yours, Christopher?” Douglas asked casually. “Your divorce from that former secretary?”
Christopher scoffed, waving his hand in dismissive disgust. “Rebecca? Please. She was an anchor around my neck for twelve years. An uneducated, barren housewife who spent her life wiping counters. My mother finally convinced me to throw her out. Last I heard, she was working as a low-level live-in nurse somewhere in the city for hourly wages. She has no money, no connections, and zero future. She will die alone in a rented room.”
Beside me on the bed, Garrett’s amber eyes turned into two blazing balls of incandescent fury.
He slowly set the tablet onto the nightstand.
His large, calloused hand reached across the mattress, taking my trembling hand in his. He squeezed my fingers with an intensity that made the gold band on his pinky ring press into my palm.
“Did you hear that, Rebecca?” Garrett whispered in a voice so cold, so terrifyingly calm, that the hairs on my arms stood on end.
“I heard him,” I replied, tears of righteous, burning vindication spilling over my eyelashes.
Garrett slowly pushed back the cashmere blanket covering his legs.
He planted both bare feet flat onto the hardwood floor. He gripped the edge of the mattress, engaged his core, and rose smoothly to his full, towering height of six-foot-two.
He stood before me—broad-shouldered, majestic, an undisputed titan whose strength had never broken.
He looked down at me, extending his hand.
May you like
“Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, Rebecca,” Garrett said, his voice ringing with the majesty of an executioner stepping onto the scaffold. “We are going to introduce your ex-husband to his new employer.”
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