Evelyn's fingers hovered momentarily over the laptop's power button, a sharp breath escaping her as she contemplated the stillness of the night. The digital glow of the clock read just past midnight, adding a haunting luminescence to the room that should have been dark, conducive to sleep. Reluctantly, she pressed the button, the screen flickering to life and casting a pale light across her face. Work was the only antidote for her restlessness—a potion she'd brew for herself on nights like this, when the ghosts of her past refused to stay buried. As she logged into her office email, the mundane list of senders and subjects scrolled past until one name arrested her scrolling finger—a name tied to a history she had meticulously archived in the recesses of her mind. The technology and construction firm, ‘SynTech Construction Innovations,' belong to her ex-husband, Alexander, and it seemed to taunt her from the inbox. A ghost from her past that refused to be exorcised. A wave of emotions,
The insistent sound of a phone vibrating sliced through the silence of the early morning, tugging Alexander out of his deep slumber. Half-asleep, his hand fumbled on the nightstand in an attempt to find the phone. Claire's name flashed on the screen, an unusual occurrence for such an early hour. Without a second thought, he swiped to answer."Good morning, Alex," came Claire's voice, crisp and far more awake than he felt."Hmm..." was all he could mutter in response, his brain still thick with sleep."Alex, I think we should meet at the office in 30 minutes. There is something you need to see, and it's about the email we sent to the Miller consortium last night."The word 'Miller Consortium' was like a shot of adrenaline to his system. His eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright in bed. "What about it?" he asked. The fog of sleep rapidly cleared from his eyes."I can't discuss the details over the phone. Just get here as quickly as you can," she urged, leaving no room for argument.A
Three black cars, sleek and gleaming like panthers under the midday sun, pulled up in front of the Miller Consortium Group office building. The Rolls-Royce Phantoms, each worth over half a million dollars lined up in ceremonious precision. The building itself pierced the sky, a monolithic glass spire that stood as the tallest edifice in France after the Eiffel Tower, its mirrored surfaces reflecting the ambition and might of the empire it housed.Evelyn Miller was seated in the middle car, her presence even more commanding than the luxurious vehicle that enclosed her. As her bodyguards, clad in tailored suits that did little to conceal their readiness to protect, stepped out of the vehicles in front and behind her, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. One of them, his movements both swift and respectful, rushed to open the car door for her.She stepped out slowly, as though allowing the world a moment to prepare itself for her. The bodycon Stony black Louis Vuitton dress clung to
All the twelve board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, a collective rustling of expensive fabric and suppressed tension filling the room. Evelyn's expression remained cold and unreadable, a stark contrast to the anxious glances exchanged around the roomVice-chairman Kim, a man of sparse words and considered actions, initiated the proceedings with a voice that despite its softness, carried the weight of authority, "Everyone is gathered here today because of a proposed bill which will decide who sits as the head of Miller consortium, but before we start voting, if anyone has anything to say to Miss Miller here, do not hesitate, please."Evelyn's gaze swept across the room, her face a mask of icy composure. She caught the subtle tells of those who would vote her out - the averted eyes, the nervous shuffles, the whispered asides. 'If y'all want to be a pussy, at least have some dignity and do it with pride,' she mused, her internal laughter almost spilling over."I do not su
FIVE YEARS AGO...In the sprawling estate of the Montague mansion, where ivy climbed the walls like whispers of forgotten secrets and the scent of roses lingered in the air like the promise of eternal love, Isabella Montague stood at the grand window of her boudoir with a porcelain cup cradled in her slender fingers. Bathed in the soft morning light, she exuded an air of serene elegance, her delicate features illuminated by the golden rays that filtered through the sheer curtains. Slowly, she sipped her morning coffee savoring it's taste while the rich aroma mingle with the sweet scent of freshly-cut flowers that adorned the room. Her gaze drifted wistfully over the manicured gardens below, where dew-kissed petals danced in the gentle breeze, a picturesque tableau of tranquility.To the outside world, she was the epitome of grace and sophistication, the beloved wife of the esteemed CEO, Alexander Montague, who has continuously earned the yearly award for best Entrepreneur five time in
The continuous chime of the doorbell echoed through the Montague mansion, rousing Isabella from her quiet reverie. With a furrowed brow, she made her way to the grand entrance of the mansion, her heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Who could be calling at this late hour, and why under the cloak of anonymity? There was no one at the door when she checked the doorbell camera whilst tension slowly build up in her chest. Slowly, she reached for the ornate brass handle, her hand hesitated for a moment while a flicker of uncertainty flashed across her features. With a deep breath, she pushed aside her apprehension and swung the door open. The cold night breeze slithers into the room like a stealthy intruder, its icy tendrils reaching out to caress her skin with a chilling touch, the sudden contrast in temperature sends shivers down her spine while her heart continue to pound wildly. A small package nestled on the doorstep, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a
Isabella continued to sift through the contents of the envelope, her heart sank with each new discovery. Photographs, scattered like broken fragments of a shattered mirror, she picked up the one that stood out the most, lo and behold, her loving husband in the company of a mysterious woman, she couldn't make out her face because of the nose mask she had on, their faces alight with laughter and affection, with a smiling child sitting in-between them, great example of a happy family. For a year, she hasn't seen her husband smile so heartily. He spends extra time in the office and more time in his study than the bedroom, unscheduled meeting with staffs and consequent meetings with stakeholders that requires him to travel for weeks. At first it didn't strike her as something to bother about, he is the CEO of a big company and probably just trying to sign new deals and broaden his horizon, she would tell herself, making up excuses for him in her mind. Six month passed and he just seems to
The hours stretched further into the night, Isabella found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the damning evidence spread out before her on the coffee table. Each photograph, each letter, served as a painful reminder of her husband's betrayal, fueling the turmoil of emotions swirling within her. With every passing minute, Isabella's anxiety grew, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for Alexander's return. She paced the length of the dimly lit foyer, her footsteps echoing hollowly against the marble floors, her mind consumed by thoughts of what she would say to him when he walked through the door, the hands of the clock crept closer to midnight and there was still no sign of Alexander. The mansion lay shrouded in silence, the only sound was the soft ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner. Several hours passed in agonizing silence, each minute feeling like an eternity as she wrestled with her conflicting emotions. Part of her longed to confront Alexande