CHAPTER TEN-- RAGE

Dave's POV

The quarterly reports blurred before my eyes, numbers dancing like mocking specters across the page. Each line spelled out the same truth: we were drowning. Three years of questionable decisions and risky ventures had finally caught up with Scott Enterprises. The company my father had built, the legacy I was supposed to protect—all of it slipping through my fingers.

I admit, I have been slacking off on my duties, partying more, buying more diamonds for the women who caught my eyes. Anything to make their legs spread for me.

However, I can't believe I let it get this bad. If this continues, the company might have to file for bankruptcy and I have no idea how I'm going to face my dad. He already thought I didn't have what it took to manage the company. 

Everyone thought the same. 

Collins had just always been better at everything.

"Mr. Scott?" Sarah's voice drifted through my dark thoughts. My assistant stood in the doorway, her lipstick freshly applied, blouse buttons done up with the top two left gaping in her habitual seductive act. "There's someone here to see you."

I didn't look up. Couldn't bear to see the lingering hope in her eyes, that pathetic devotion she'd maintained even after I'd made it clear our little arrangement meant nothing. Any other time, I would have let my eyes slowly run over her body. Maybe even convinced her to step in and close the door so I could sit her on my desk and plunge into her tight body.

Or maybe she would have preferred to kneel in-between my legs and wrap that hot mouth around my cock. I admit, she gives one hell of a blowjob.

And…….. there it was. That was exactly why my company was having budget deficits. I couldn't keep it in my pants.

God, Dave, you're pathetic.

“Mr. Scott?” She called, breaking me out of my self-chastisement.

 "Not now."

"Sir, they insist—"

"I said not now!" My fist connected with the desk, sending a crystal paperweight tumbling to the floor. Sarah flinched, her hand flying to her throat—a gesture so reminiscent of Ella that it made my blood boil. 

"It's a legal matter, sir." Her voice had shrunk to a whisper. "They say it's urgent."

Before I could respond, a man in an impeccable charcoal suit stepped past her, radiating the kind of quiet authority that set my teeth on edge. "David Scott?" He extended an envelope like a weapon. "You've been served."

The words hung in the air, absurd in their simplicity. I stared at the envelope, then at Sarah still hovering in the doorway, her smudged lipstick a crimson wound across her face.

"Get out," I told her, snatching the envelope. She melted away, closing the door with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot.

The paper was thick, expensive. Official. My hands shook as I tore it open, the reality of what I was seeing refusing to register. Divorce papers. My wife—my Ella—was divorcing me.

"Sir?" The server's voice grated against my nerves. "I need to confirm you've received—"

Something snapped. I was across the desk before I could think, my hands fisting in his collar. "Who put her up to this? Was it that lawyer? Gregory Chris?"

"Security!" His shout brought my office door crashing open. Two guards rushed in—professionals, not the rent-a-cops my building employed. They must have anticipated this reaction. The thought only fueled my rage.

"Mr. Scott," one guard said, his tone carrying a clear warning. "Release him now."

I let go, smoothing my tie with trembling hands. "Get out. All of you."

Alone again, I collapsed into my chair, the leather creaking beneath me like a dying animal. Ella's signature stared up from the papers, each elegant curve a betrayal. How long had she been planning this? The thought of her meeting secretly with that lawyer, Gregory Chris, made bile rise in my throat. Was she sleeping with him? Had she spread her legs for him like she had for me, playing the innocent while plotting her escape?

My phone was in my hand before I realized I'd moved, thumbs flying across the screen: "Tell my dear uncle he should be more careful about where he takes my wife. Those hotel security cameras catch everything."

A shot in the dark, but the seed of doubt might be enough to crack her composure. Make her reveal whatever—whoever—she'd been hiding.

"Sarah!" She materialized in the doorway, hope and fear warring on her face. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. And get me the number for Gregory Chris’ law office."

"Yes, sir." She lingered, fingers twisting in her skirt. "About our conversation last week—"

"Are you still here?"

Her face crumpled as she retreated. Good. Let her hurt. Let everyone hurt.

Besides, I'm in no position to give anyone a raise. If Sarah thought a few fucks were enough to guarantee her a raise, she was sorely mistaken.

The office phone's shrill ring cut through my thoughts. Marcus. Our biggest investor. The final nail in today's coffin.

"David," his voice dripped with disdain. "I've reviewed the quarterly reports. Care to explain why your company is hemorrhaging money?"

I yanked at my tie, struggling to breathe. "It's a temporary setback. The new contracts—"

"Save it. I'm pulling my investment."

"You can't do that!" The words tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

"I already have. Perhaps if you spent more time managing your business and less time chasing skirts, you wouldn't be in this position. Goodbye, David."

The line went dead. I stared at the phone for one long moment before hurling it across the room. It exploded against the wall in a satisfying shower of plastic and circuitry.

Feeling the rage build up higher inside of me, I pushed the chair back and stood up, grabbing my jacket and storming out of the office.

The drive home was a blur of red lights and horn blasts as I weaved through traffic, my mind spinning scenarios like poison thread. Ella would be there, probably smug in her victory. She'd try to explain, to justify her betrayal. But I'd make her see reason. Make her remember who she was before me—nothing. No family, no connections, just another pretty face in a city full of them. I'd given her everything. Made her someone.

The house loomed before me, silent and dark. Wrong. The air inside felt different, charged with absence.

"Ella?"

My footsteps echoed through empty rooms. Her closet gaped open, hangers swaying emptily. The vanity where she spent every morning was stripped bare. Even those ridiculous decorative pillows she'd insisted on buying were gone.

The realization hit like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. She hadn't just filed for divorce—she'd left me.

A white envelope mocked me from the kitchen counter, propped against her phone. Her handwriting, precise as ever, carved fresh wounds:

"Dave,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Don't try to find me. Don't contact me. Any communication should go through my lawyer.

- Ella"

The rage that exploded through me was elemental, a force of nature that turned the world red. Glass shattered. Wood splintered. Pain bloomed in my hands, but I welcomed it, fed on it, let it fuel the destruction until I stood panting in our bedroom—my bedroom now—surrounded by the wreckage my life now was.

My reflection caught my eye, a stranger's face twisted with fury. Blood dripped from my knuckles where glass had bitten deep. I barely felt it. 

The family photo on the nightstand drew my gaze like a magnet. Ella at last year's charity gala, gorgeous in blue silk, smiling up at me like I was her whole world. Such a perfect act. Had she been planning even then? Meeting in secret with that lawyer, spreading her legs for him while plotting her escape?

Had she been meeting with my uncle at the same time?

Two timing snake. She won't get away with this.

I grabbed my phone, scrolling through contacts until I found the name I needed. If Ella wanted to play dirty, I'd show her just how filthy things could get.

"Jensen? Dave Scott here. Remember that favor you owe me?" I traced a finger across Ella's smiling face in the photo. "I need you to find someone. And when you do, I want to know everything—where she lives, where she works, who she sees. Everything."

The glass cracked under my fingers, splitting Ella's face in two.

"She thinks she can leave me?" I whispered to her fractured smile. "She's about to learn exactly what she walked away from.”