Chapter 7
Lena's POV
"I'm not doing this anymore," I continued, each word measured, deliberate. "I'm not extending the contract. I'm not asking Rowen for help. I'm not pretending this marriage is anything other than what it always was—a business arrangement that's reached its expiration date."
"You ungrateful—" She caught herself, but not quickly enough. The rage underneath, the years of resentment, all of it surfacing. "I raised you. I gave you everything. And this is how you repay me? By abandoning the family when we need you most?"
"You didn't raise me." The words came out quiet, factual. "You trained me. Shaped me. Turned me into exactly what you needed—a perfect daughter, a perfect wife, a perfect tool for maintaining the family image. But I'm not a tool, Mother. And I'm done pretending I am."
"You'll regret this." Her voice was shaking now, fury and fear mixing into something toxic. "When the company collapses. When our name is dragged through the press. When you're standing in the ruins of everything your grandfather built, you'll wish—"
"I have to go." I cut her off, fingers already moving to end the call. "I have work to do."
"Lena—"
I hung up.
For a long moment, I just sat there, phone in hand, watching the screen fade to black. Then I opened the settings, found my mother's contact, and tapped "Do Not Disturb."
Three weeks. Just three more weeks of this. Then it's over.
I pulled back onto the highway, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Behind me, the Reynolds estate disappeared into fog. Ahead, Silverton's towers rose sharper, clearer, inevitable.
My chest felt tight. My throat ached. But my hands didn't shake, and my voice—when I'd spoken—had been perfectly level.
You've been performing your whole life. What's three more weeks?
Except it wasn't a performance anymore. Or maybe it had always been real, and I'd just been too well-trained to notice the difference.
I drove toward Madison & Partners, toward depositions and client calls and the familiar rhythms of work that made sense in ways family never had. The city swallowed me—glass and steel and the bright, impersonal morning.
If this is the first time I've truly chosen for myself, I thought, merging into downtown traffic, then let it begin.
The Madison & Partners building rose thirty stories above Silverton's financial district, all glass and steel and the kind of understated wealth that didn't need to announce itself. I pulled into the underground garage, killed the engine, and sat for a moment in the silence.
The call with my mother still echoed in my ears. Her voice—controlled fury barely masking panic. The demand that I call Rowen. The insistence that family loyalty meant sacrificing myself on the altar of a company Marcus had already gutted from the inside.
I didn't call Rowen. I wouldn't.
Three weeks. The contract expired in three weeks. Whatever happened to Grant Investment after that wasn't my responsibility to fix by staying married.
I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the elevator, heels clicking against concrete. Professional armor. That's what Emily called it once—the suits, the perfectly neutral makeup, the way I moved through the world like I was always about to step into a deposition.
Maybe she was right.
The elevator delivered me to the twenty-eighth floor. Madison & Partners occupied the top three levels—a visible reminder of our position in Silverton's legal hierarchy. The reception area was all dark wood and soft lighting, designed to make wealthy clients feel both powerful and protected.
"Morning, Ms. Grant." The receptionist's smile was practiced, pleasant. "Mr. Madison asked to see you when you arrived. Conference room B."
My stomach tightened. Richard Madison didn't usually summon associates first thing in the morning. Not unless something significant was happening.
"Thank you." I kept my voice level, professional. "I'll head there now."
Conference room B was midsize—big enough for serious meetings, small enough to feel intimate when needed. Richard was already there when I arrived, along with three other partners I recognized: Sarah Chen from corporate litigation, David Kim who handled international transactions, and Patricia Alvarez from our mergers and acquisitions team.
"Lena." Richard stood, gesturing to an empty chair. "Good morning. Thank you for coming."
I set my briefcase down, noting the way they were all watching me. Too attentive. Too careful.
Something was definitely happening.
"Of course." I sat, crossing my legs, arranging my expression into polite interest. "What can I help with?"
Richard exchanged glances with the other partners. Then he smiled—warm, enthusiastic, the expression he used when about to deploy someone on a major case.
"We've been approached by Reynolds Industries," he began. "They're planning a significant European expansion. Acquisition of a German manufacturing firm, establishment of a fintech subsidiary in France, possibly additional operations in the UK depending on regulatory approval."
My pen, halfway to my notepad, stopped.
Reynolds Industries.
Of course.
"They need comprehensive legal support," Richard continued. "Due diligence, compliance review, contract drafting, regulatory navigation across multiple jurisdictions. It's going to be one of our biggest engagements this year."
I kept my face neutral, but my mind was already racing. Rowen's expansion into Europe. The project he'd mentioned months ago at some charity dinner I'd attended by his side, smiling and nodding while he discussed leveraging Reynolds Industries' domestic success into international markets.
"Sounds complex," I said carefully. "Who's taking point?"
