Chapter 5 - The Confrontation at the PenthouseThat evening, the heavy oak front door of our penthouse slammed open with concussive force.
I didn't flinch. I sat quietly in the velvet armchair by the floor-to-ceiling windows, slowly turning the pages of a hardcover architectural digest as if he were nothing more than an irritating background noise. “You’re raising your voice, Mason,” I said mildly, not even bothering to look up. “It’s unbecoming for a man of your stature.”
“Don't play games with me!” he snarled, taking three aggressive steps toward my chair before two towering, unfamiliar private security guards—hired directly by my legal team under the new property injunctions—stepped out of the hallway shadows and blocked his path, their hands resting firmly on their tactical belts. Mason froze, staring at the armed guards in stunned horror. “You locked me out of my own company? You filed asset seizures?”
I finally raised my eyes, meeting his panicked, bloodshot gaze with an arctic stare that cut straight to his bone. “Three weeks ago, standing outside the VIP lounge, you told your lieutenants that you stopped caring about this marriage a long time ago, and that I just hadn't figured it out yet,” I said, my voice dropping into an icy, conversational whisper. “Well, Mason... I finally figured it out. And now, you’re about to find out what it feels like when the woman holding your entire foundation walks away.”
