Chapter 2 2

The morning sun sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse dining room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The silence was heavy, pressurized, like the air inside a submarine before the hull cracks.

Jessye sat at the head of the long mahogany table. She wasn't wearing her usual silk robe, the one Adam liked because it made her look soft and available. Instead, she wore dark jeans and a black cashmere turtleneck. Her hair was pulled back in a severe, tight bun. She looked sharp.

Eleanor Payne, Adam's mother, swept into the room in a cloud of lavender and disapproval. She inspected the breakfast spread-avocado toast, poached eggs, fresh berries-and sniffed.

"The eggs look runny," Eleanor announced, taking her seat. She glanced at Jessye. "And where were you last night? Leaving the gala early? It was incredibly rude. I had to tell the Senator you had a migraine. A weak constitution is not a good look for a Payne."

Jessye didn't respond. She didn't apologize. She just took a sip of water.

Adam walked in a moment later, his eyes glued to the Wall Street Journal. He grabbed the mug of black coffee sitting at his place setting. He took a sip, sighing as the caffeine hit his system. He didn't know that Jessye blended that coffee herself, mixing specific beans with a dash of nootropic supplements to manage his chronic fatigue. He just thought it was good coffee.

"Mother is right," Adam said, turning a page without looking up. "PR is going to have a field day with your disappearance. Jean is already drafting a statement. Next time, try to have some stamina, Jessye. You're embarrassing me."

Jessye placed her hands flat on the table. "There won't be a next time."

Adam paused. He finally looked up, his eyebrows knitting together. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you planning to stay in bed for the rest of your life?"

Jessye reached for the thick manila envelope sitting next to her plate. She slid it across the polished wood. It spun slightly and stopped directly in front of Adam's coffee mug.

"It means I'm done," she said. Her voice was devoid of the tremor that usually accompanied their confrontations. "Those are divorce papers. I've already signed them."

Eleanor let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. She buttered her toast aggressively. "Oh, please. Not this again. Is this about the allowance? Adam, just buy her that bracelet she was eyeing and let's eat in peace."

Adam stared at the envelope. He didn't open it. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. "Divorce? Really, Jessye? You're going to play the 'I'm leaving' card because I didn't hold your hand on the red carpet?"

"It's not a card, Adam. It's a legal notification."

Adam stood up. He walked over to the corner of the room where the heavy-duty shredder sat-a fixture for his sensitive documents. He fed the envelope into the machine.

The room filled with the grinding screech of metal on paper. Adam watched the thick document turn into confetti.

"There," Adam said, dusting his hands off as if he had just taken out the trash. "Tantrum over. Now, I'm taking Josh to Karly's for dinner tonight. Pack his allergy bag. And make sure you include the EpiPen this time; I don't want to hunt for it."

He sat back down and reached for his coffee again.

Jessye watched him with a strange detachment. It was like watching a stranger. "That was a copy," she said quietly. "My lawyers filed the originals with the court at 9:00 AM. Your legal team has them in their inbox right now."

Adam froze. The cup hovered halfway to his mouth. The casual arrogance began to crack, replaced by a flash of genuine irritation. "You have lawyers? Who's paying for them? You don't have a dime that I didn't give you."

"I used my own money," Jessye said. "Pre-marital assets."

"You don't have assets," Eleanor scoffed. "You were a lab assistant when Adam found you. A nobody."

"Adam," Jessye said, ignoring his mother. "Read the email your general counsel just forwarded to you."

Adam slammed the mug down. Coffee sloshed over the rim. He pulled out his phone, scrolling aggressively. His face went pale, then red.

"You... you waived spousal support?" He looked up, genuinely confused. "You're asking for... nothing?"

"I'm asking for an immediate dissolution of the marriage," Jessye corrected. "I am invoking the 'clean break' clause. I walk away with what I came with. You keep your billions. I just want out. Today."

"You're insane," Adam whispered. He stood up again, looming over her, using his height to intimidate. It used to work. Today, Jessye didn't even blink. "You think you can survive in New York without the Payne name? Without my credit cards? You'll be on the street in a week."

"I'll take my chances." Jessye stood up. She was shorter than him, but in that moment, she felt ten feet tall.

"And Josh?" Adam sneered. "You think a judge will give custody to a jobless woman living in a studio apartment? I will bury you in litigation, Jessye. You will never see him again."

At that moment, footsteps thudded on the stairs. Joshua ran into the room, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He stopped when he saw the tension, his eyes darting between his parents. He instinctively moved toward Eleanor.

Jessye's heart hammered against her ribs. This was the only part that terrified her. "Josh," she said, her voice softening. "Mommy is going away for a while. Do you... do you want to come with me?"

Joshua looked at Adam, then at Eleanor. He saw the anger on his father's face and the disdain on his grandmother's. He looked back at Jessye.

"Where?" Joshua asked suspiciously. "To a small house?"

"I don't know yet," Jessye admitted. "But we would be together."

Joshua wrinkled his nose. "Karly said you're going to be poor. She said you don't know how to have fun. I want to go to Karly's house. She has a pool."

The air left Jessye's lungs. It was a physical blow, sharper than the shredder's blades. Her son, her flesh and blood, had been bought with a swimming pool and poison whispers.

She looked at Joshua, really looked at him. She saw the fear behind the bratty facade, the desperate need to please the dominant figures in the room. He was a victim too, but she couldn't save him if she was drowning alongside him.

"Okay," Jessye whispered. She forced a smile, though it felt like her face was cracking. "Okay, Josh. I love you. Remember that."

"Whatever," Joshua mumbled, grabbing a piece of toast and looking away.

Jessye nodded. She turned to Adam. "You heard him. He stays."

Adam crossed his arms, triumph gleaming in his eyes. "See? Even the kid knows you're useless. Get out, Jessye. Go play independent woman. When you're starving, don't come crawling back to me."

"I won't," she said. She walked toward the foyer. Her suitcase-a battered, carry-on size rimowa from her university days-was already by the door. It was the only thing she was taking. No jewelry. No designer bags. No couture.

"You're making a mistake!" Eleanor screeched from the table. "You're walking away from a legacy!"

Jessye opened the heavy front door. The hallway air smelled of floor wax and freedom.

"Adam," she said, pausing with her hand on the brass knob. She didn't turn around. "You think I'm the one losing something today. But you'll find out soon enough... the only thing holding this house together was me."

"Get out!" Adam roared, throwing a napkin onto the table.

The door clicked shut.

Jessye stood in the hallway for a moment, her forehead resting on the cool wood of the door. She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. Her hands were shaking. Not from fear. From adrenaline.

She picked up her suitcase and walked toward the elevator. She didn't look back at the penthouse door. She pressed the down button, and as the doors slid open, she stepped into the rest of her life.