Chapter 8

The St. Regis bar was a study in hushed power. Dark wood, low light, and the clink of ice in expensive scotch. Tess Pham's office was a study in organized chaos. Stacks of legal briefs sat on every surface, but the desk was immaculate. Tess herself was a petite woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor that had made her one of the most feared litigators in the city.

"Mr. Cruz," Edith said, her smile dropping the moment she saw the man's wary face. "Thank you for meeting me."

Edith sat down in the chair across from her. She looked terrible. She hadn't slept, hadn't eaten. The bruises on her wrist had faded to an ugly yellow-green.

She told him everything. The gala, the injection, the diagnosis, the trust fund, Milo. She held nothing back.

By the time she finished, Cristobal Cruz, a silver-haired titan of industry and Giovanni's primary rival, was leaning forward, his face a mask of intense calculation. "This is not just grounds for divorce, this is assault! Illegal confinement, medical malpractice, intentional infliction of emotional distress... a dozen felonies!"

Edith just looked at her, exhausted. "But?"

Cristobal's shoulders slumped. He sat back down, his legal mind taking over. "But Giovanni Baldwin has the best lawyers money can buy. They will bury us in paperwork and motions. They will drag this out for years. And the key issue is the merger."

"Milo," Edith repeated.

"When your parents died, Giovanni stepped in as your husband and petitioned for guardianship," Tess explained, pulling a file from a drawer. "He claimed you were emotionally unstable and financially dependent. The court agreed. He has full legal control over Milo's medical care."

"Then we prove he's an unfit guardian," Edith said, leaning forward. "He's drugging him into a stupor."

"We will," Cristobal said. "I'm going to file an emergency motion for an independent medical evaluation of Milo. If we can get a doctor to testify that he's being over-medicated, we can get the guardianship revoked."

Edith felt a flicker of hope. "Do it."

The hope was short-lived.

Two days later, Anya called Edith, who was hiding out in a cheap motel in Queens.

"The OmniCorp deal is accelerating," Anya said, her voice tight with frustration. "Giovanni's team filed a counter-motion. They claim you're the unstable one. They submitted evidence of your 'erratic behavior'-leaving the gala abruptly, liquidating assets... They're painting you as unhinged."

"I liquidated the necklace to save our supplier," Edith protested.

"He's setting a narrative, Edith," Anya said grimly. "The judge wants a full hearing before he allows any independent evaluation. It's going to take months."

Months. Her company didn't have months. It was wasting away in that chair.

Edith hung up the phone. She stared at the peeling wallpaper of the motel room. She couldn't wait months. She couldn't play by their rules anymore.

She pulled up Giovanni's public schedule on her phone-an app she had never deleted from her marriage. He had a board meeting at Baldwin Tower this afternoon.

She put on her only clean suit, hailed a cab, and marched into the lion's den.

The lobby of Baldwin Tower was a cathedral of glass and steel. Security was tight, but Edith still had the VIP access card. She swiped it at the turnstile, ignoring the surprised look of the guard, and stepped into the executive elevator.

The doors opened onto the executive floor. Two security guards immediately stepped in her path.

"Mrs. Baldwin, you can't be up here."

"Get out of my way," Edith said, her voice cold. She tried to push past them, but they grabbed her arms.

"Let me go!" she shouted, her voice echoing down the hallway. "Giovanni!"

At the end of the hall, the heavy wooden doors of the boardroom opened. Giovanni stepped out, his face a mask of cold fury.

"Bring her in," he said.

The guards dragged her into the boardroom. Around the massive table sat the directors of the Baldwin empire, all of them staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

Edith shook off the guards' hands. She straightened her jacket and looked at Giovanni, who stood at the head of the table like a king on his throne.

"Giovanni, please," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "Whatever you want from me, I'll do it. Just call off the acquisition. They're innocent."

The silence in the room was deafening. The directors exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Giovanni looked at her, his eyes sweeping over her cheap suit and desperate face. He felt a flicker of something-was it pity? No, it was irritation. She was making a scene. She was embarrassing him.

He slowly buttoned his suit jacket, a gesture of dismissal.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice calm and mocking, "allow me to introduce my... estranged wife. As you can see, she is emotionally distressed."

He turned to the guards. "She seems to have forgotten where she belongs. Please escort Ms. Woods out. And make sure she doesn't disrupt our business again."

The guards grabbed her arms again, their grips bruising.

"No!" Edith struggled, her eyes locked on Giovanni. "You can't do this! You're killing them! Giovanni!"

Giovanni turned his back on her, picking up a document from the table as if she wasn't even there.

Edith was dragged out of the room, her cries echoing down the marble hallway. The elevator doors closed, cutting off her view of his cold, indifferent face.

They threw her out the front entrance. She stumbled on the pavement, falling to her knees on the dirty sidewalk. Pedestrians walked around her, casting curious or disgusted glances at the crazy woman in the cheap suit.

Edith stayed on the ground, the cold concrete seeping through her clothes. She had begged. She had humiliated herself. And he had thrown her away like trash.