Chapter 6

Arielle stepped into her private corner office. The heavy glass door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the noise of the newsroom.

She immediately turned the deadbolt. She locked out the chaotic network environment and anyone who might interrupt her.

Dropping her heavy tote bag on the floor, she collapsed into her ergonomic leather chair.

The adrenaline from the lobby encounter faded rapidly. It left behind a bone-deep, aching exhaustion.

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. The delayed PTSD from the plane crash merged with the absolute heartbreak of Julian's betrayal. Her chest heaved as she struggled to pull air into her lungs.

She reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small, locked mahogany box.

Using a small silver key she wore on a chain around her neck, she opened the box. It revealed a stack of old photos and letters.

She bypassed the photos and picked up a handwritten vow from seven years ago. It was penned on thick, cream-colored parchment paper, back when they first started dating and long before Leo was born.

Julian's sharp, elegant handwriting stared back at her: 'To protect you, always, above all else.'

Arielle read the words aloud. Her voice cracked in the empty room.

She remembered Julian standing in the pouring rain in Sydney. He had been so desperate, begging her to trust him with her future.

The contrast between the devoted boy from seven years ago and the cruel, indifferent CEO of today was jarring. It made her stomach twist in knots.

A single tear escaped her eye. It dropped onto the parchment, slightly blurring the ink on the word 'always'.

She felt a profound sense of regret. She mourned the years she wasted trying to save a dead man.

Arielle realized she fell in love with a ghost. The man living in the penthouse was a stranger wearing Julian's face.

She wiped the tear away fiercely with the back of her hand. Her expression shifted from sorrow to cold, hard determination.

She reached into her top drawer for a silver lighter she kept for lighting scented candles. She flicked the flame to life.

Holding the edge of the vow paper, she brought it to the fire. She let the flame catch the corner.

She dropped the burning paper into the metal wastebasket beside her desk. She watched the past turn to ash, the orange glow reflecting in her cold eyes.

Arielle turned to her computer monitors. She woke them up with a sharp shake of the mouse.

She opened a secure, encrypted document file she had created months ago but never had the courage to touch.

The title read: 'Divorce Settlement Draft'.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She updated the terms with ruthless efficiency.

She explicitly typed out the demand for sole physical and legal custody of Leo Sinclair.

She deliberately checked the box waiving all rights to spousal support or any share of the Sinclair assets. She wanted a clean, undeniable break.

Arielle hit print. The machine whirred to life, spitting out the crisp, legally binding pages.

She gathered the warm papers, tapping them on the desk to align the edges perfectly.

She slipped the document into a thick manila envelope and sealed it with finality.

A knock sounded on the locked door. Her assistant, Nina, called out, announcing her 10 AM production meeting.

Arielle unlocked the door. She stepped out not as Mrs. Sinclair, but as Arielle Miller, ready for war.