Chapter 5 Nathan hadn't left the apartment in three days

Nathan hadn't left the apartment in three days.

The curtains remained drawn, casting long shadows across the once-modern living room that now reeked of desperation. Half-eaten food containers littered the table, and his phone buzzed on the floor where he'd thrown it after the fifth unanswered call from Clarisse.

His world-so carefully built on charm, image, and deception-was collapsing.

He used to walk into any boardroom and feel invincible. Now he couldn't look in a mirror without seeing the man Evelyn had exposed: weak, reckless, foolish.

There had been no official word from the board, but he knew. The silence was louder than any verdict.

And worse-far worse-was Evelyn's silence.

He had expected her to rage. To cry. To beg for him to come back, if only to hold the pieces together for appearances.

But she hadn't done any of that.

Instead, she'd dismantled him with the precision of a surgeon-no blood, no screaming. Just a clean, brutal incision that left him bleeding inside.

Clarisse slammed the door as she returned, frustration radiating off her in waves.

"You didn't even answer your phone," she snapped, dropping her bag onto the couch. "I've been calling you all morning. Do you know how humiliating it is to walk into that restaurant alone?"

Nathan didn't look up from the glass of whiskey in his hand. "Didn't ask you to go."

Clarisse froze. "Excuse me?"

He finally glanced up. "Why are you still here, Clarisse?"

The question wasn't loud, but it hit like a slap.

She blinked. "Because I chose you."

Nathan chuckled bitterly. "You chose a man who's lost everything. You chose a fantasy."

She crossed her arms. "Don't you dare put this on me. You promised me-"

"I promised you a lie," he growled. "The same lie I fed Evelyn for ten years."

The silence between them stretched, taut with pain and resentment.

Clarisse swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "So what now? You're just giving up? That's it?"

He stood slowly, glass in hand, eyes bloodshot and sharp. "What do you want me to do? Apologize? Fix it? I can't even step into the damn office without being looked at like a criminal."

"That's your fault," she said coldly. "You destroyed yourself."

"No," he said. "She destroyed me."

Clarisse flinched, and for a moment, her face twisted into something sharp and unfamiliar. "She didn't ruin you, Nathan. She just showed the world what you really are."

---

Meanwhile, Evelyn watched the city skyline from her penthouse, a quiet calm settling over her like silk.

Everything was unfolding exactly as she planned.

Nathan's name had become poison-his stocks dropped, his endorsements retracted, his social circle thinned like vultures moving to fresher kills. And Clarisse? Her once-envied social media presence had turned into a battlefield of scrutiny and scorn. One by one, sponsors and friends distanced themselves, her pristine image tarnished by whispers and screenshots Evelyn had leaked through anonymous channels.

But Evelyn wasn't done.

This was only the beginning.

She pulled up her laptop and stared at the confidential email she had received that morning-an anonymous tip from someone inside Nathan's company. Financial discrepancies. Illegal transfers. A scandal far more damaging than an affair.

She smiled.

How poetic it would be, to not only ruin his heart, but his name, his legacy. To watch him fall, not just from grace-but from the illusion of power he once wielded so smugly.

She made a single call.

"Detective Monroe? This is Evelyn Whitmore. I have something I think you'll want to see."

---

Two hours later, Clarisse stood in the elevator of the Whitmore building, her heels clicking impatiently as she adjusted the collar of her coat. She hadn't told Nathan she was coming here. She wasn't even sure why she had.

Maybe it was desperation.

Maybe it was guilt.

Maybe-just maybe-she wanted to beg Evelyn for a ceasefire.

The elevator dinged and opened into the executive suite, where Evelyn stood near the window, her back to her.

The room was suffocatingly silent.

Clarisse cleared her throat. "Evelyn."

Evelyn didn't turn around. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know. I just-" Clarisse took a step forward, faltering under the weight of her presence. "Please. You've made your point. You've destroyed him."

Evelyn turned then-calm, collected, eyes cold enough to burn.

"I'm just getting started."

Clarisse stiffened. "What more do you want from us?"

"You?" Evelyn's lips curved into a smile that wasn't a smile. "Nothing. You were never anything more than noise."

Clarisse's face fell.

"But Nathan?" Evelyn stepped closer, her voice soft like a blade sliding between ribs. "He took ten years of my life. My youth. My faith. My future. And now... I'm taking everything he ever pretended to value."

Clarisse's voice cracked. "You'll ruin him."

"I am ruining him." Evelyn's gaze burned into hers. "And I won't stop until he finally understands what it feels like to be powerless. Forgotten. Worthless."

Clarisse staggered back, the weight of her words choking her. "He's already broken, Evelyn. He hasn't slept. He barely speaks. He's... he's not even himself."

"Good," Evelyn said flatly. "Let him shatter."

---

That night, Nathan woke to the sound of pounding on the door.

Groggy, disoriented, he stumbled toward it, barely registering the flashing red and blue lights outside until it was too late.

"Mr. Nathan Whitmore?" a voice barked.

He blinked, heart racing. "Yes?"

"You're under arrest for fraud, embezzlement, and falsifying corporate records. You have the right to remain silent-"

Nathan didn't hear the rest. The sound of handcuffs clicking around his wrists drowned out everything.

Somewhere across the city, Evelyn watched the footage play on her private screen.

She didn't cry.

She didn't flinch.

She only whispered two words into the silence.

"Checkmate, Nathan."