“You already stood at an altar and exchanged vows with another woman,” I reminded him pointedly.
“I can fix all of this if you just give me a chance,” he insisted desperate.
“All I want from you going forward is to stop assuming you still hold any right to make decisions for my life,” I stated before hanging up the phone.
That very afternoon, Chloe burst into Damian’s corporate office demanding that he immediately release funds to safeguard her design firm from bank seizures. Damian glared at her coldly without moving a muscle.
“Where exactly did those one hundred and eighty million dollars go?” Damian demanded sharply.
Chloe turned visibly pale as her mouth fell open in shock. Before she could formulate a response, an official process server walked into the room to hand Damian a formal court order notifying him that his personal holdings were placed under active investigation.
Chloe placed a trembling hand over her stomach and blurted out the shocking sentence that altered everything.
“You cannot abandon me like this, Damian, because I am carrying your baby right now,” she cried out.
Yet that sudden pregnancy declaration was far from the end of their unraveling world, serving merely as the opening phase of their complete downfall.
PART 3
Damian stared in absolute silence at the positive pregnancy test resting on his wooden desk. Chloe stood directly across from him with red eyes, resting her hand protectively over her lower stomach.
“I am six weeks along,” Chloe stated softly. “The baby is yours.”
Paige later learned through an executive assistant who overheard the entire confrontation that Damian did not offer a hug or express joy.
“Why on earth didn’t you inform me about this earlier?” Damian asked in a cold voice.
“Because I wanted to be completely certain first,” Chloe responded defensively.
“So what exactly do you expect me to do about it now?” he questioned plainly.
Chloe stared back at him in utter disbelief. “I am your wife, Damian!”
“Not in the eyes of the law, you aren’t,” he countered bitterly.
That was the underlying reality of their entire mess. Damian had staged an extravagant social event covered by local lifestyle magazines, complete with live online broadcasts and hundreds of wealthy guests, yet our legal marriage had never been dissolved. That grand ceremony was nothing more than an illegitimate performance in court, even as it served as a bitter public insult toward me.
Chloe broke down into hysterical tears right beside his desk. “You explicitly swore to me that you would handle the legal paperwork right after the event!”
“The entire situation shifted completely,” Damian snapped back.
“Is this all because of Samantha?” Chloe challenged angrily.
Damian remained dead silent, and that lack of denial proved to be more than enough for her to process. For the very first time, Chloe recognized that the wealthy executive she had secretly dated for years was not willing to forfeit his corporate empire, social status, or personal fortune for her sake.
Yet it was not lingering affection that was drawing Damian back in my direction, but rather a terrifying fear of losing everything he felt entitled to own.
A few days later, Harold Vance met with me to detail how our audit revealed over two hundred and forty million dollars funneled directly into firms tied to Chloe. While a portion funded legitimate commercial operations, massive amounts were diverted to lease luxury apartments, buy high-end vehicles, and issue wire payments to her family members.
“We possess more than enough evidence to demand his immediate removal from the executive board,” Harold assured me confidently.
“Not just yet,” I instructed softly while gazing out the office window toward the towering financial district in Midtown. “I want his removal executed in front of every single voting shareholder.”
During those frantic weeks, Damian spent vast sums hiring private investigators to track down my whereabouts. I was not hiding in a distant state, but remained right inside the city focusing on my health under the watchful care of Dr. Jonathan Miller, a renowned cardiologist who had been a trusted friend of my father. Jonathan was thirty-four years old, dividing his medical practice between regional heart centers and advanced clinical facilities in Boston. Learning of my medical emergency, he had flown in directly to review my surgical file.
“The emergency operation successfully saved your life,” Jonathan observed while reviewing my charts, “but your primary goal right now is to stop acting as though you are completely immune to physical pain.”
“I have critical responsibilities to handle,” I gently argued.
“And you will have decades ahead to handle them if you simply learn how to care for your body first,” Jonathan replied with a warm smile.
He was the very first person in weeks who refrained from bringing up Damian’s name, treating me with professional medical attention that gradually evolved into a genuine personal friendship.
Two months later, the annual general assembly for Carlisle Enterprises took place. I walked through the main corporate glass doors dressed in a tailored black suit, keeping my hair bound tightly while holding a thick document binder. The primary receptionist gasped the moment she recognized my face.
“Mrs. Carlisle…” she stuttered nervously.
“Please, just address me as Samantha,” I corrected her calmly before taking the elevator up to the top floor board room.
Damian was seated right at the head of the long executive table when I walked inside, causing his pen to drop straight onto the hardwood floor. He had lost significant weight, sporting heavy dark circles under his weary eyes and an unkempt beard. For two straight months, he had flooded my attorneys with messages, sent expensive floral arrangements to my recovery center, mailed letters to my secretary, and even returned a custom diamond necklace he had gifted me during our engagement.
I had ignored every single one of those desperate gestures.
I calmly pulled out a leather chair directly opposite him and said, “We may commence the meeting now.”
Damian struggled to maintain his focus throughout the preliminary reports. When the schedule opened for shareholder statements, I raised my hand to request the floor.
“I personally hold a twenty-three percent equity stake in Carlisle Enterprises,” I announced clearly to the room. “I am not standing here today as anyone’s spouse, but strictly as a major institutional shareholder.”
Harold promptly distributed printed audit binders to every board member present while I clearly detailed the unauthorized transfers, the shell corporations, the fraudulent mortgage placed on my personal property, and the vast transactions processed without board approval.
Damian attempted to cut me off, pleading softly, “Samantha, we do not need to discuss these personal matters in front of the entire board.”
“This is the exact venue where it must be addressed, considering the capital was stolen directly from this institution,” I countered firmly.
One senior board member leaned forward and asked sternly, “Did these funds ultimately flow into accounts registered under Chloe Danvers?”
“Yes, they did,” I confirmed directly.
A wave of low whispers immediately rippled through the executive room as Damian drained of all color. I formally moved for a board vote to suspend him from his executive role pending the final outcome of the financial investigation. The very investors who had backed his leadership for years raised their hands against him, resulting in a decisive majority vote that stripped him of his executive power.
Damian did not shout or argue. He simply sat motionless, staring blankly down at the wooden table surface. As the board members began filing out of the room, he called out my name in a cracked voice.
“Samantha… does destroying me like this actually make you happy?” he asked quietly.
I turned around slowly to face him. “No, surviving that surgery made me happy. Reclaiming my father’s property gave me peace, and realizing I am no longer tied to your life gave me absolute freedom. What happened today is simply the natural consequence of your own actions.”
He pushed himself up from his seat and stepped closer. “I truly had no idea you were so sick that afternoon.”
“You knew I was suffering from severe chest pain for three straight days, yet when I called for help, you deliberately ignored your phone,” I reminded him coldly.
“I honestly assumed it was just routine stress,” he stammered out.
“And yet you still prioritized trying on suits for a fake wedding over checking on my health,” I replied directly.
Damian lowered his eyes to the floor and whispered, “Please let me take proper care of you now.”
“When my life was on the line, you were nowhere to be found, so do not show up after the house has burned down expecting me to thank you for offering a glass of water,” I told him before walking away.
I assumed that bitter encounter would mark our final private interaction, but I was completely mistaken.
A week later, I convened a formal press conference to address the rampant tabloid rumors circulating through the media. Certain outlets were claiming the public wedding was a calculated marketing stunt, while others alleged I had fabricated my medical emergency to launch a hostile takeover of the corporation. I refused to let those false narratives define reality.
