Chapter 2 - Sixty Chocolates and a Sweet Destruction
Forty-five minutes later, the sleek glass doors of Halston Technologies slid open, welcoming me into the bustling, high-stakes corporate lobby of one of the most prestigious financial firms in the Midwest.
The security guards knew me well; during our happier years, I used to bring catered lunches up to Daniel’s department on Fridays. They smiled warmly as I walked through the turnstiles, completely unaware that I was carrying an infant against my chest and two heavy black artisanal boxes filled with sixty meticulously wrapped dark chocolate and hazelnut truffles.
I took the private elevator straight up to the forty-third floor—the executive suite where Daniel’s marketing and operations department reigned supreme. The floor was a labyrinth of glass-walled offices, polished chrome accents, and hushed corporate whispers.
I stepped out of the elevator, my heels clicking softly against the Italian marble floor, and walked directly toward the nearest open workstation.
Sitting there was Sarah Jenkins, a senior account manager who had attended our wedding six years ago. She looked up from her dual-monitor setup, her eyes widening in surprise as she spotted the baby carrier.
"Sophie! Oh my goodness, is this little Noah?" Sarah gasped, standing up to admire him. "He is absolutely precious! What brings you all the way downtown?"
I offered a bright, perfectly composed smile that didn't quite reach my eyes, popped open the lid of the first black box, and extended it toward her.
"Take one," I said smoothly, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet open-plan office.
Sarah blinked, staring down at the rows of rich, dusting-dusted truffles. "Oh, wow, thank you! But... what’s the occasion? Is it a birthday?"
"We’re celebrating Daniel’s new family," I replied cheerfully, making sure to project my voice so that the surrounding desks could hear every single word.
Sarah let out a nervous, polite laugh, assuming it was some quirky inside joke about our newborn son or a pet adoption. She plucked a dark chocolate truffle from the box and sat back down.
I continued walking down the aisle of desks, stopping at every single workstation.
"Take one," I repeated, offering the box to Daniel’s lead financial analyst.
"What’s the celebration?" the analyst asked, taking a candy.
"Celebrating Daniel’s new family," I answered with the exact same sweet, unbothered cadence.
By the fifth desk, people had stopped typing. By the twelfth desk, the low murmur of corporate gossip had completely died down, replaced by a heavy, palpable curiosity. Colleagues were exchanging sideways glances, whispering behind their coffee mugs, and staring openly at the woman standing in the middle of the executive floor handing out luxury sweets to celebrate her husband's secret domestic life.
Then, the heavy glass doors of the private secretarial pool swung open, and Rachel Morgan stepped out holding a stack of quarterly reports.
She froze dead in her tracks.
Her meticulously styled blonde hair, sharp designer pantsuit, and polished demeanor evaporated in a single second. The moment she saw me standing there with an infant strapped to my chest and a box of chocolates in my hands, the color drained entirely from her face, leaving her looking like a ghost in a high-end boardroom.
I turned slowly on my heel, locked my eyes onto hers, and strolled across the marble floor until I was standing less than three feet away from her desk.
"Dark chocolate or hazelnut, Rachel?" I asked, my voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm.
Rachel’s chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. She gripped the edge of her mahogany desk so hard her knuckles turned stark white. "I... I don't want one, Sophie," she stammered, her voice trembling in front of half the executive department.
"That’s quite surprising," I tilted my head, smiling warmly. "You didn't seem to have any trouble accepting a million-dollar townhouse in Lincoln Park."
The entire forty-third floor went utterly, deafeningly silent. You could have heard a pin drop on the marble floor. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped instantly from me to Rachel, whose face had now turned a sickly, translucent shade of gray.
Before Rachel could choke out a single syllable of defense, the heavy oak doors of the executive conference room flew open.
Daniel marched out, his face flushed with deep crimson rage, his sleeves rolled up, having clearly heard the commotion echoing through the glass partitions.
"What the hell do you think you are doing out here, Sophie?!" Daniel roared, storming across the floor toward me, completely forgetting where he was or who was watching.
I didn't flinch. I didn't step back. I simply reached down to my phone, tapped the screen, and played his voicemail out loud at maximum volume.
“Rachel isn’t my wife, Sophie. The townhouse is an investment. Lily needed help with school. I had benefits available that Noah won’t need for years... You have everything you need, Sophie.”
Daniel’s own voice bounced off the glass walls, echoing back at him in front of his entire department, his peers, and his subordinates.
The silence in the office became absolute, heavy with judgment and stunned disbelief. Daniel stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he realized the catastrophic trap he had walked right into.
Then, a slow, authoritative clap echoed from the doorway of the conference room behind him.
Another voice cut through the silence like a knife.
"Well, well, well. Interesting management style, Carter."
We all turned. Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his tailored suit jacket, was Robert Halston—the billionaire CEO and founder of Halston Technologies.
His silver hair was immaculately groomed, his expression cold, calculating, and carved from absolute granite. He looked past Daniel, his sharp eyes locking directly onto me and sleeping Noah for a brief second before shifting back to my trembling husband.
Robert stepped out into the open floor, his presence instantly commanding the room. He looked Daniel up and down with undisguised contempt.
"Did company funds, discretionary accounts, or corporate educational subsidies reimburse any portion of Lily Morgan’s private school tuition or housing allowances, Mr. Carter?" Robert asked, his voice dangerously low and steady.
Daniel swallowed hard, panic sweating through the collar of his custom shirt. He opened his mouth, stammering frantically, "I... I mean, sir, that’s an internal administrative matter—I’d need to review the paperwork before—"
Robert’s face hardened into a mask of pure ice.
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"You don't need to review anything, Carter," Robert interrupted sharply, his voice echoing off the glass walls. "Because you submitted the signed executive authorization paperwork yourself. And my legal department audits every single penny that leaves this subsidiary."
That was the exact moment everything changed.
