Seducing my Ex-husband back (Claire) novel Chapter 10

THE RECKONING

~RICHARD’S POV~

The whiskey burned, but not enough to dull what I was feeling.

I sat in my home office at 2 AM, surrounded by financial reports that painted the same harsh picture no matter how many times I reviewed them.

Blackwood Industries…my father’s legacy, my life’s work…was bleeding money faster than I could stop it.

But it wasn’t the company’s impending collapse keeping me awake.

It was the magazine lying open on my desk, its glossy pages catching the lamplight.

Claire’s face stared back at me from the cover, radiant in a way I had never seen during our marriage. Her smile was convinced, victorious.

The sapphire engagement ring on her finger caught the camera flash like a weapon.

“FROM ASHES TO EMPIRE: Claire Winfred’s Billion-Dollar Love Story”

Hayes Corporation. Alexander fucking Hayes.

The same company I had been asking for partnership deals for over a year. The same Alexander Hayes who had ignored every proposal, every meeting request, every olive branch I had extended.

And now he was engaged to my ex-wife.

The coincidence felt like a slap across the face. Or maybe it wasn’t a coincidence at all.

I grabbed my phone and speed-dialed Collins, my head of acquisitions.

“Sir?” His voice was groggy. “It’s past two in the morning…”

“Hayes Corporation,” I interrupted. “Every dealings we’ve had with them in the past eighteen months. I want a full report on my desk by eight AM.”

“Sir, is this about the engagement announcement? Because I should mention….”

“What about the engagement announcement?”

Collins cleared his throat nervously. “Alexander Hayes is… well, sir, he’s Thomas Blackwood’s illegitimate son. Your half-brother.”

The phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the desk.

‘Half-brother.’

Images flashed through my mind….my father’s late nights, his “business trips” to Geneva, his secretive phone calls.

The payments I had found in his old files after he died, tagged only with initials: E.H.

Elena Hayes. Alexander’s mother.

“Sir? Are you still there?”

I picked up the phone with trembling fingers. “Send me everything you have on Alexander Hayes. Financial records, business dealings, personal history. Everything.”

“Sir, some of that information might be difficult to obtain…”

“I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care what laws you have to bend. Get me everything.”

After hanging up, I stared at Claire’s photo again. Her change was staggering….gone was the soft, putting up wife I had known.

This woman looked like she could conquer worlds.

And apparently, she had.

Three successful businesses, bestselling book, magazine covers, charity galas. She had built an empire while i had been watching mine crumble.

‘How dare she.’

The thought came unasked, foolish fury burning through my chest. How dare she show up in my life now, when everything was falling apart?

How dare she look so brilliant while my world was collapsing?

How dare she move on so completely when I was still…

Still what? Still thinking about the way she used to kiss my neck after I came home from work?

Still remembering how she would light up when I walked into a room? Still craving the way she would whispered my name like a prayer?

“You’re pathetic,” I muttered to myself, downing the rest of my whiskey.

But I couldn’t stop staring at her photo.

At the way Alexander’s hands rested possessively on her waist. At the love shining in her eyes—love that had never been quite that bright when she looked at me.

The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house. Monica was finally home.

I glanced at the clock: 2:17 AM. Where the hell had she been?

I found her in the kitchen, rifling through the refrigerator in her designer dress, her makeup smudged and her hair disheveled.

She looked like she had been at a club. Again.

“Long day at the office?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Monica jumped, slamming the refrigerator door. “Jesus, Richard. You scared me.”

“I asked you a question.”

She sighed, that familiar look of irritation crossing her face. “I had drinks with clients after work. Then I had to stop by the hospital to check on my mother.”

Lies. I could see them in the way she wouldn’t meet my eyes, in the defensive set of her shoulders.

“Which clients?”

“Does it matter?” She pushed past me toward the stairs. “I’m exhausted. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “We’ll talk now.”

“Let go of me.” Her voice was ice-cold.

“You’ve been coming home late every night this week. You disappear on weekends. You barely speak to me unless we’re at some business function putting on a show for investors.” My grip tightened.

“What the fuck is going on, Monica?”

She jerked her arm free, rubbing the spot where my fingers had been. “What’s going on is that I married a man who’s watching his empire crumble and taking it out on his wife.”

“My empire is crumbling because someone is sabotaging my deals. Someone who knows exactly which investors to target, which partnerships to undermine.” I stepped closer, studying her face.