Chapter 326
He looked at the billion-dollar seal. Then he looked at Nadine.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he peeled Nadine’s arms off his chest and took a large step back, physically distancing himself from her.
“Zach?” Nadine whispered, her voice cracking. “What are you doing?”
“Security,” Zach ordered, his voice completely devoid of warmth. “Pack Ms. Nadine’s personal items. Move her desk down to the basement archives. Immediately.”
Nadine let out a high-pitched shriek and lunged at Zach. The two security guards grabbed her by the arms and hauled her backward. She thrashed wildly, her expensive heels dragging across the carpet, leaving deep grooves, screaming obscenities all the way down the hall until her voice faded with her dignity.
The employees outside the glass wall took a collective step back, staring at Cailin with wide, fearful eyes. The shift in power was absolute.
Jo practically ran into the office and grabbed a tissue, frantically wiping the smeared lipstick and spilled coffee off the mahogany desk.
“Welcome back, Ms. Morton,” Jo whispered, her hands shaking with adrenaline.
“Thank you, Jo. Close the door on your way out,” Cailin said.
She walked around the desk and sat down in the heavy leather chair. The leather was still warm from Nadine. Cailin let out a long, slow breath. Her stomach muscles finally unknotted.
She booted up the computer, bypassed the standard auction files, and opened the encrypted logistics network. She needed to find a private, untraceable flight corridor to get Elia out of the country. The clock was ticking.
Her phone vibrated on the desk. The screen lit up — a text from Hilliard.
I am picking you up. Do not make me wait.
Cailin stared at the screen. Her pulse spiked. The battle in the office was over. But the war with her husband was just beginning.
By five-thirty, the Manhattan sky had bruised purple and black. A cold, relentless rain began to fall, turning Fifth Avenue into a slick river of neon reflections.
Inside the lobby of the Obsidian building, a crowd of employees huddled near the revolving doors, waiting for the downpour to ease.
The elevator dinged. Nadine stepped out.
She was holding a battered cardboard box filled with cheap office supplies and a dying potted plant. She had spent the last eight hours in a dusty, windowless basement. Despite the humiliation, she had reapplied her makeup perfectly and kept her chin high, desperate to salvage a scrap of pride.
A sleek black Porsche Panamera pulled up to the curb, its tires hissing against the wet asphalt. The driver rolled down the window and honked twice. It was Zach.
Nadine’s face instantly lit up with a triumphant, artificial smile. She turned to the group of junior appraisers standing nearby.
“Excuse me,” Nadine said loudly, making sure her voice carried across the lobby. “My boyfriend is taking me to Le Bernardin for dinner. Some of us don’t have to worry about the rain.”
.
.
.