Chapter 14 #2
"True or not, you need to handle your private affairs immediately!" He pounded the desk. "A public company CEO caught in a divorce scandal tanks stock prices, shakes investor confidence. The board's already questioning your stability. I don't care how you do it—resolve this marriage crisis fast."
"Thanks for the advice," I pointed to the door. "Now get out."
He glared at me with frustration, then left.
The second the door closed, I got HR on the line.
"Find out who's spreading rumors! Track down the source! Now!"
I grabbed my coffee cup and smashed it on the floor.
Even as rage consumed me, I knew anger wouldn't solve this. At a company Rockefeller's size, a major investigation touching employee privacy would damage reputation and stock value.
For the first time, I felt my business empire—the fortress I'd built—wasn't safe anymore. This supposedly impenetrable stronghold was springing leaks everywhere.
That evening, I dragged myself back to the manor, exhausted.
I'd been sleeping in the study for two weeks.
In all that time, I'd never entered the bedroom Ella and I shared.
As if not opening that door meant the marriage wasn't really dead.
But today, with even the lowest-level employees gossiping about me over coffee, I finally understood: avoidance solved nothing.
I pushed open the door for the first time since Ella left.
No trace of her. Just endless silence swallowing me whole.
My spine gave out. I collapsed onto the wide silk bedding.
This was where we'd slept countless nights.
Cold, smooth sheets pressed against my face, carrying a faint scent—what remained of Ella.
I pulled the blanket over my head, buried my face deep, and tried to force that fading fragrance into my lungs.
Only this way could I pretend Ella was still beside me.
The scent worked like a drug, giving me brief peace.
I don't know how long I lay there half-asleep before I sat up again. My gaze fell on the nearby nightstand.
That priceless diamond ring still sat there.
On impulse, I opened the drawer with the divorce papers. The agreement was in its usual spot, but something was off. The position was wrong.
I'd always prided myself on my memory. I knew for certain that when I'd thrown those papers in the drawer, they'd been on the left side. Now they sat dead center.
My breath caught.
Someone had touched them. Someone had invaded my private space and rifled through my most painful secret.
I stormed downstairs and knocked on Mrs. Hughes's bedroom door.
She opened it in her robe, startled to see me.
"Mrs. Hughes," I demanded. "Has anyone been in Ella's and my bedroom recently?"
My sudden hostility alarmed her. She shook her head quickly. "No, sir. Since you ordered no one to enter, I've even kept the dusting maids away. No one would dare disturb it."
"Think harder." My voice dropped. "Someone was definitely in there."
Mrs. Hughes looked genuinely frightened. She turned her eyes, thinking hard. Her memory took time—she was getting older. Finally, she muttered, "If I had to name a suspect... There is one person."
"Who?" The word ground through my teeth.
"Miss Vivian." Mrs. Hughes actually rolled her eyes at me. "You invited her that day, sir."
My heart lurched. I wasn't even surprised. "What did she do?"
"She said she needed the bathroom, then vanished. I waited forever before she came running downstairs looking panicked. I asked where she'd been. She just said she got lost..." Mrs. Hughes pursed her lips with old-school housekeeper disdain. "She was your guest. I didn't feel I could say more."
After Mrs. Hughes spoke, the tangled mess in my head suddenly straightened out. She had no reason to lie. She'd always been a loyal outsider.
As for Vivian...
I'd never imagined my chief assistant, someone I'd trusted completely, would sneak into my private quarters like a rat and spy on my most intimate business.
I started reevaluating our relationship. Had I really gotten too close to Vivian? As chief assistant, she needed to be around me constantly, but I suddenly realized that because of that professional proximity, I'd grown numb to her boundary violations.
Now it hit me: if Vivian had seen that agreement, the "rumor source" was obvious. This betrayal shocked me. I started wondering how much wrong information I'd given her, how much I'd enabled her, to make her think she had any right to meddle in my private life.
What unsettled me more: whether it was Grandfather's bizarre accusations or Maya's talk of "misunderstandings," every time my marriage with Ella hit a breaking point, Vivian's shadow lurked nearby.
Sure, I had no proof she'd played any ugly role.
Maybe she was just doing her job. But these "coincidences" had piled up too high to ignore.
A chill crawled up my spine. The violation made me sick.
Vivian was the strongest on my assistant team, but right now, professional competence meant nothing against my boundaries.
I'd wrongly prioritized work efficiency.
Reality had slapped me hard. My life was a disaster.
I'd rather spend massive resources and invest endless time training someone new than tolerate someone who'd lost all sense of boundaries, who might be spying on my life, staying near me.
Starting now, I would never let this woman in my sight again.
"Revoke all of Vivian's access privileges. Notify security—she's permanently banned from Rockefeller Manor."
Mrs. Hughes's spine straightened. She looked genuinely pleased by this decision.
"Yes, sir."
First thing at the office next morning, I summoned Vivian through the intercom.
The door opened. I felt like I was seeing this woman clearly for the first time.
Perfect makeup, smile sweet as industrial syrup.
Her top shirt button was undone. When she leaned forward across from me, her cleavage showed beneath her blouse.
She looked confident, proud, chin tilted up to expose her long neck. Apparently, her most seductive angle.
I'd never noticed Vivian's behavior before.
Maybe because since adulthood, I'd been surrounded by calculated flattery.
I'd grown used to women's little tricks for attention—the accidental touches, the perfectly timed head tilts, the worship disguised as business.
Background noise I'd learned to completely ignore.
Only now, stripping away the filter of Vivian's professional competence, viewing her coldly as an outsider, did I see how aggressive her presentation was. Realizing I'd let a woman constantly probing for openings, trying to seduce me, stay this close for so long made nausea rise from my stomach.
"Why spread rumors?" I cut straight to it. Not one wasted word.
Vivian's smile froze, but quickly returned.
"Lucas, what are you talking about? Do you want coffee? The usual today?"
"Vivian," my voice dropped. "Don't waste my time."
Vivian blinked. She bit her lip hard, tears gathering in her eyes like she'd suffered some terrible injustice.
"It was a slip-up when I was drunk," she choked out. "You've been in such bad shape lately, and I couldn't see Ella at the manor, so I just... I just guessed..."
"Don't lie to me," I interrupted. "You went through the divorce agreement in my bedroom!"
Tears still hung on her lashes, but her face suddenly darkened.
"I was... I was..."
She opened her mouth, then seemed to remember something. "That's right! I was looking for Mr. Rockefeller's medical files to take care of him. I thought they'd be in your bedroom..."
"Enough, Vivian." After working together these years, she knew my personality. I wouldn't confront her without solid evidence.
"As of today, you're no longer my chief assistant. I'm transferring you out of core management to some edge department that doesn't handle confidential files."
Vivian's expression cycled through shock, resentment, and finally settled on desperate pleading. She suddenly rushed around the desk and dropped to her knees, grabbing my hand with both of hers.
"I really didn't mean it, Lucas." Her diamond-studded nails dug into my flesh. "Please, for the sake of what we once had... that relationship we had... don't be this cruel. I just love you too much. I couldn't stand watching you become this miserable over that woman..."
She lowered her head and kissed my hand submissively, tears dropping onto my skin. I'd never seen Vivian lose it like this. Heavy mascara ran down her cheeks in black streaks, destroying the polish she'd worked so hard to maintain.
My hand felt coated in something sticky. Honestly, before she walked through that door, I didn't have a hundred percent proof. Never expected two test sentences would make her spill everything.
"Lucas, please, let me stay by your side."
I coldly pulled my hand from her grip. "Issue an internal clarification. Company-wide announcement. Tell everyone those rumors were drunken speculation on your part."
Her pupils shrank. She forgot to cry, voice turning shrill. "But... that'll ruin my career! I'll never work in this industry again!"
"If you say one more word," I was done, "I'll fire you outright and make sure no one in the industry will hire you. Now get out of my office."
Vivian's face went completely bloodless. She staggered to her feet like someone had pulled out her spine and stumbled out.
I watched the door close, lit a cigarette. This truth pieced together from someone else's malice didn't make me feel better—just made me feel like a complete idiot.
Over the next few hours, I handled Vivian's transfer with cold efficiency and promoted a quiet but capable deputy to replace her.
By the time I finished everything, sunset had stained the city an oppressive dark red.
The migraine from mental strain throbbed again.
I sat in the car's back seat on the drive home, watching scenery fly past the window, feeling hollow inside.
I'd stopped the rumors, kicked out the boundary-crosser, but I still didn't know where my wife was.
When I got back to the manor, Mrs. Hughes waited at the entrance. The second she saw me, she handed me a creased paper—a photocopied bank statement.
I looked at her, confused.
Mrs. Hughes's expression was knowing. She whispered, "Look at the user name and transaction records, sir."
I opened the copy. My exhausted gaze moved slowly, but when I saw the name and transaction records, my brain snapped awake.
I checked the transaction location again. User: Ella Rockefeller. Address: Rochester, Minnesota. Most purchases pointed to the same hospital.
In that moment, indescribable joy and bitterness slammed into my chest simultaneously. I almost wanted to laugh. Someone as innocent as Ella would never think to change billing addresses or cancel old cards. This crude statement felt as heavy as salvation in my hands.
I didn't hesitate. Grabbed my phone and called my new assistant.
"Cancel all meetings for the next two days."
"Book me a flight to Minnesota. Fastest one available. Now."