Chapter 6: The Meeting
Andrew Whitmore had never been humiliated in his entire life.
He'd been challenged, sure. Threatened. Blocked from a deal or two.
But never humiliated.
Not until that moment.
Not until he saw his own face on every screen in the city, plastered with the words "FRAUD" and "ABUSER" and "BROKE."
The press conference had been playing on a loop for the past three hours.
Every time Andrew closed his eyes, he saw his wife standing at that podium.
Calm.
Collected.
Beautiful.
Destroying him.
And the worst part?
She was right.
She was right about everything.
"Andrew!" Brenda's voice cut through his thoughts. "Andrew, I can't get any of my accounts to work. I can't get a hold of anyone. Your mother is crying in the other room. What the hell is happening?"
Andrew stared at his phone.
Seventy-three missed calls.
Four hundred unread messages.
Every single one of them asking the same question.
Is it true?
Are you really broke?
Did your wife really own everything?
"Andrew!"
He finally looked up.
"I don't know what's happening," he said slowly. "I don't know what she did. But I'm going to fix it."
"Fix it? How?"
"I don't know."
"Don't say you don't know. Figure it out!"
"Stop screaming at me!"
Brenda flinched.
Andrew stood up.
"I'll fix it," he said again. "I'll call my lawyers. I'll—"
"Your lawyers aren't answering your calls, Andrew."
"Then I'll call someone else."
"Who? Who can fix this?"
Andrew opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"What happened to you?" Brenda asked. "What happened to the man who was supposed to make me rich?"
"He's still here."
"Is he? Because the man I know wouldn't let his wife steal everything."
"I didn't let her steal anything."
"Then where did everything go?"
Andrew took a breath.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"Everything she said at that press conference—" He ran his hand over his face. "The company. The assets. The money. It was all in her name from the start."
"What?"
"She put everything in her name."
"You signed everything, Andrew."
"I signed contracts that she had drawn up by her lawyers. I never read them."
"You never—"
"I trusted her."
Brenda stared at him.
"Wait, so the money was never yours? The house? The cars? The investments?"
"No."
"None of it?"
"No."
Brenda sat down.
Hard.
"Andrew—"
"What?"
"Did you ever own anything?"
He hesitated.
"Did you ever own anything?" she repeated.
"Brenda—"
"Answer the question."
"I don't know," he said quietly. "I don't think so."
Brenda went silent.
Then she started laughing.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was a laugh of pure disbelief.
"Brenda, I—"
"You never owned anything," she said. "I spent six months planning to marry a rich man. I spent six months destroying his marriage. And he was broke the entire time."
"I wasn't broke. She was just—"
"She owned everything! Everything! And you're just standing here telling me you never even checked?"
"Brenda—"
"How could you be this stupid?"
The word hit him like a slap.
"Brenda, I—"
"Don't talk to me."
"Please—"
"Don't come near me."
She stood up.
Walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving."
"You can't leave. We need to figure this out."
"Figure what out? You have nothing. Your wife stole everything. Your lawyers won't answer your calls. Your board is meeting without you. What exactly is there to figure out?"
"We'll fix it—"
"No, Andrew. You won't. Because there's nothing to fix."
She walked out.
The door slammed.
Andrew stared at the closed door.
Brenda's voice echoed in his head.
You have nothing.
You never owned anything.
How could you be this stupid?
He called Mariana.
She didn't answer.
He called her again.
She didn't answer.
He kept calling.
Finally, a voice answered.
"Stop calling me, Andrew."
"Mariana—"
"I told you not to call me."
"I need to see you. We need to talk. We can fix this."
"Do you hear yourself? There's nothing to fix."
"Everything she said at that press conference was a lie."
"Why do you keep saying that? It's not a lie. It's the truth."
"Mariana—"
"You hit me," she said.
"I'm sorry."
"You let your mother humiliate me."
"I'm sorry."
"You let your mistress destroy our marriage."
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry," she repeated. "You're sorry now that you have nothing. But you weren't sorry two days ago. You weren't sorry when you were screaming at me. You weren't sorry when you slept with someone else."
"I can be better."
"Can you?"
"Yes."
"Andrew, I've been hearing that for four years. You never got better. You never tried. You just kept making excuses."
"I won't make excuses anymore."
"I don't believe you."
"Mariana—"
"I don't believe you. I don't believe anything you say. And I don't want to talk to you anymore."
"Please. Please don't do this."
"Goodbye, Andrew."
She hung up.
Andrew stared at his phone.
The screen went black.
He waited for her to call back.
She didn't.
He sat down.
May you like
Stared at the empty room.
And for the first time in his life, Andrew Whitmore had no idea what to do.
