Thirty seconds.
James opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyes darted to Sophia, then back to Emma. Panic was written all over his face, and Emma just... watched. Let him squirm.
"I—" He cleared his throat. Tried again. "Sterling Tech has proprietary technology that could revolutionize—"
"Twenty seconds."
"Emma, please—"
"Ms. Hartley. And you're wasting time." She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs. The picture of bored indifference. Inside, her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears.
James ran a hand through his hair. That old tell. He always did that when he was stressed. "The truth is we made mistakes. Bad decisions in the product development phase. We rushed the launch because our investors were pressuring us, and it backfired. But the core technology is sound. With proper funding and time to rebrand—"
"That's not truth," Emma interrupted. "That's a pitch. You're still selling me something." She stood abruptly, and everyone else scrambled to their feet. "I've heard enough."
"Wait." James moved around the table toward her. Sophia put a hand on his arm, but he shook her off. "Just—give me five minutes. Please. Alone."
Emma looked at him. Really looked at him. The James Sterling from two years ago wouldn't have begged. Wouldn't have shown weakness in front of his team, his girlfriend, potential investors.
He'd changed. Or maybe he'd just gotten desperate enough to drop the act.
"Five minutes," she said finally. Then to her team: "Wait outside."
Marcus hesitated. "Emma—"
"It's fine." She kept her eyes on James. "Mr. Sterling and I have some... history to discuss."
Sophia's face went sheet-white. "James?"
"It's okay," he told her, but he didn't look at her. Couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Emma. "Just give us a moment."
The room emptied. The door clicked shut.
And then it was just them.
The silence felt enormous.
"Em, I had no idea you were—"
"Don't." Emma's voice cracked like a whip. "Don't you dare call me that."
"Emma, then—"
"Ms. Hartley." She crossed her arms. Put the width of the conference table between them. Distance. She needed distance. "I took back my maiden name. First thing I did after the divorce was finalized, actually. Felt good to scrub Sterling off every document."
He flinched. Good.
"How?" James shook his head, still looking shell-shocked. "How did you build Phoenix Ventures? Two years ago you were working at that nonprofit, and now you're—you're one of the most successful venture capitalists in New York. I don't understand."
"You don't need to understand."
"I want to."
"What you want stopped mattering to me the day you walked out." Emma's voice was hard. Flat. "You're here because your company is dying. I'm here because I'm deciding whether it's worth my money to save it. That's the extent of our relationship."
"Emma—Ms. Hartley." He corrected himself quickly. "I know I don't have the right to ask you for anything. I know that. But I'm asking anyway."
"Why should I?" The question came out sharper than she intended. Raw. "Give me one reason I owe you anything."
"You don't." James's voice went quiet. "You don't owe me a damn thing. I'm the one who—" He broke off, jaw working. "The product launch failed because I made the wrong call. Pushed it out too fast. And when it flopped, our investors panicked. Three of them pulled out within a week. Then someone leaked internal emails about the decision-making process, and it became a scandal. Stock tanked. Board's talking hostile takeover."
"Someone leaked emails?" Emma raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've got bigger problems than funding."
"There's someone on the inside working against me. I just don't know who." He looked so tired. Defeated. "If I don't secure investment by Friday, the board forces a vote. And I lose Sterling Tech."
"Everything," Emma said softly. "You'll lose everything."
He nodded.
She let that sit there for a moment. Let him feel it.
"Everything," she repeated, and this time her voice had teeth. "You mean like I did?"
James's head snapped up.
"Two years ago, you took everything from me." Emma's hands were shaking now. She gripped the back of a chair to steady them. "My marriage. My home. My sense of self. You looked at me like I was nothing—like six years meant nothing—and you walked away."
"I know."
"You don't know." The words burst out of her. "You don't know what it's like to have someone you loved tell you you're not enough. That you're comfortable. Like being loyal, being supportive, putting someone else first—like all of that made me boring. Made me less."
"Emma—"
"I'm not finished." Her voice was shaking now too. She couldn't help it. "You took everything, James. And you know what the worst part was? I believed you. I thought maybe you were right. Maybe I had become small. Maybe I deserved to be left."
The words hung in the air between them, raw and jagged.
James looked like she'd hit him. "That's not—I never meant—"
"Yes, you did." Emma's laugh was bitter. "You meant every word."
Two years earlier
Emma came home early. Her boss at the nonprofit had sent everyone home—some problem with the heating system. She was actually excited about it. She'd pick up Thai food, surprise James, maybe they'd actually have dinner together for once instead of him working until midnight.
The apartment was quiet when she opened the door. Too quiet.
"James?" she called out.
No answer.
She found him in their bedroom. Standing over a suitcase. An open, packed suitcase.
Her stomach dropped. "What's going on? Are you going somewhere? Business trip?"
He didn't turn around. Just kept staring at that suitcase like it held all the answers to questions she didn't know she should be asking.
"James?"
"Sit down, Emma."
Something in his voice. Cold. Detached. Like she was a stranger and not the woman who'd slept beside him for six years.
"I don't want to sit down." Her voice came out small. When had she started sounding so small? "Tell me what's happening."
He finally looked at her. Those blue eyes she'd loved—the ones that used to light up when she walked into a room—were ice. Just ice.
"I'm leaving."
Two words. That's all it took to destroy a life.
"Leaving? What do you mean leaving? For how long?"
"For good." He said it like he was commenting on the weather. Casual. Easy. "I'm in love with Sophia."
The name didn't register at first. Sophia. Sophia. His assistant. The girl who scheduled his meetings and brought him coffee and—
"You're sleeping with your assistant." It wasn't a question.
"I'm in love with her," he corrected, like that made it better. Like calling it love somehow cleansed it of being a betrayal. "She's ambitious. Driven. She understands the demands of building a company."
"And I don't?" Emma's voice was rising now. Breaking. "I gave up my MBA program for you. I took a job I was overqualified for because the hours were flexible so I could support your career. I believed in you when nobody else did, James. I was there for every late night, every pitch meeting, every—"
"And I'm grateful for that." He had the audacity to sound sincere. "But Emma, you became comfortable. You stopped growing. You settled into this... domestic routine. I need someone who challenges me."
The words landed like blows. Each one finding a soft place to hit.
"I challenge you," she whispered.
"You used to." He picked up the suitcase. "You were supposed to be my partner, Emma. But somewhere along the way, you became my dependent. I can't respect that."
Dependent.
The word burned.
She'd sacrificed everything to support his dream, and now he was calling her dependent?
"Where are you going?" The question came out broken.
"Sophia's place." Of course. Of course he already had somewhere to go. This wasn't spontaneous. This was planned. Calculated. "My lawyer will send over the divorce papers tomorrow. I'm being generous with the settlement. Alimony, half the apartment equity—"
"I don't want your money." Pride. That's all she had left. Stupid, useless pride.
"Emma—"
"Get out." Her voice was steady now. Dead. "If you're going, just go."
He hesitated at the door. She almost thought he might say something. Apologize. Tell her he'd made a mistake.
Instead, he left.
And Emma stood in their—her—bedroom, staring at the space where her life used to be, and felt herself shatter.
The papers arrived the next day, like he promised. She signed them in a coffee shop because she couldn't bear to do it in the apartment. Her hand shook so badly she could barely hold the pen.
She refused the alimony. Took only her share of the apartment equity—fifty thousand dollars. Chump change for James. A fortune for her.
It felt like thirty pieces of silver.
She moved her stuff out the following week. He'd already cleared out all his belongings, so the apartment felt like a corpse. Empty and cold.
Her mother called. Emma didn't answer. Couldn't explain that her marriage had ended, that she'd failed.
She stayed with Lena for three months. Cried until she couldn't cry anymore. Gained fifteen pounds from emotional eating. Lost twenty-five from not being able to keep food down.
And slowly—so slowly—she started to rebuild.
Because that's what you do when someone destroys you.
You either stay broken, or you become something new.
Emma chose new.
Present day. The conference room. Emma blinking away memories that still cut.
"I didn't know," James was saying. "I didn't know it would hurt you that badly. I thought—"
"You thought I'd be fine," Emma finished. "You thought I was so comfortable, so settled, that I'd just... keep existing. Find another nonprofit job. Maybe date some nice accountant. Live a small, boring life."
"No, I—"
"Yes." She looked him dead in the eye. "You didn't think about me at all, James. That's the truth. I was collateral damage in your success story."
He didn't deny it. Couldn't.
Emma grabbed her bag. This conversation was over. She'd said what she needed to say, and staying any longer felt dangerous. Like the walls she'd built might crack.
"I'll review the proposal," she said, back to business. Professional. "My team will conduct due diligence. You'll have an answer by Thursday."
"That's not enough time—"
"That's all you get." She headed for the door.
His hand caught her wrist.
The contact was electric. Shocking. Her skin remembered his touch, and she hated that. Hated that two years later, her body still knew his.
"Please." James's voice cracked. "I know I don't deserve your help. I know that. But I'm asking anyway."
Emma looked down at his hand on her wrist. Then up at his face.
He looked wrecked. Absolutely wrecked.
Good.
But also... there were three hundred people at Sterling Tech. Good people. Engineers and designers and customer service reps who hadn't destroyed anyone's life. They didn't deserve to lose their jobs because their CEO was an idiot.
She pulled her wrist free. Stepped back.
"I'll think about it," she said quietly. "But James? If I do this—and that's a massive if—it won't be for you. It'll be because three hundred people at your company don't deserve to lose their jobs because their CEO is an idiot."
She walked out before he could respond.
Left him standing there, broken, in the conference room of his dying company.
And she didn't look back.