CHAPTER FIVE:
Nicole didn't sleep because she couldn't.
The photo still sat on the dining table where she'd left it the night before, staring up at her like a dare. Kendra's manicured hand curled around Julian's tie. His palm rested on the small of her back. That half-smile on his face wasn't for show — it was real.
The timestamp read four nights ago.
Nicole sat in the armchair across from it, legs folded beneath her, silk robe still tied tight like armor. The city had gone to sleep and then it woke again. People rushed to work, cabs honked, deliveries arrived. And still, she stared.
She wasn't crying anymore. The last tear had dried sometime around 4 a.m., slipping down her cheek before vanishing — like the life she thought she had.
Her fingers moved to her lower belly, gentle and steady.
The nausea was gone. What remained was a bone-deep calm that felt more dangerous than heartbreak.
She stood.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically. Just... with intent.
Like a woman who remembered what she was made of.
She slipped into a fitted dress — navy, high-collared, the kind she wore when she used to own rooms.
She brushed her hair back.
No makeup. She didn't need it today.
Before walking out, she slid the photo into her bag. Not for proof. For the reminder.
---
"Camille," she said into the phone, voice cool. "I'm going to see my father's lawyer."
Camille didn't ask why. "Do you want me with you?"
Nicole paused in the elevator. Stared at her reflection — poised, unreadable. Steel beneath silk. "No," she said. "I need to do this alone."
---
The building hadn't changed.
Blake, Sorenson & Tyler LLP still occupied the top two floors of the West End tower. The elevator opened to marble floors and quiet money. A new receptionist — young, alert — looked up and recognized her instantly.
"Mrs. Blake," she said, rising. "Mr. Sorenson is expecting you."
Nicole nodded once and walked forward. Her heels struck the floor with finality.
Harold Sorenson stood when she entered. Grayer at the temples, but still solid and loyal. One of the last men her father trusted.
"It's been a while," he said.
"Not long enough."
He studied her. "You're not here to reminisce."
"No. I need something. My father mentioned a clause — one you drafted. He said it was for protection. In case I ever needed it."
Harold didn't flinch. He reached into a locked drawer, withdrew a thin envelope, and placed it on the desk.
"He told me to give you this the moment you asked. No delay."
Nicole picked it up. Her name was scrawled across the front in her father's sharp, impatient handwriting.
She opened it slowly.
Inside: a single-page legal document. Heavy with notary stamps. Thick with legal language. But her eyes locked on one section, highlighted in yellow.
> "In the event of spousal betrayal, either of corporate trust or marital fidelity, Nicole Blake retains sole authority to reclaim her board seat, voting rights, and any marital assets tied to the Blake name or legacy."
The words didn't hurt, they anchored her.
She looked up. "It's real?"
Harold gave a solemn nod. "Very real. He never fully trusted Julian." Nicole let out a quiet laugh. Dry. "I did."
---
In the backseat of her car, she closed her eyes.
She was 26 again. Rising fast. The boardroom had looked to her like she was gravity. She wore white. Clean lines. Confidence.
Julian sat beside her, whispering under his breath. "Let them see you win," he said, squeezing her hand.
He hadn't wanted her to stay long.
"You've done the hard part," he told her later, champagne in hand. "Now let's build something new — together."
So she stepped down. Gracefully. Trustingly. And gave it all away.
She remembered Kendra too — young, eager, asking questions, shadowing her through meetings like an apprentice. Nicole had taken her under her wing.
"She reminds me of me," she once told Julian. Now she saw it.
The way Kendra looked at Julian.
The way Julian slowly started lifting her up, positioning her as vital, irreplaceable.
She hadn't just stepped down from her seat. She'd handed it over.
God, she'd been blind.
---
Camille's car pulled up just as Nicole stepped out of the building. She got in without a word.
Camille glanced sideways. "Well?"
Nicole opened her bag and handed her the paper.
Camille read, eyes widening. "This clause is insane."
"Dad was paranoid."
"No," Camille said. "Dad was brilliant."
She folded the paper gently. "So what's the plan?"
Nicole stared out the window. "I take everything back."
"All of it?"
"He used my name,my company. And my trust. I let him build on my back. Now I'll break every brick he laid."
Camille didn't speak,
Nicole turned to her, voice razor-sharp. "Are you with me?" Camille met her gaze. "I've always been."
---
That night, while Nicole called in favors, reactivated contacts, and signed emails under a false name, Julian stood in a penthouse suite on the other side of the city.
He fastened a diamond bracelet around Kendra's wrist. She turned it, admiring the glint in the light. Her robe slid slightly off one shoulder.
"You haven't told her," Kendra murmured.
"She's still your wife."
Julian didn't flinch. "She won't walk away. She never does."
He kissed her shoulder. Smiling like the truth had never cost him a thing.
Back in her apartment, Nicole stood in front of the mirror, her hand settled over her stomach and in a whisper — not broken, not soft, but resolute — she spoke the vow out loud.
"For both of us''