Chapter 7 - The Anatomy of a Fallen King
An hour later,
the diner door swung open with a violence that made the overhead bell chime frantically.
Ethan scanned the room,
his eyes bloodshot and his tie loosened at his throat.
He looked frantic,
a far cry from the polished executive who had walked through my front door the night before.
When he spotted me,
he didn't walk;
he marched,
his footsteps heavy on the linoleum floor.
He slid into the booth across from me,
his breathing ragged.
"Mabel,
tell me you didn't do it,"
he hissed,
his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and desperation.
I didn't look up from my coffee.
"Do what,
Ethan?
Tell the truth?"
"You’re going to destroy everything!"
he whispered,
conscious of the curious glances from the nearby tables.
"They’ve called an emergency meeting.
The Chairman wants me in his office by noon.
Do you have any idea what this means?"
I finally looked at him,
noting the sweat on his brow and the way his hands shook as he gripped the edge of the table.
"It means the consequences of your actions have finally arrived,
Ethan.
I’m just the messenger."
"It was for us!"
he lied,
the words spilling out of him like a desperate prayer.
"The expansion,
the money...
I was trying to build a cushion for our future.
I made some mistakes with how I handled the accounts,
yes,
but it was all for our life together."
I felt a laugh bubble up in my throat,
bitter and sharp.
"Our life?
Did you renovate Chloe’s parents' house for our life?
Did you pay for her brother’s startup for our life?
Did you spend three years in another woman’s bed for our life?"
He flinched as if I had struck him.
"Chloe was a mistake,
a distraction.
I was lonely,
Mabel.
Chicago was cold,
and the work was relentless.
She was just...
there."
"And I was here,"
I said,
my voice dropping to a level that was almost a whisper but carried the weight of a mountain.
"I was here,
maintaining your home,
defending your absence to our friends,
and waiting for a man who had already forgotten I existed.
You weren't lonely,
Ethan.
You were greedy.
You wanted the stability of a wife and the excitement of a mistress,
and you thought you were clever enough to keep both."
"I can fix it,"
he pleaded,
reaching across the table to grab my hand.
I pulled away before he could touch me,
the contact feeling like it would burn my skin.
"Call Arthur.
Tell him it was a misunderstanding.
Tell him we’re working it out.
If the audit stops now,
I can tell the board I made a clerical error and I’ll pay it back immediately."
"It’s too late,
Ethan.
The documents are already in their hands.
The trail of breadcrumbs you left leads straight to Chloe’s front door.
And I’m not stopping a thing."
He slumped back in the booth,
the reality finally sinking in.
May you like
The King was falling,
and he was realizing that the Queen was the one who had tipped the throne.
