Chapter 4 - He Woke Up Asking for Me—But I Had Already Signed the Divorce PapersNate survived.
The bullet passed through his shoulder and missed the subclavian artery by less than an inch.
When he woke thirty-six hours later, I was not beside him.
Sophia was.
I had asked her to go.
Not because Nate wanted her.
Because I couldn't.
Not yet.
I had spent three years loving a man who had been sent to manipulate me.
He had cheated.
Lied.
Planned to steal my company.
Then he had confessed.
Helped expose the conspiracy.
Taken a bullet meant for me.
Human beings were inconvenient that way.
Villains rarely remained entirely monstrous.
And love rarely disappeared simply because it should.
I returned to San Francisco.
My father hugged me for almost a full minute.
Then he cried.
I'd seen Robert Montgomery fire CEOs, fight lawsuits, survive hostile takeovers, and bury his wife without collapsing publicly.
But when I told him what Daniel admitted about Mom's biopsy, he sat down and wept.
The federal investigation moved quickly.
Daniel was charged with conspiracy, attempted murder, securities fraud, and obstruction.
Charles Harrison faced racketeering, fraud, and conspiracy charges.
Sophia received immunity in exchange for testimony.
And Nate?
Nate surrendered himself.
No deal.
No attempt to hide behind his family.
He gave prosecutors everything.
Then he resigned from Harrison Ventures.
Transferred his holdings into a restitution fund.
And signed the divorce papers I sent him.
No argument.
No negotiation.
No request for money.
He left one handwritten note.
You gave me your trust once. I used it against you. I won't use your love against you too. If leaving me is what gives you your life back, I will make leaving easy.
I read it six times.
Then I put it away.
Six months passed.
Montgomery Media survived.
Better than survived.
Our stock rose after the conspiracy became public.
Employees rallied.
Shareholders backed me.
My father stepped down as CEO the following spring.
He nominated me.
The board voted unanimously.
At thirty-two, I became the youngest CEO in Montgomery Media history.
Olivia stood in the back of the boardroom and cried harder than I did.
That evening, she brought champagne to my office.
“To the woman who married a corporate spy and somehow turned it into a promotion.”
“That's a terrible toast.”
“I'm still workshopping it.”
We laughed.
Then Olivia became quiet.
“Nate's sentencing was today.”
I stopped.
I hadn't asked.
I had tried not to know.
“And?”
“Probation.”
I looked at her.
“Because he cooperated early, prevented your murder, surrendered the money, and testified.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Olivia watched me.
“That's all?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don't know.”
“Neither do I.”
Nate moved to Seattle.
I learned that accidentally.
He founded a small investment advisory firm focused on restructuring companies after fraud.
No Harrison money.
No family connections.
He stopped contacting me.
That should have made things easier.
It didn't.
One year after the wedding, I returned to Silver Creek Estate.
Alone.
The venue manager recognized me and looked terrified.
I laughed.
“I'm not getting married.”
“Good.”
Then she turned red.
“I mean—”
“I understand.”
I walked toward the chapel.
The white roses were gone.
Another couple was preparing for a wedding the following weekend.
I stood in the little library.
The ventilation grate remained.
I placed my hand against the wall.
One year earlier, that wall had destroyed my life.
Or so I believed.
Now I understood it had revealed it.
My phone vibrated.
Olivia.
Turn around.
I frowned.
Then turned.
Nate stood in the doorway.
I stared at him.
“Olivia.”
“She threatened me.”
“I'll kill her.”
“She said you'd say that.”
He looked different.
No expensive suit.
No perfect haircut.
Just jeans, a dark sweater, and a faint scar visible above his collar.
“Why are you here?”
“Olivia said you needed closure.”
“I already have closure.”
“I told her that.”
“Then why come?”
Nate looked at me.
“Because she threatened to send Sophia instead.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
He smiled.
That smile still hurt.
We walked outside.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally, I asked:
“Are you happy?”
Nate considered it.
“I'm learning.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Same.”
We reached the vineyard.
The sunset turned everything gold.
“I hated you,” I said.
“I know.”
“I wanted you in prison.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
He laughed softly.
“Still hate that?”
“Yes.”
“Noted.”
I looked at him.
“Why didn't you fight the divorce?”
“Because I spent three years taking choices away from you.”
His expression became serious.
“I wasn't going to take that one too.”
That answer mattered.
More than I wanted it to.
“Nate.”
“Yes?”
“I loved you.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“Past tense.”
“I know.”
“But sometimes...”
I stopped.
He waited.
No interruption.
No assumption.
No attempt to finish my thought.
That mattered too.
“Sometimes I miss you.”
Nate looked toward the vines.
“I miss you every day.”
I closed my eyes.
“That doesn't fix anything.”
“No.”
“It doesn't mean we should try again.”
“No.”
“It doesn't erase Sophia.”
“No.”
“Or the takeover.”
“No.”
I almost smiled.
“You've become very agreeable.”
“Therapy.”
That surprised me.
“You're in therapy?”
“Twice a week.”
“For?”
He looked at me.
“Apparently my father turning human relationships into financial instruments had consequences.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Nate smiled.
Then his expression softened.
“I am sorry, Ava.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I don't mean because I got caught.”
He looked directly at me.
“I am sorry I saw how much you loved me and decided that made you easier to manipulate.”
My eyes filled.
“That was the worst part.”
“I know.”
“I wasn't stupid.”
“No.”
“I trusted my husband.”
“You did exactly what someone in love should have been allowed to do.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Nate did not touch me.
That mattered most.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
“All right.”
I walked away.
Twenty steps later, I turned.
He was still there.
“Nate.”
“Yes?”
“Coffee.”
He looked confused.
“What?”
“Tomorrow.”
Hope flashed across his face.
I raised a hand.
“Coffee is not forgiveness.”
“I understand.”
“It isn't reconciliation.”
“I understand.”
“And if you show up with flowers, I'm leaving.”
“No flowers.”
“Ten.”
“I'll be there.”
I drove away.
The next morning, Nate arrived at 9:52.
No flowers.
Two coffees.
One was exactly how I liked it.
I looked at the cup.
He noticed.
“Sorry. Is remembering your order manipulative?”
I laughed.
“No.”
“Good.”
We talked for three hours.
Then again the following week.
And the week after that.
We did not date.
Not yet.
We learned each other again.
This time without strategy.
Without family expectations.
Without money.
Six months later, Nate kissed me.
He asked first.
“Can I?”
I stared at him.
“You've kissed me approximately ten thousand times.”
“Different rules now.”
“Yes.”
“Yes I can kiss you?”
“Yes.”
The kiss was gentle.
Terrifying.
Real.
When we separated, Nate looked almost frightened.
“What?”
“I don't want to ruin this.”
“Then don't.”
Simple.
For the first time, maybe simple was enough.
Then, three days later, my father called.
“Ava.”
Something in his voice terrified me.
“What happened?”
“Daniel escaped federal custody during a hospital transfer.”
I stood.
“What?”
“He left a message.”
My stomach dropped.
“For whom?”
Dad went silent.
“For you.”
Then he read it.
You stole my company.
You destroyed my family.
Now I’m taking the one thing you still love.
My blood went cold.
“Nate.”
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a photograph arrived.
Nate.
Bound to a chair.
Blood on his face.
Daniel stood behind him.
A gun against his head.
And beneath the photograph were six words.
Come alone or your husband dies.
My hands shook.
My father said:
“Ava, you are not going.”
I looked at the photograph.
Then I remembered something Nate had finally taught me by changing.
Love was not deciding for someone else.
And courage was not obeying a monster because you were afraid.
May you like
“No,” I said.
“I’m not going alone.”
