The folder landed on Emma's desk with a soft thud that somehow felt deafening.
She'd been reviewing investment proposals all morning—three companies, all desperate for Phoenix Ventures' money. But this one. This one made her hands go cold.
Sterling Tech.
She knew that name. God, did she know that name. It was printed on the business cards she'd found in his coat pocket, the ones he'd handed out at parties while she smiled beside him like a good wife. The company he'd built while she'd... while she'd what? Shrunk herself down to fit into his shadow?
Her assistant Melissa didn't know. Nobody at Phoenix knew. Emma had been very careful about that.
"They're offering a Friday meeting slot," Melissa said from the doorway, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "They sound pretty desperate, honestly. Their stock's tanking."
Emma's finger traced the embossed logo on the folder. She didn't look up. Couldn't. "How desperate?"
"They need fifty million. They've got forty-eight hours before their board forces a hostile takeover."
Two days.
James had forty-eight hours before he lost everything.
The view from Emma's office never got old.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, the kind of view she used to dream about when she was riding the subway to her nonprofit job. When she was coming home to their cramped apartment—well, it hadn't felt cramped then. It felt like home.
Now she had this. A corner office on the fifty-second floor. Phoenix Ventures spread across three floors of prime real estate, and every inch of it was hers.
She'd built this.
From nothing. From less than nothing—from the ashes of a marriage that had burned her alive.
"Emma?"
Lena Chen stood in the doorway, two coffees in hand and that look on her face. The one that meant she knew something was wrong. Best friend, COO, and the woman who'd literally held Emma's hair back when she'd gotten drunk enough to throw up after signing the divorce papers.
"Don't," Emma said.
"Don't what?" Lena set down the coffees and closed the door behind her. Privacy. This was going to be a conversation.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to tell me I'm making a mistake." Emma finally looked up from the folder. "You read the file."
"Of course I read the file." Lena sank into the leather chair across from Emma's desk. She was wearing one of her power suits—navy blue, perfectly tailored. They'd come a long way from thrift store blazers and shared office space. "Sterling Tech. As in James Sterling. As in your ex-husband who broke your heart and married his assistant."
"Allegedly married," Emma corrected, voice flat. "I haven't exactly kept tabs."
Lena raised an eyebrow. The look said bullshit louder than words ever could.
Fine. Emma had googled him. Once. Maybe twice. Possibly seventeen times in the first month after the divorce, but who was counting?
"Their projections are terrible," Emma said, flipping through the proposal. Numbers didn't lie. Numbers were safe. "Product launch failed spectacularly. Consumer trust is in the toilet. Three major investors pulled out last quarter."
"So we pass. Easy decision."
"Three hundred employees, Lena."
"Who don't deserve to lose their jobs because their CEO is an idiot. I know." Lena leaned forward. "But Emma. This isn't just another investment. This is him."
The name hung in the air between them.
James.
Emma had three other proposals on her desk. A promising AI startup in Boston. A sustainable energy company in Seattle. A biotech firm that was genuinely going to change lives. She should choose one of those. She should forget Sterling Tech existed.
She should.
"Send them a representative," she heard herself say. "Someone from acquisitions. We'll attend the pitch meeting, hear them out, make an informed decision."
Lena relaxed slightly. "Okay. That's reasonable. Marcus can handle it."
"Actually." The word came out before Emma could stop it. "I'll take this one."
"Emma—"
"I need to see it for myself."
"No." Lena's voice went sharp. "No, you need to protect yourself. You've worked too hard to let him mess with your head again."
"He won't." Emma closed the folder with finality. She looked her best friend dead in the eye. "I'm not that woman anymore, Lena. I'm not the girl who sacrificed everything for a man who saw her as disposable. If I walk into that boardroom, I walk in as Emma Hartley, CEO of Phoenix Ventures. Not as James Sterling's ex-wife."
"And if seeing him brings it all back?"
Emma's smile was cold. Sharp enough to cut. "Then he'll get to see exactly what he threw away."
His eyes were cold. That's what she remembered most.
Not the words—though those had carved themselves into her bones. Not the way he'd slid the divorce papers across their dining room table like he was firing an employee. Not even the fact that he'd already moved his clothes out before telling her.
His eyes. Ice-blue and empty. Looking at her like she was a stranger.
"I need someone who challenges me, Emma. You've become... comfortable."
The word had felt like a slap. Comfortable. As if loving him, supporting him, putting her own career on hold so he could chase his dreams—as if all of that made her boring. Made her less.
"I'm in love with Sophia."
And just like that, six years had meant nothing.
Emma stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror of her walk-in closet.
That was two years ago. The woman in that memory—small, broken, apologizing for not being enough—she didn't exist anymore.
This woman? This woman wore Tom Ford like armor.
She'd chosen a charcoal suit, tailored to perfection. Silk blouse underneath, midnight blue. Heels that added three inches to her height. Hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that showed off the bone structure she'd forgotten she had when she was stress-eating ice cream on Lena's couch.
The diamond studs in her ears? Those were new. She'd bought them herself, with her first seven-figure profit.
No wedding ring. That ghost was gone.
The ring had made a small clinking sound when it hit his desk. He hadn't even looked at it.
Emma blinked the memory away.
Her phone buzzed. Lena: You don't have to do this.
She typed back: Yes, I do.
Because here's the thing—she'd spent two years building Phoenix Ventures into something untouchable. Something powerful. She'd made her name in tech investing, had been featured in Forbes, had spoken at conferences where people actually listened.
But there was still a part of her, small and wounded and hiding in the dark corners of her heart, that wondered if James ever regretted it. If he ever lay awake at night thinking about what he'd destroyed.
She needed to look him in the eye.
She needed to see him again, not as the man who'd shattered her, but as just another CEO begging for her money.
She needed this.
Emma grabbed her bag—Celine, because she could afford Celine now—and headed for the elevator. Her reflection in the chrome doors looked powerful. Confident. Untouchable.
She almost believed it.
Sterling Tech's headquarters was exactly what she expected. All glass and steel, trying too hard to look innovative. The kind of building that screamed "we're disrupting the industry" while slowly hemorrhaging cash.
Emma's heels clicked against the marble lobby floor. She'd brought two associates—Marcus from acquisitions and Jennifer from legal. They flanked her like bodyguards, tablets in hand, expressions neutral.
"Ms. Hartley." The receptionist lit up with recognition. "Mr. Sterling is expecting you in the executive boardroom. Fifteenth floor."
Mr. Sterling.
Emma's stomach did something complicated. She ignored it.
The elevator ride felt like it took forever and no time at all. Jennifer was saying something about contingencies, but Emma barely heard her. Her heart was doing this annoying thing where it forgot how to beat properly.
You're Emma Hartley. You own this moment.
The boardroom doors were glass. She could see them inside—James at the head of the table, mid-gesture. Talking to Marcus, who must've arrived early. A presentation glowed on the screen behind him. And there, sitting to his right with a leather portfolio and a hand resting on her rounded belly—
Sophia.
Pregnant. Very pregnant.
Something twisted in Emma's chest, sharp and hot. She crushed it down, buried it deep where it couldn't touch her.
Marcus saw her first. He stood, recognition flickering across his face—she'd told him to go in ahead, establish the scene. He'd played his part perfectly.
Emma pushed the doors open.
Time did this weird stutter-step thing. Like the universe held its breath.
James turned. Their eyes met.
And oh. Oh, the look on his face.
All the color drained from his skin. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. No sound came out. The presentation remote slipped from his fingers, clattered against the table.
"Emma?"
Her name came out like a prayer. Like a curse. Like he was seeing a ghost he never expected to face again.
She walked into the room with her head high, Marcus and Jennifer falling into step behind her. Power move. Let him see exactly who she'd become.
"Mr. Sterling." Her voice was cool. Professional. She could've been greeting a stranger. "I hope you don't mind that I decided to take this meeting personally."
Sophia's head whipped toward James, confusion written all over her perfect face. "You know her?"
Emma's smile was razor-sharp. "Oh, he knows me. Don't you, James?"
He was still staring. Still frozen. His eyes traveled over her—the suit, the confidence, the way she commanded the room—and she watched something like devastation dawn across his features.
Good.
Emma moved to the head of the table. Not the side. Not a guest chair. The head. The seat of power. She set down her bag with careful precision, and when she sat, everyone else scrambled to follow suit.
Except James. He was still standing, still looking at her like she'd reached into his chest and stopped his heart.
"Shall we begin?" Emma folded her hands on the table. "I understand Sterling Tech is seeking a significant investment. Fifty million, if I'm reading the proposal correctly."
"Emma, I—" James started.
"Ms. Hartley," she corrected, voice sharp as a blade. "We're here for business, Mr. Sterling. I suggest we keep it professional."
Sophia's hand tightened on her belly. Her eyes darted between Emma and James, and Emma watched the moment understanding clicked. The moment she realized exactly who Emma was.
The ex-wife.
James finally sat. He looked... God, he looked terrible, actually. Thinner than she remembered. Shadows under his eyes. The crisp suit couldn't hide the fact that he looked like a man who hadn't slept in weeks.
Emma felt nothing. Or at least, that's what she told herself.
"Your company is bleeding money," she said, flipping open the folder. All business now. "Product launch failure, investor withdrawal, consumer confidence at an all-time low. Your stock price has dropped forty percent in three months." She looked up, met his eyes. "Tell me why Phoenix Ventures should care."
James swallowed. She watched his throat work. "Because we can turn it around. With the right investment, the right restructuring—"
"Can you?" Emma's voice could've frozen water. "Because from where I'm sitting, Sterling Tech looks like a sinking ship. And I don't invest in sinking ships, Mr. Sterling. I invest in winners."
The word hung there. Winners. The same word he'd used when he left her. When he said he needed someone who fit his winning image.
She watched him hear it. Watched him flinch.
Sophia tried to help, pushing forward a folder of projections. "If you'd just look at our five-year plan—"
"I'm not interested in hearing from assistants." Emma didn't even glance at her. "Mr. Sterling is the CEO, isn't he? I'd like to hear from the man in charge."
The dismissal was brutal. Sophia's face went red, and Emma felt a dark satisfaction curl in her chest.
James tried. He really did. He walked through the presentation, talked about market opportunities, about the proprietary technology Sterling Tech had developed. But his voice kept catching. His eyes kept finding hers, and every time they did, he stumbled over his words.
He was unraveling.
Emma let the silence stretch after he finished. Let him sit there, desperate, waiting for her verdict.
Finally, she closed the folder. Stood. "I'll consider it."
"Emma—Ms. Hartley." James stood too, too quickly. "Please. Can we... can we talk? Privately?"
"You have other interested investors?" she asked instead.
His jaw tightened. "No."
"I see." Emma picked up her bag. "Then I suppose you'll be waiting to hear from Phoenix Ventures. We have other investment opportunities to consider. I'll have my team conduct due diligence."
She started to walk away. She almost made it to the door.
"Wait." James's voice cracked. "Please."
Emma stopped. Turned. And for the first time since she'd walked into this room, she let him see something real in her eyes. Something that wasn't ice-cold professionalism.
She let him see her fury.
She walked back to the table slowly. Deliberately. When she sat at the head of that table again, she looked at James Sterling—the man she'd loved, the man who'd destroyed her—and she smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
"You have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn't walk out of here and let Sterling Tech burn to the ground." Her voice was soft. Deadly. "Start with the truth this time."