Chapter 7 - The Beggar in the Bed
The trauma room smelled of antiseptic, copper, and iodine. Monitors beeped rhythmically in the dim corner.
Andrew lay in the central hospital bed. His head was bandaged, his lip split and stitched, his left arm encased in a hard plaster cast. IV lines snaked into his wrists.
When the door clicked shut, his eyes fluttered open. The moment he recognized me standing at the foot of his bed, a look of profound, pathetic relief washed over his battered face.
"Maya..." he rasped, his voice a dry, agonizing croak. "Thank God... thank God you're here..."
I stood at the edge of his bed, my hands folded neatly inside the pockets of my trench coat. My face was completely devoid of emotion.
"How are you feeling, Andrew?" I asked softly.
"I was stupid, Maya! I was so stupid!" tears spilled from the corners of his bruised eyes, running down into his bandaged jaw. "Victoria... she lied to me! She lied to everyone! She and Vance were stealing everything from the company! They were going to frame you, Maya! They were going to blame you for the missing thirty thousand dollars!"
"I know," I said.
Andrew paused, blinking through his pain. "You... you know?"
I reached into my handbag, pulled out my smartphone, and hit play on the voice recording from our anniversary night.
“A barren wife like her has no place in this family anyway... She’ll be gone before she even realizes what happened.”
The sound of his own arrogant voice echoing off the sterile tiles of the trauma room hit Andrew harder than any physical blow. His face turned a sickly, ghost-white shade.
"You recorded us..." he whispered in sheer horror.
"I recorded everything, Andrew," I said, my tone as calm and cold as arctic ice. "I know about the hotel. I know about the planned embezzlement frame-job. I know about your post-nuptial agreement. And I know that Marcus Sterling delivered the full dossier to the Board of Directors thirty minutes ago."
Andrew began to hyperventilate, the heart monitor beside his bed spiking into a frantic, high-pitched rhythm.
"Maya, please!" he begged, reaching out his uninjured hand, his fingers trembling as he tried to grasp my coat. "I made a mistake! Victoria manipulated me! She sedated my judgment! You're my wife, Maya! We've been together for ten years! You can't let the board strip my shares! You have to tell them we're working through this! You have the legal power to pause the asset freeze under the post-nup!"
I looked down at his shaking, desperate hand.
"Ten years, Andrew," I said softly. "I gave you ten years of my life. I covered your mistakes, built your social standing, and endured your family’s insults. And on our tenth anniversary, while I was baking your dinner, you were laughing about throwing me into the street with nothing."
"I was wrong! I'll give you everything! I'll put the house in your name! Just help me!" he sobbed openly now, a disgraced titan begging his 'barren wife' for mercy.
I leaned down, bringing my face close to his.
"You don't have a house to give me, Andrew," I whispered smoothly into his ear. "By eight o'clock tomorrow morning, the board will officially terminate your position as CEO. The state prosecutor will file conspiracy and fraud charges against you, Victoria, and Dr. Vance. And my lawyers will serve you with divorce papers that execute Paragraph 14."
"Maya... please... don't destroy me..." he whimpered.
I stepped back, smoothing down the lapel of my trench coat.
May you like
"I didn't destroy you, Andrew," I said with a serene smile. "You destroyed yourself. I just captured it on high-definition audio."
I turned my back on him and walked toward the door.
