In his eyes, my years of sacrifice were worthless. He had long since weighed the pros and cons, and I was simply the option to be discarded.
"Jonathan." My voice dropped to absolute zero. "We're done."
He froze.
His phone rang again. The timing was cruel.
He glanced at the screen and answered immediately, his voice dripping with concern. "Anna? What is it? Okay, I'm coming."
He hung up and looked at me, torn.
"Anna isn't feeling well. I have to take her to the hospital. Joanna, let's talk about us tomorrow, alright?"
I didn't answer.
He hesitated, then grabbed his coat and hurried for the door. On the threshold, he glanced back.
"Go home early."
The door clicked shut, swallowing the sound of his footsteps.
I slid down the wall, hugging my knees, and wept in silence.
Time dissolved into nothing.
When I finally stood, my legs were numb. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and walked to my office on autopilot.
The safe in the corner held everything.
At the very bottom lay the originals of three documents: the nominee shareholding agreement, the $150 million transfer voucher, and the letter my mother wrote before she passed.
The paper had yellowed, but her elegant handwriting remained sharp:
*Joanna, my biggest regret was letting my partner know my trump card. You must remember: a trump card is only revealed when it will deal the most damage. Strike only when it will be fatal.*
I pressed the letter to my chest and closed my eyes.
*Mom, I'm in so much pain.*
*Painful enough to finally play my hand.*
