Chapter 3: The Empty Apartment
Nathaniel spent the remainder of the night inside a hotel suite bearing his family’s name.
He did not sleep.
He called Sophia twelve times.
She answered none of them.
At seven the next morning, he returned to the Central Park apartment, expecting the security staff to recognize him and quietly correct what he considered a temporary misunderstanding.
Instead, the doorman stepped forward.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cross. Your access has been revoked.”
Nathaniel removed his sunglasses.
“Open the door.”
“I’m not authorized to do that.”
“I live here.”
The doorman’s expression remained professional.
“The property manager has instructions from the Bennett Family Trust.”
Nathaniel looked through the glass doors at the marble lobby he had crossed for eight years.
For the first time, he understood that the building had never belonged to him.
Not legally.
Not financially.
Perhaps not even emotionally.
By noon, every director at Cross Global Holdings had received a confidential notice from Olivia Carter’s office. The notice identified suspicious transactions and demanded the preservation of company records.
Nathaniel arrived at headquarters furious.
His executive assistant stood when he entered.
“The board is waiting.”
“I didn’t schedule a meeting.”
“They did.”
Inside the conference room, twelve directors sat beneath the silver Cross Global emblem.
No one greeted him.
Board chairman William Prescott folded his hands.
“Nathaniel, we need you to explain several transfers linked to the Bennett Foundation.”
Nathaniel placed his briefcase on the table.
“This is a personal dispute between my wife and me.”
“Foundation assets are not personal.”
“The funds were part of an investment strategy.”
“Then where are the investment reports?”
Nathaniel glanced around the room.
People who had laughed at his jokes, praised his instincts, and celebrated his expansion plans now watched him like strangers.
“I’ll provide the documents.”
“When?”
“Within forty-eight hours.”
Prescott slid a folder toward him.
“Until then, the board has voted to place you on administrative leave.”
Nathaniel’s hand stopped above the folder.
“You cannot suspend me from my own company.”
“You own shares,” Prescott replied. “You do not own the board.”
Nathaniel left the building through the private garage to avoid reporters.
His phone rang before he reached his car.
Camille.
He answered immediately.
“What did you tell Sophia?”
Camille sounded offended.
“Nothing. Why would I speak to your wife?”
“She knows about Malibu.”
Silence followed.
Then Camille said, “You told me that property was clean.”
“It is.”
“You also told me the condominium couldn’t be traced.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
“Do not speak to anyone.”
“Nathaniel—”
“No attorneys. No reporters. No investigators.”
Camille’s voice cooled.
“You came to my bed last night smiling. Now you’re ordering me around like I’m responsible for your mistakes.”
The call ended.
Nathaniel sat alone inside his car.
His marriage was gone.
His home was closed to him.
May you like
His board had turned against him.
And the woman he had risked everything for was already protecting herself.
