His Mother Wanted Divorce, I Wanted His Company Bankrupt

Elena's POV

The conference room light is too bright. It's reflecting off the polished table, casting harsh shadows across Ryan's face. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan is glittering. Those same lights we used to watch together from the NexTech office. Back then, Ryan said we'd conquer this city together.

Now we can't even look at each other without it hurting.

The lawyer clears his throat for the third time in ten minutes. Middle-aged, balding, clearly uncomfortable. Ryan pushes a stack of documents across the table. His fingers are trembling slightly.

"Elena, sign this and it's over. B round closes tomorrow. You get your compensation, we part on good terms."

I don't look up from the papers. "Good terms."

The words taste bitter.

Ryan's wedding ring catches the light. Mine's been off for weeks. My fingers drum against the table. An old habit when I'm nervous, though I'd never admit it.

Good terms. The irony isn't lost on me. Three years of secret marriage, and now even our breakup requires an NDA.

I lift my head. My eyes meet his. "Ryan, tell me something. How much is three years of marriage worth to you?"

He freezes. His mouth opens, then closes. No words come out.

The lawyer shifts in his seat, pretending to study his documents. The rustling paper is deafening in the silence.

"What do you mean?" Ryan's voice is cautious now.

I pick up my pen. Slowly, deliberately, I write in the cash compensation column: $2,500,000.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Ryan's chair scrapes back as he shoots to his feet.

I set down the pen, lean back, and let myself smile. Cold and sharp. "You price my technology. I price our marriage. Fair trade, dear husband."

The pen dug so hard into the paper it nearly tore through. Ryan's knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the table, his whole body tense.

"This isn't about the money! Elena, you know—"

"What do I know?" I cut him off, my voice rising despite myself. "That you raised your hand at that board meeting three days ago? That you said 'this is business' like it justified everything? Or that you never actually intended to treat me as an equal partner?"

I watch him close his eyes. Good. He should hurt. Three years of this. It's his turn to feel what betrayal tastes like.

"I thought you'd understand..." His voice is pleading now. "The company needs this funding—"

I stand up. My voice is shaking but I keep it controlled. "The company needs it. Your mom needs it. The investors need it. What about me, Ryan? When did you ever consider what I need?"

He reaches out.

"Don't touch me." I step back.

His hand freezes in mid-air, then drops to his side.

The lawyer is doing his best impression of a piece of furniture.

"Three years of secret marriage." My words come out measured, precise. "At your family gatherings, I was the 'business partner.' To investors, the 'CTO.' In your mother's eyes, 'that woman who's not good enough for my son.'"

My voice drops. Goes cold. "You said you know me best, Ryan. Then you should know the thing I fear most in this world is becoming like my mother. Giving up everything for a man, and ending up with nothing."

The color drains from Ryan's face completely.

I turn toward the window. Can't look at him anymore. The reflection in the glass shows someone I barely recognize. But there's another image bleeding through, from three years ago.

A sunny afternoon. Boston City Hall. I'm wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, holding a small bunch of daisies. Five-dollar flowers Ryan grabbed from a corner bodega. Young and nervous and hopeful.

"I know this isn't the wedding you deserve." Ryan squeezes my hand. His eyes are sincere, full of promise. "No family, no friends, no white dress. But I promise—"

"I don't need a white dress, Ryan." I'm smiling then, really smiling. "I just need you to remember today."

"Remember what?"

"Remember we're a team. Equal partners." I look at him seriously. "Your dream is mine, mine is yours. We'll create something amazing together, and then..." My face flushes. "Then maybe someday, we can tell the whole world."

He kisses my forehead. "I promise. When the company goes public, I'll give you the grandest wedding. Everyone will know you're my wife, the thing I'm most proud of in my life."

"Ready?" The clerk is waiting.

We look at each other and grin. "I do."

That promise sounds like a cruel joke now.

The memory shifts. Fragments.

Thanksgiving dinner. A year ago. The Walsh family townhouse in Boston.

Crystal chandeliers. Silver cutlery. Oil paintings in gilded frames. Everything screaming old money, old power.

Diane sits at the head of the table, examining me.

"Elena, Ryan mentioned you're the technical lead at the company?" Her tone is polite. Ice underneath.

"Yes, Mrs. Walsh."

"That's wonderful. Though at a certain point, girls should think about family. You're what, twenty-eight?"

Before I can answer, she's already turning to Ryan. "Your cousin Sarah got engaged last month. Marrying the younger Andersen boy. Perfect match. Both families are very pleased."

The implication hangs in the air. Other relatives at the table exchange knowing looks.

In the car afterwards, I stare out at the dark road. "She'll never accept me."

Ryan's hands are tight on the wheel. He won't look at me. "Give her time. She just needs to see how good we are together."

"Ryan. When can we go public?"

Silence. Then: "Soon. Let's wait until the B round closes. The timing will be better."

I don't say anything else. Just stare at the simple band on my finger. Suddenly it feels heavy.

My phone buzzes, pulling me back to the present. The IP lawyer. I answer, listen for a few seconds. My expression goes colder with each word.

I hang up. Look at Ryan. "I have one last question."

"What?" His voice is wary.

"The board meeting. That equity dilution proposal. When did you know about it?"

Ryan's silence is the answer. He drops his gaze, can't meet my eyes.

"Your mother told you beforehand, didn't she?" I'm not asking. I'm stating facts. "You two planned it. Waited until the day after I got back from that trip to suddenly call a vote. Even Tom and Lisa were convinced at the last minute."

"Elena, it wasn't targeting you—"

"Not targeting me?" My laugh is sharp. "Ryan. That 40% equity was my veto power. The protection we agreed on when we started this company. Your mother diluted it to 34%. I lost that vote. How is that not targeting me?"

I gather my papers, pick up my bag.

"You know me best, don't you?" I walk toward the door. "Then you should've known from the start. I won't sign this."

"Elena, please." Ryan is standing, his voice breaking. "We can renegotiate the terms—"

I stop at the door. Don't turn around.

"There's nothing to negotiate anymore, Ryan. See you tomorrow at the product launch. Hope you're ready."

The door opens. Hallway light floods in. Ryan wants to follow. I can feel it. But he's rooted to the spot.

The door closes. The sound is soft.

To Ryan, it sounds like the whole world collapsing.