Chapter 5 - The Pinnacle of Arrogance
Grant’s self-satisfied smirk faltered for a fraction of a second when he saw my smile.
“What is so funny?” he snapped, his insecurity instantly flaring beneath his polished veneer. “Are you losing your mind? Did the birth paperwork break whatever brain cells you had left?”
“Nothing is funny, Grant,” I replied, my voice chillingly serene. “I was just admiring your timing. It truly is remarkable how completely ignorant a man can be right before his entire existence collapses.”
Cynthia scoffed, stepping forward and crossing her arms. “Oh, stop with the melodramatic cliches, Tessa. You’re bitter because you got left behind. Grant is a rising star, and you’re nothing more than a mid-level government paper-pusher who’s about to become a single mother living on military alimony.”
Grant nodded in agreement, emboldened by Cynthia’s support.
“She’s right, Tessa,” Grant said, leaning over the foot of my bed, lowering his voice into a harsh, transactional whisper. “Let’s make this easy. Sign the uncontested divorce papers I left on the reception desk downstairs. Give up any claim to my current stock options, and I’ll be generous—I won’t fight you too hard for child support. You can keep your little government salary and your boring life.”
He looked around the sterile hospital room with a sneer of supreme superiority.
“You thought you could trap me with a baby, didn't you?” Grant continued, his arrogance reaching a fever pitch. “You thought playing the sweet, quiet military wife would keep me tied down while you stagnated. But I am moving up, Tessa. I am wealthy, I am powerful, and I have won. You are obsolete.”
He stood up straight, adjusting his lapels, looking at me as if I were a piece of trash he was about to sweep out the door.
“You have five minutes to sign those papers before I have my lawyers cut off your health benefits,” Grant delivered his final ultimatum with a chilling, triumphant smirk. “Goodbye, Tessa. Enjoy being nobody.”
He turned to Cynthia, offering his arm with theatrical chivalry. “Come on, darling. Let’s go celebrate our future. We have champagne waiting at the penthouse.”
“I wouldn't pop that champagne just yet, Grant,” I said softly.
They both stopped. Grant turned back around, a vein throbbing angrily in his temple.
“What did you say?”
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Before I could answer, a sharp, authoritative knock echoed against the heavy wooden door of my VIP suite.
Before Grant could bark a dismissive reply, the door swung wide open.
