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Chapter 4: The Scorched Earth

When I woke up, the blinding white lights of a private VIP hospital room assaulted my eyes. The sharp, chemical smell of antiseptic burned my nose.

“I’ve never met a patient as stubbornly suicidal as you.”

I turned my head slowly. Sitting in the armchair beside my bed was Leo. He was gripping the armrests, his eyes red and swollen.

I really didn’t have the strength to answer him, so I just forced a weak, strained smile.

“Don’t smile. It looks worse than you crying,” Leo snapped, though his voice cracked with raw emotion. “Are you really not going to tell the board? Or the family?”

“No need. They only care about the stock prices anyway,” I whispered, my throat dry as sandpaper. I tried to reach out and pat his arm, but the heavy IV needle taped to the back of my hand pulled, causing blood to flow back up the clear plastic tube. I stopped moving.

Leo was my younger half-brother. The venture capital firm was originally founded by my late mother, which was the direct reason I held the absolute controlling shares. Because of my inheritance, my father and my stepmother despised me, but Leo had always been fiercely, unconditionally loyal to me.

Leo had discovered my terminal diagnosis a month ago. He was the only one who knew.

“But you’re going to die soon,” Leo choked out, tears finally spilling over his eyelashes, dropping onto the pristine white bedsheets.

“Okay, Leo. Don’t cry anymore,” I patiently comforted him, feeling a strange sense of detachment, as if he were the one who had received the death sentence, not me.

I stayed in the hospital for two consecutive days, constrained by a barrage of aggressive medical orders and pain management drips. Finally, on the third day, I couldn’t tolerate the sterile confinement anymore. I ripped the IV needle out of my vein, wrapped a heavy coat over my hospital gown, and sneaked out the service elevator.

My health was deteriorating rapidly. The lead oncologist repeatedly begged me to begin aggressive chemotherapy to buy a few more months.

But I had lived my entire life brilliantly, ruthlessly, and proudly. There was absolutely no need to reduce myself to a bald, bedridden, pathetic shell of a woman in my final moments. I categorically refused the treatment.

I figured by now, Gavin must have received the signed divorce agreement from his vice president. It was the most logical, merciful thing I had ever done, but also the most agonizingly painful.

I didn’t go home. I went directly to the corporate headquarters of my venture capital firm.

I bypassed my office and marched straight into the executive boardroom, convening an emergency, mandatory shareholders’ meeting.

“For personal health reasons, I have decided to officially resign as Chairman of the Board, effective immediately,” I announced, standing at the head of the long glass table, skipping all pleasantries.

A loud, chaotic commotion erupted among the fifty executives in the room.

“Ms. Rowan, this is completely unprecedented! A new chairman requires a transition period!” one of the senior partners protested loudly.

I tapped my knuckles lightly twice on the glass table. The room instantly fell dead silent. My authority was absolute.

I transferred all my voting power to Leo, legally insulating him from our father’s influence.

Before I left the building, I walked into my private executive suite. I sat behind my massive desk, looking out over the sprawling city skyline.

I picked up the phone and called Hayes.

“Hayes. From this second forward, sever all financial, logistical, and developmental support for Gavin’s conglomerate. Terminate every single un-finalized contract. Recall the software licensing. Bleed them dry.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Hayes replied without a single second of hesitation.

If I had still felt guilty about separating Gavin and Vivian, or if I still held onto the pathetic shreds of my unrequited love, the hospital corridor had vaporized it into thin air. No one was allowed to repeatedly disrespect me. Not even the man I loved.

I was happily finalizing the purchase of a remote, secluded estate in a small coastal town in the Pacific Northwest to quietly live out my final weeks, while Gavin’s corporate empire was plunging into absolute, catastrophic freefall.

Chapter 5: The Collapse

“A bunch of incompetent, useless cowards!”

Gideon hurled a stack of rejected contracts across his massive, corner-office desk. The papers scattered across the floor like dead leaves. In just forty-eight hours, more than a dozen critical supply-chain partners had unilaterally terminated their agreements.

“Sir, this notice just arrived from the Rowan Group,” his VP stammered, holding a red-flagged document. “They’ve revoked our patent licensing. We can’t legally operate our primary logistics software.”

“The Rowan Group canceled the licensing? How is that possible? We’ve been integrated with them for three years!” Gavin felt a blinding, pounding headache forming behind his eyes.

Desperate, Gavin spent the next six hours calling the CEOs of the companies that had canceled their contracts. He begged, he negotiated, he offered massive concessions.

“Gavin, let’s not talk about the contracts right now. The market is shifting. We’ll revisit this next fiscal year,” one CEO politely, firmly rejected him before hanging up.

“Damn it! What is the real reason?!” Gavin finally screamed into the phone at a long-time associate. “We were doing record profits last quarter!”

“Let me put it to you bluntly, Gavin,” the older executive sighed through the receiver. “The only reason any of us tolerated your arrogant restructuring was out of respect for your wife’s venture firm. Without Rowan backing your play, your paper empire is a massive liability. Did you really think you achieved all this growth on your own merit?”

The line went dead.

Gavin slumped back into his leather ergonomic chair, looking like a deflated, hollowed-out shell of a man. The smooth, brilliant sailing of the past three years hadn’t been his own genius. It had been her. She had been the invisible shield deflecting every torpedo aimed at his hull. At first, he genuinely believed he was a rare, untouchable corporate prodigy. He had looked down on her.

Over the next week, the damage became apocalyptic. Party A vendors demanded immediate compensation for breach of contract. Suppliers halted shipments. In an instant, the stock value of his conglomerate plummeted to rock bottom, easily trampled upon by the market sharks.

“Gavin, why don’t you just go find Rowan and see what she wants?” Vivian suggested softly, sitting on his office sofa, filing her nails. She knew Rowan had helped the family, but she didn’t comprehend that Rowan was the actual lifeblood of the entire organization.

Suddenly, Gavin’s eyes widened. He frantically rummaged through the chaotic mess of papers on his desk. “Where is the manila envelope? The one Rowan dropped off at reception last week?”

“Oh, that?” Vivian pointed casually to the heavy-duty industrial paper shredder in the corner of the room. “I saw it had her name on it. I was in a bad mood, and every time I see her things, it upsets me. I shredded it.”

Gavin stared at the machine in sheer, unadulterated horror.

“Darling, don’t be mad at me,” Vivian pouted, her lower lip trembling as she stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck, playing the victim.

“I… I don’t blame you,” Gavin sighed, rubbing his face, suppressing the urge to scream. He had to go find Rowan. He had to see what she really wanted.

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