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Part 6: The Ashes

The fallout was catastrophic.

The video of the gala went instantly viral. Desmond’s name trended globally under the hashtag #TechMonster. The public backlash was so severe that protesters gathered outside his corporate headquarters, demanding his resignation.

When Desmond tried to leave his office the next day, an angry mob swarmed his car. Someone threw a heavy metal chair through his windshield, striking him in the head.

He woke up in the hospital to find that his board of directors had ousted him. The investors had pulled their funding, triggering clauses that left him personally liable for millions in corporate debt. His company filed for bankruptcy within the week.

I finalized the divorce exactly three days later. Because of the irrefutable proof of his criminal tampering with my medication, my lawyers stripped him of his remaining assets in the settlement.

Desmond was left with absolutely nothing.

On the day I was scheduled to fly to Paris to begin a new life, I received a final, pathetic text message from him.

[I lost everything. I’m sorry, Aria. I really did love you.]

I didn’t reply. I deleted the message, blocked the number, and dropped my phone into my purse.

As I boarded my first-class flight, looking out the window at the Manhattan skyline fading into the distance, I felt a profound, beautiful sense of peace.

He had built me a glass castle to trap me.

But he forgot that glass shatters. And I was the one holding the hammer.

THE END