She looked monumental.
“I wrote the code you stole, Marcus,” she said quietly. “I fixed the disasters you created. I was the foundation of this house while you were busy admiring the view from the balcony.”
She stepped closer.
“You thought I was small because I stood in your shadow.”
Then she leaned in.
“But you forgot something basic about gardening.”
“You have to dig through the dirt to find the roots.”
“And my roots go deeper than you could ever imagine.”
The doors burst open.
Federal agents rushed in.
“Marcus Ashford Sterling,” one announced, “you are under arrest for securities fraud, grand larceny, and corporate espionage.”
As they cuffed him, Marcus looked at Elena, tears in his eyes. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the terrified realization of a man who had flown too close to the sun on wings made of stolen wax.
“Elena, please,” he begged. “Help me. We were partners.”
Elena looked at him, her expression unreadable.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope he had given her three days earlier—the settlement offer.
She slipped it into his jacket pocket as the agents dragged him away.
“You’ll need this,” she said calmly.
“For the prison commissary.”
Six Months Later