Unremembered Beforefall by Mark Twain 1
Chapter 1 The Verdict on the Desk
Chapter 1 The Verdict on the Desk
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The divorce agreement was delivered by his assistant and laid before me like a verdict. It demanded my voluntary demotion-from wife to “live-in girlfriend”-a neatly packaged disgrace to make room for Teresa Easton, the new face who endorsed his brand.
I signed. Jasmine Watson. The pen moved smoothly, a stark contrast to the fracture it finalized. Kevin Stephenson’s voice was still cool and calibrated, his arm slinging around his new investment. “The role of Mrs. Stephenson requires pedigree. An influencer?” He paused, letting the word hang, toxic and thin. “Be realistic, Jasmine. Are you even qualified?”
The next day, Stephenson Group was swarmed by guards of a global financial entity.
Men in black suits moved with silent efficiency, sealing the Stephenson Group’s headquarters floor by floor.
In the conference room, the head of those emissaries knelt in front of me. “Ms. Watson,” he stammered, “Your father says your little… experiment is over. It’s time to come home.”
Across the room, Kevin and Teresa scrambled back, their chairs screeching a discordant symphony of panic against marble.
As I accepted the matte black card-an object of silent, absolute power-Charles Loggins, the head of my security, swept his gaze across the stunned assembly.
“We’ve received word,” he said, his voice low, devoid of heat, and terrifying for it, “that someone has threatened the sole heir of Horizon Capital.”
Back in Kevin’s office, the air conditioning hummed a constant, arctic tune, and the agreement still lay on the cold granite desk.
His assistant avoided my eyes, his voice a monotone stripped of all empathy. “Mr. Stephenson believes this… simplifies matters. Ms. Easton’s public image is more aligned with the brand’s future needs. She requires the status that comes with the title.”
I lifted my gaze..
Beyond the sweeping glass, the city pulsed with indifferent life, a river of steel and light.
And there he was-Kevin-with Teresa, the latest It girl, a breakout star, tucked against him on the lounge sofa, trading quiet laughs that felt too intimate for the room.
She wore that season’s couture, a slash of crimson on her fingertips tracing his collar.
Her eyes met mine, broadcasting scorn and victory.
Finishing murmuring to her, he finally deigned to approach me. That familiar, condescending smile played on his lips.
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Tue, Jan 20
Chapter 1 The Verdict on the Desk
“Jasmine, let’s end this on good terms.”
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He tapped the document with a manicured finger. “The title of Mrs. Stephenson requires pedigree. Tangible benefits. A washed-up influencer who trades on her face… Be realistic, Jasmine. Are you qualified?”
His tone was flat, a clinical observation, yet it carved a hollow of shame inside me.
“Sign it, and the penthouse is yours. Plus thirty million. Be a good… ‘friend’. Keeping things civil between us will only help you, Jasmine. In your industry—or whatever’s left of it—that kind of image still sells. It’s the smartest move you’ve got.”
I hadn’t yet formed a response when Teresa detached herself from the sofa and swayed over.
“Jasmine,” she simpered, her voice dripping with fake concern. “don’t be upset with Kevin. He’s only thinking of the company’s future. Besides,” she added, her smile a razor blade, “we can all still be such good friends.”
Three years of marriage. I had stood beside him when his name meant nothing, weaving a web of connections and resources he never knew existed.
When his finances had first crumbled, it was I who had quietly sold the last precious piece of my mother’s jewelry—a final, tangible link to her-to keep his dream afloat.
All of it. And in his eyes, it had distilled down to “Are you qualified?” And a payoff so paltry it felt like an added insult.
I didn’t look at Teresa’s carefully composed face. I just reached for the gold Parker
pen.
My name flowed from the nib, smooth and irrevocable. No hesitation.
“Generous terms,” I said, setting the pen down. A smile touched my lips, cold and sharp. “My sincerest wishes to you and Miss Easton. May you be eternally., entangled. Spare the rest of the world your particular brand of collaboration.”
His face tightened, a flicker of something-irritation, perhaps-at my ease, at the blade in my words. But Teresa was already pulling him back.
“Oh, Kevin, I knew you’d take care of everything,” she purred, practically hanging off him. Her eyes were all heat and invitation-like she might start the show right there in front of everyone.
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