Chapter 53 The Wife

Chapter 53 The Wife
I caught Elizabeth in the parking garage before she could drive away.

“Wait!” I stepped in front of her car, hands raised. “Just give me five minutes. Please.”

For a moment, I thought she might drive around me and leave anyway. Instead, she turned off the engine and stepped out, her expression guarded.

“Five minutes,” she said coldly.

“Sophia is my ex-wife. Not my wife. Ex.” I forced myself to stay calm. “We were married ten years ago. It lasted six months. It ended amicably. It’s been over for a decade.”

“You never told me you’d been married.”

“I should have.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But Elizabeth, it was a brief, stupid mistake when I was twenty-six. Family pressure. Business alliances. Social expectations. It didn’t feel relevant to us.”

Her eyes flashed. “You made vows to someone, Royce. That’s relevant.”

“You’re right. It’s not nothing. But it wasn’t real—not the way you and I are real. We divorced cleanly. I haven’t spoken to her in eight years.”

“Until three weeks ago.”

“She contacted me about stock I didn’t know she still owned. Five percent of Sterling Corp. It was part of our divorce settlement. I assumed she’d sold it years ago.”

“And she didn’t.”

“No. And right now, with the board fractured and Walsh still circling, that five percent is critical.” I hesitated. “She’s offering to vote with me. To stabilize the company.”

“At a price,” Elizabeth said quietly.

“She wants her board seat reinstated.”

Elizabeth stared at me. “So your ex-wife is back in your business. Back in your daily life.”

“In the business, yes. Not in my life.” I stepped closer. “You’re the one I love. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“She doesn’t look like she thinks it’s just business.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I replayed the past three weeks in my mind—her casual touches, the lingering glances, the subtle familiarity. Elizabeth wasn’t imagining it.

“Even if she has feelings, I don’t,” I said firmly.

Elizabeth’s voice softened. “I came back today to tell you I was ready. Ready to try again. And instead I walk into your office and meet a woman I never knew existed, calling herself your wife.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling her into my arms. This time she didn’t resist. “I should have told you. I didn’t think it mattered. But it does. I see that now.”

She rested her forehead against my chest. “I’ve spent six weeks learning to be okay without you. And I came back because I missed you.”

“We can fix this,” I whispered. “Sophia is temporary.”

“Is she?”

“After the shareholders’ meeting, I’ll buy her out. Six months, at most.”

“Six months of your ex-wife at your side,” she murmured.

I didn’t have a good answer.

I convinced her to come back upstairs so we could talk privately. But when we entered my office, Sophia was still there—sitting in my chair, reviewing documents as if she belonged behind my desk.

She looked up with that polished smile. “There you are. I was worried Elizabeth had left.”

“We need privacy,” I said.

“Of course,” she replied smoothly, though she made no immediate move to leave. “Elizabeth, we should have lunch soon. We’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Elizabeth said quietly.

“Oh, but it is. We have so much in common. We’ve both been intimately involved with Royce.” She tilted her head sweetly. “Though I suppose I had the advantage of actually marrying him.”

“Sophia,” I warned.

“I’m only being friendly.” She lightly touched Elizabeth’s arm; Elizabeth flinched. “You’re so young. Everything feels dramatic at that age.”

“I’m leaving,” Elizabeth said.

Before I could stop her, Sophia added casually, “I should mention I’m staying at Royce’s penthouse while we finalize the board arrangement. Strategy sessions run late. It’s more convenient.”

Elizabeth froze. “You’re what?”

I turned to Sophia. “No. You’re not.”

“When I mentioned I’d need somewhere in the city and you said the guest room was available, I assumed that was an invitation.” Her expression was all innocence. “My things have already been moved in.”

My blood ran cold.

“It was my home first,” she added softly. “I helped design it. It feels like coming home.”

Elizabeth looked at me, devastation flickering behind her composure. “Your ex-wife is living in your penthouse.”

“Temporarily,” Sophia said. “Unless the board situation drags on.”

I felt the trap closing around me. I needed her vote. Without it, I could lose everything. But keeping her there meant risking Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” I said carefully, “this isn’t what it sounds like.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was tired. “You need her. And she knows it.”

“I can fix this.”

“Then prove it. Tell her she can’t stay. Choose me.”

The choice should have been simple. Sterling Corp was a company. Elizabeth was the woman I loved.

But Sterling Corp was also my grandfather’s legacy. My father’s life’s work. My identity.

“I’ll set boundaries,” I said. “But I need you to trust me.”

Elizabeth studied me for a long moment. “I want to trust you. But you’re asking me to accept your ex-wife living in your home.”

“It’s temporary.”

“Figure out your situation,” she said quietly. “Make a real choice. Then maybe we can talk.”

She left again.

The door closed, and the silence in my office felt suffocating.

“She’s very dramatic,” Sophia observed lightly. “You always did like intensity.”

I turned on her. “Get out of my penthouse.”

Her smile didn’t falter. “Of course. I’ll move to a hotel. But remember—my support on the board comes with conditions. Respect. Inclusion. And no choosing some girl you’ve known a few months over someone who understands your world.”

“Elizabeth is not ‘some girl.’”

Sophia stepped closer, her voice lowering. “You and I make sense, Royce. We always did. Work with me, and we could be unstoppable.”

“This conversation is over. Get out.”

She gathered her things slowly, deliberately. At the door, she paused and looked back with that same infuriating calm.

“After all,” she said softly, “it was my home first.”

And for the first time since the courtroom victory, I realized I wasn’t fighting Gregory Walsh anymore.

I was fighting a far more personal war—and this time, I might actually lose.