Chapter 10 - The Boardroom
I attended the meeting.
Not for Aaron.
For the five hundred employees who had watched my marriage end in a Slack channel and who now faced losing their jobs because powerful people had lied for decades.
Richard resigned.
Margaret testified.
Federal authorities froze fraudulent accounts.
Prescott Global survived, but barely.
Aaron stood before the board.
“My family created this problem,” he said. “We don't get to hide from the consequences.”
Then he recommended independent oversight.
Including me.
I declined the permanent position.
But I agreed to ninety days.
Aaron didn't argue.
Over those three months, I watched him change.
Not dramatically.
Real change rarely looks dramatic.
He stopped arriving late.
Stopped protecting people because of their surnames.
Stopped treating employees as extensions of corporate machinery.
And, most importantly, stopped asking me to return.
Our divorce moved forward.
One afternoon, he signed the settlement.
He wanted me to keep the house.
I refused.
“I don't want it.”
“Claire—”
“No.”
He nodded.
Then signed.
There was no fight.
No manipulation.
No grand speech.
When he finished, he slid the papers toward Nathan.
Then looked at me.
“I hope you're happy.”
I expected bitterness.
There was none.
“You too,” I said.
His smile was sad.
“I'm working on deserving that.”
I left.
Outside, I cried in my car for twenty minutes.
Leaving someone you once loved does not become painless simply because leaving is correct.
Sometimes the right decision hurts exactly because it is right.
Three weeks later, Jasmine asked to meet me.
We sat in a small café.
She looked healthier.
“I owe you an apology.”
“You already apologized.”
“Not properly.”
She folded her hands.
“I knew Aaron was married. I knew I depended on him too much. Even if nothing physical happened, I let myself occupy space that belonged to your marriage.”
I appreciated the honesty.
“Aaron allowed it.”
“Yes.”
“And I allowed things too.”
She looked surprised.
“I spent years pretending silence made me dignified. Sometimes silence is just fear wearing better clothes.”
Jasmine smiled faintly.
“What will you do now?”
I looked outside.
For the first time in years, I didn't know.
And it felt wonderful.
“I'll figure it out.”
Prescott Global stabilized.
Richard accepted responsibility for obstruction-related offenses connected to the historical cover-up.
Thomas Cole faced far more serious charges.
Margaret cooperated.
Hale Meridian recovered the diverted funds it could trace.
And Aaron?
Aaron remained CEO only after the board imposed independent controls.
For the first time in his life, being a Prescott wasn't enough.
He had to earn people's trust.
Including his own.
Six months after our divorce became final, I received an invitation.
Prescott Global's annual employee gathering.
I almost threw it away.
Then I noticed a handwritten line at the bottom.
No speeches about marriage. Promise.
Aaron.
I laughed.
Against my better judgment, I went.
And when I entered the ballroom, five hundred employees who once knew me only as Aaron Prescott's wife stood and applauded.
I froze.
Aaron remained across the room.
He didn't approach.
Didn't claim credit.
Nathan appeared beside me.
“Confused?”
“Very.”
“They know what you did during the restructuring.”
“I did my job.”
“Apparently people appreciate that.”
I looked toward Aaron.
He raised his glass slightly.
Nothing more.
For the first time, he was giving me space without disappearing.
And I wondered whether people could truly become different after losing everything they assumed would always remain.
I wasn't ready to answer.
May you like
Not yet.
But life, apparently, wasn't finished asking me the question.
