Chapter 4 - Confrontation in Gold and Glass
By eight o'clock the following morning, the rain had stopped, leaving Pittsburgh bathed in a blinding, icy sunlight.
Adam sat at his massive mahogany desk on the forty-second floor of the Bennett & Vance Development Corporation building. The panoramic glass walls offered a sweeping view of the Three Rivers, but Adam saw none of it. His eyes were bloodshot, his suit was wrinkled, and the stubble on his face was dark and uneven.
The door to his corner office slammed open without a knock.
Savannah walked in, looking immaculate in a cream-colored cashmere coat and high-heeled leather boots. She carried a paper cup from an artisanal coffee shop and held a small designer handbag under her arm.
“Adam!” she exclaimed, her tone a mix of irritation and theatrical worry. “I waited at the restaurant for an hour last night. You didn't pick up your phone. What on earth happened to you? You look like you slept in a ditch.”
Adam slowly raised his head. He looked at Savannah—her perfectly styled blonde hair, her flawless makeup, the subtle scent of expensive perfume that hovered around her. Just forty-eight hours ago, that scent had felt like freedom. Now, it smelled sickeningly sweet, like decay.
“Marina left,” Adam said flatly.
Savannah stopped three feet from his desk. She took a slow sip of her latte, setting the cup down on his polished glass conference table without a coaster.
“Well,” Savannah said softly, her voice taking on a carefully calculated softness. “Isn’t that what we wanted, ultimately? You told me yourself, Adam. You said the marriage had been dead for months. You said you were only staying until the baby was born so you didn't look bad to the board.”
“She’s gone, Savannah,” Adam said, his voice rising, raw and jagged. “She took Nell. She filed an emergency custody injunction. She knows about Naples. She has the hotel receipts. She has the valet logs. She has everything.”
Savannah’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing into two sharp, calculating slits. The warmth vanished from her face instantly.
“So what?” she snapped, crossing her arms. “You’re a partner in the largest real estate firm in Pennsylvania. You have five attorneys on retainer. You hire a firm, you file a counter-suit, and you tell the judge she’s an unstable postpartum mother who ran off with a infant. You turn it around on her.”
Adam stared at her, feeling a profound, terrifying wave of disgust.
“She had a hundred and three degree fever while I was lying on a beach with you,” Adam said softly. “Her surgical wound was infected. She couldn't even stand up to make formula, and I was drinking margaritas because you told me my family was 'holding me back.'”
“Oh, don’t you dare put this on me, Adam Bennett!” Savannah’s voice turned shrill, piercing the quiet luxury of the office. “You came to Florida willingly! You bought the plane tickets! You rented the suite! You were the one complaining that she didn't look at you the same way once her stomach started growing! You wanted an escape, and I gave it to you!”
“Get out,” Adam whispered.
Savannah froze. “What did you say?”
“Get out of my office,” Adam said, standing up. He was taller than her, but in that moment, he felt smaller than he had ever felt in his life. “Get out, Savannah. Don't call me. Don't come back here. We're done.”
Savannah let out a cold, sharp laugh. She straightened her cashmere coat and smoothed her gloves.
“You think kicking me out is going to bring her back?” Savannah sneered, stepping closer to the desk. “She doesn't want you, Adam. A woman like Marina—quiet, proud, patient—she endures a lot, but once she cuts you off, you’re dead to her. She took your daughter, she took your money, and she left you with an empty house. You’re not a victim here. You’re just a fool who paid for his own downfall.”
She turned on her heel and walked out, the click of her high heels echoing down the marble hallway like a series of small, sharp gunshots.
Adam sank back into his chair. He looked at his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably.
May you like
He pulled his laptop toward him, opened an encrypted messaging app, and typed out a message to Arthur Pendelton, the senior founding partner of Pittsburgh’s most formidable family law practice.
“Arthur. I need you. My wife took my daughter and filed for divorce. I need to find them today.”
