If you won't authorize the $35,000 credit expansion, you're worthless to this firm, my business partner snapped.
Nia’s touch was cool and steady, a stark contrast to the burning pain on my face. She dabbed aloe vera gel across my cheekbones, tracing the red, angry lines left by Julian’s coffee. The smell of fresh aloe was almost too strong, making my eyes water.
“Hold still, love,” she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern. “We need to get this covered properly.”
I nodded, wincing as she taped a small gauze pad near my temple. The emergency injunction notice lay on the small kitchen island between us, its formal language a cold, hard slap. Julian was claiming I stole Savor & Soul’s recipes.
“He wants to bury us,” I rasped, the words catching in my throat.
Nia smoothed my hair back from my forehead. “He won’t. We’re stronger than this.”
Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, my fingers fumbling. An anonymous text message. No number, just a file attached.
“Who is it?” Nia asked, leaning closer.
I tapped open the attachment. My stomach dropped. It was a PDF document, old legal billing receipts from my divorce. The dates were from eighteen months ago.
My eyes scanned the firm name: “Cross & Finch LLP.” That was my ex-wife’s high-powered attorney. The one who had dismantled my life, piece by piece, until I had nothing left but debt.
Then I saw the payment line. A direct transfer from a corporate account. An account I recognized instantly. Julian Carter had paid it.
My breath hitched. My hands started to shake, the phone nearly slipping from my grasp.
“Marcus? What is it?” Nia’s voice was urgent. She took the phone from me, her eyes widening as she read.
“He… he funded it,” I whispered, staring blankly at the kitchen wall. “Julian financed my ex-wife’s whole legal strategy. He wanted me bankrupt.”
The betrayal was a physical blow, heavier than any coffee cup. It wasn’t just about Savor & Soul. This went back years. Julian had systematically destroyed me, then offered me a lifeline, only to take it all away again. He’d planned this.
My knees buckled. I sank onto a kitchen stool, my head in my hands. The room spun. The familiar dread of insolvency, of losing everything, clawed at my throat.
“Marcus, look at me.” Nia knelt in front of me, her hands gripping my arms. Her eyes were fierce, unwavering.
“He set me up,” I choked out, tears finally breaking through. “From the very beginning. He waited for me to lose everything. He bought my equity cheap.”
“I don’t care about that,” Nia said, her voice cutting through my despair. “I care about *you*. The man you are right now. The man I love.”
She pulled me into a tight embrace, her warmth a shield against the cold, calculated cruelty of Julian’s actions. My face burned, but it was the pain in my chest that truly overwhelmed me.
“Your past doesn’t define our future,” she insisted, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “What he did, that’s on him. We build something new. Together.”
I held onto her, finding a sliver of peace in her unwavering strength. The legal notice was still on the island, a stark reminder of the fight ahead. But with Nia, the fight felt possible.
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