The Intern Sat Beside Him, So I Took Everything in the Divorce Chapter 10

The Intern Sat Beside Him, So I Took Everything in the Divorce Chapter 10

The last meeting with Harold was in his study.

I’d been in that room many times. Every year, I’d sit there with tea, listening to him tell stories about the Fulton family’s rise, and he’d always end by saying how lucky they were to have me as their daughter-in-law.

No tea today.

On the desk sat a stack of documents—the settlement agreement my lawyers had drafted.

Harold sat across from me, looking years older than the last time.

“Scarlett, I’ve read this agreement.”

“Any issues?”

“No issues…” He sighed. “You’re always thorough.”

“Then sign.”

He picked up the pen, held it for a long moment, but didn’t put it down.

“Where’s Trevor?” I asked flatly.

Mrs. Fulton stood at the study door, traces of tears still on her face.

“Harold held a family meeting this morning. We know our position now … Trevor has been disowned.”

I looked at her but said nothing.

“All his shares are recalled. His personal assets are frozen. He won’t be included in any Fulton business or social events from now on.”

She paused, her throat tightening.

“He’s been … exiled from the family.”

“Where is he now?”

“He left. Packed a suitcase this morning and went—didn’t say where.”

Harold finally signed, then pushed the agreement toward me.

“Scarlett, the Fultons failed you.”

I put the documents in my bag and stood up. “Mr. Fulton, you’ve always been good to me. So has Mrs. Fulton. But your son isn’t.”

He closed his eyes and said nothing.

As I walked out the front gate, Natalie met me. “Ms. Hayes, news on Mirabel.”

“Yeah?”

“She packed up and went back to her hometown last night—Clearwater Springs. Her parents deleted all her social accounts, gave up her city apartment, and she’s now working at a small local supermarket.”

“No more stunts?”

“Her PR-friend got hit with a fifteen-thousand-dollar settlement and posted an apology on social media. Mirabel herself … seems like she’s out of fight.”

I got in the car and buckled up.

“And Trevor?”

“Rumor is he’s crashing with friends.” Natalie paused. “All his properties and cars were Fulton-owned, so they’ve been reclaimed. He reached out to three headhunters this morning, but …”

“But?”

“Everyone in the industry knows his story. No one’s willing to take him on.”

The car pulled away from the estate. In the rearview mirror, the grand gates grew smaller and smaller.

Back at the office, it was almost noon.

I sat down at my desk with the group’s next-quarter strategic plan.

Natalie brought in a cup of coffee. “Ms. Hayes, PR says the trending topic has died down naturally. Public discussion is mostly fading. Do we need any cleanup?”

“No. Everything that needed cleaning is done.”

She set down the coffee and hesitated. “Ms. Hayes, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you … okay?”

I looked up at her. “Do you think I shouldn’t be?”

She shook her head and smiled.

She didn’t say anything else, just turned and left.

The office fell quiet.

I opened the planning document. Three years ago, one line on this chart was marked for the Fultons. Now I’d erased it myself, and the space was already replanned.

My phone buzzed.

A news alert popped up: Trevor Fulton had posted a statement on social media that afternoon—admitting fault, apologizing to Hayes Group and Scarlett Hayes, and asking everyone to move on. Worded carefully. A clean exit.

But the timestamp was 1:17 p.m.—right around the time I figured he’d just been turned down by his last headhunter.

I swiped the notification away and took a sip of coffee.

Natalie knocked, and I waved her in. “Ms. Hayes, there’s a bid review at three for the new project. Do you want to see the materials in advance?”

“Bring them in.”

She placed a stack of files on my desk, then paused at the door.

“Oh, and Ms. Hayes—reception got a bouquet of flowers a while ago. No name on it, but the card had a few words.”

“What did it say?”

“I’m sorry.”

I turned a page in the bid documents.

“Throw it away.”