Too Late CEO: I Am Taking Everything

Eleonora stepped off the executive elevator into the subterranean VIP parking garage.

The air down here was damp and smelled of exhaust and expensive rubber. The motion-sensor fluorescent lights flickered on sequentially as she walked, casting long, eerie shadows against the concrete walls. The sharp click-clack of her heels echoed loudly in the cavernous space.

Inside her leather tote bag, the small, beautifully wrapped box containing the knitted baby shoes felt heavy. Her heart beat a little faster. This was it. The final test of their marriage.

She turned the corner past a massive concrete support pillar.

Julian's sleek, black Maybach was parked in his reserved spot. The headlights were off, but the engine was running, emitting a low, powerful purr.

Eleonora took a deep breath, smoothing down her skirt. A small, hopeful smile touched her lips. She walked toward the driver's side door.

When she was about thirty feet away, her footsteps faltered.

The Maybach's windows were heavily tinted with privacy glass, but the harsh overhead garage lights caught the reflection just right. She could see two silhouettes inside the front cabin.

Eleonora stopped dead in her tracks. A cold prickle of dread washed over her skin.

She moved silently, stepping to the right to get a better angle through the front windshield.

The overhead light illuminated the passenger seat perfectly.

Sitting there was Seraphina.

She had changed out of her coffee-stained red suit. She was now wearing a soft, oversized white knit sweater that made her look incredibly small and fragile. She had her head turned, looking adoringly toward the driver's seat.

Eleonora's feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. Her lungs completely stopped working. The hopeful smile on her face shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Inside the car, Julian leaned his entire upper body over the center console, invading the passenger seat.

From Eleonora's angle outside the windshield, Julian's entire upper body was draped over the center console, invading the passenger seat. His arm was wrapped securely around Seraphina's body, his head bowed so low it was practically buried in the crook of her neck. It wasn't a kiss, but the posture was suffocatingly intimate, radiating a fierce, possessive protectiveness that completely obliterated the boundaries of a brother and sister.

A violent wave of nausea hit Eleonora so hard she nearly doubled over. Acid burned the back of her throat.

She stumbled backward, practically throwing herself behind the thick concrete pillar. She pressed her back against the rough, cold stone, slapping both hands over her mouth to muffle her own gasping breaths.

A few seconds later, Julian sat back in the driver's seat.

He had just been leaning over to buckle Seraphina's seatbelt.

But the realization offered no comfort. The passenger seat of his car was a sacred space. The intimacy of him leaning over her, buckling her in like a cherished lover, was a knife straight to Eleonora's heart.

Through the glass, she saw Seraphina say something. Julian laughed. He reached out and affectionately ruffled Seraphina's hair.

The visual of his large hand stroking her hair burned into Eleonora's retinas.

Her fingers dug so fiercely into the leather strap of her tote bag that her joints ached. The baby shoes hidden inside her bag suddenly felt like a toxic, humiliating joke.

Half an hour ago, he had called her, his voice dripping with love, asking her to a private dinner to "celebrate." And here he was, with the woman who had tried to destroy her career just hours before.

Suddenly, the Maybach's driver-side door popped open.

Julian stepped out of the car. He walked toward the trunk.

Eleonora held her breath. She pressed herself flat against the pillar, terrified he would see her. Her heart hammered so violently she thought it might break her ribs. She debated running out and screaming at him, but her body refused to move.

The passenger door opened.

Seraphina stepped out into the garage. She walked around the front of the car and approached Julian.

Without a word of hesitation, Seraphina slipped her arm through Julian's, pressing her body against his side.

Julian didn't push her away. He didn't even flinch.

Instead, he looked down at her wrist. "Does the burn still hurt?" he asked. His voice echoed slightly in the empty garage, thick with tender concern.

"It only hurts when you're not looking at me, Julian," Seraphina cooed, resting her head on his shoulder.

As she said it, Seraphina turned her head. Her eyes looked directly past Julian's shoulder, staring straight at the concrete pillar where Eleonora was hiding.

Eleonora's blood turned to ice.

She shrank back into the shadows, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.

Seraphina knew she was there. She had seen her approaching. The seatbelt, the hair ruffle, the arm-holding-it was all a calculated, theatrical performance designed specifically to torture Eleonora.

A wave of pure, unadulterated humiliation crashed over Eleonora. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that she tasted fresh, metallic blood.

She wanted to charge out and rip Seraphina's hair out. But logic screamed at her to stop. If she ran out now, she would look like a hysterical, jealous maniac. Julian would just protect Seraphina.

Julian patted Seraphina's hand. He opened the passenger door for her. "Get in. Let's go."

Seraphina didn't get into the car immediately. She leaned against the open door, her voice carrying perfectly through the quiet, echoing garage. "You know, Julian," Seraphina purred, her eyes still locked on the concrete pillar where Eleonora hid. "This reminds me of the night of your wedding. When you were at the Hamptons estate? I had a terrible panic attack. You stayed by my bed and held my hand the entire night. You've always been my protector."

Julian froze, his back stiffening. "Get in the car, Seraphina. We don't talk about that night," he snapped, completely unaware of his wife standing thirty feet away in the shadows.

The words detonated in the damp garage air like a bomb. The air was instantly sucked out of Eleonora's lungs. Her brain completely short-circuited. A high-pitched ringing sound filled her ears.

Her mind violently flashed back to three years ago. She remembered sitting in the center of their massive, rose-covered marital bed in her heavy, suffocating wedding dress. Julian had taken a phone call, his face pale. He told her there was a catastrophic PR crisis in the European division. He had kissed her forehead, apologized profusely, and left.

She had stayed awake until dawn, praying for his business to survive, feeling terrified for him.

And all that time... he had been sitting by another woman's bed.

The moment Julian's back was turned, Eleonora spun around.

She ran.

She sprinted back toward the elevator bank as fast as her heels would allow. The sharp clack-clack-clack of her shoes echoed loudly.

Julian's head snapped up at the sound. He peered into the dim garage, but Eleonora had already thrown herself around the corner.

She slammed her hand against the elevator call button. The doors slid open instantly. She threw herself inside and hit the button for the lobby.

As the doors began to close, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She pulled it out. Julian calling.

Eleonora stared at the screen, her eyes completely dead. She pressed the volume button, silencing the call.

The elevator doors sealed shut, locking her in the small metal box.

Eleonora's knees gave out. She slid down the wall of the elevator until she hit the floor.

She unzipped her tote bag. She pulled out the beautiful, silver-wrapped box containing the baby shoes.

She stared at it for three seconds. Then, with a violent, jerky motion, she threw the box directly into the small metal trash can in the corner of the elevator.

It hit the bottom with a hollow, final thud.

She wiped the tears from her face. She stood up as the elevator dinged at the lobby level. She was done hoping. She was done crying. She was going to that dinner, and she was going to watch them burn.