The Stolen Project

Sloane's footsteps faltered at the sound of her name ringing out across the tense office. Despite the sharp command in Declan's voice, she rigidly refused to turn back. She had zero desire to bear witness to the nauseating, intimate display happening right behind her.

Beside them, Gianna jutted out her bottom lip, weaponizing a childish pout that grated on the nerves. She clearly hated that Declan's panicked attention remained fixed on the woman walking away. "Declan," Gianna wheedled, pressing her painted nails against his tailored suit lapel. "Didn't you say I could represent your company at the Stratton Group signing this afternoon? I came early specifically to familiarize myself with your project. Aren't you even a little touched?"

Without waiting for his response, Gianna whipped her head around to aim her arrogance squarely at Sloane's retreating back. "Ms. Mercer, go get the project documents and the contracts for me."

At those barking orders, Sloane halted. Her expression froze into a mask of pure, unadulterated ice. She slowly turned around. Bypassing the younger woman's haughty glare, Sloane locked her piercing stare directly onto Declan's pale face.

"You're giving my project to her?" Sloane demanded. Her voice vibrated with a suppressed fury that chilled the room.

This wasn't just any file sitting on a mahogany desk. She had literally sacrificed her physical health for this deal. A month ago, when Declan desperately needed to secure the Stratton Group's AI project, his marketing department had mobilized and failed miserably. They had come crawling to her. Sloane took the challenge without a single complaint. She stayed at the negotiation table with the Stratton executives, drinking hard liquor until her stomach lining tore and bled. When the Stratton CEO's mother suffered a sudden medical emergency, Sloane spent thirteen agonizing days living in the hospital ward. She nursed the older woman, spoon-feeding her broth and managing her care, just to secure their elusive trust.

Now, with the ink almost ready to dry, Declan was effortlessly tossing her blood, sweat, and hard-earned career to his pampered little lover. The sheer disrespect tasted like ash in her mouth.

Declan's face darkened at her insubordination. He could feel the authority slipping from his grasp. Instead of answering Sloane directly, he turned a harsh glare on his mistress. "Wait outside."

Gianna blinked, her pout deepening into genuine annoyance. "Why should I? You're the CEO of The Sterling Group. Since when do you explain yourself to a secretary?"

"I said, wait outside," Declan repeated. His deep voice carried a dangerous edge of frost that left no room for negotiation.

Intimidated by the sudden shift in his demeanor, Gianna swallowed her complaints. She shot Sloane a venomous glare before spinning on her stilettos and marching out. Once the heavy doors clicked shut, leaving them alone in the sprawling office, the silence grew suffocating.

Declan stepped forward, immediately attempting to justify his blatant favoritism. "Don't misunderstand," he lied smoothly, his tone laced with practiced earnestness. "There's nothing between Gianna and me. She's Damon Vance's sister, and I have a crucial project with the Vance family right now. I'm letting her handle the signing as a courtesy to him."

Sloane felt her skin crawl. Cheating was pathetic enough, but hiding behind business pretenses made it unbearable. Did he honestly believe she was that gullible?

"If you're collaborating with the Vance Group, you only need to deal with Damon," Sloane pointed out, a sarcastic smile curving her lips. "Unless you're telling me Damon won't sign a contract unless you entertain his sister on company time?"

Declan's briefly softened features snapped back into a rigid scowl. "Sloane, I am trying to explain the situation to you. Do you have to be so difficult?"

"Fine," she agreed, her voice dropping to a terrifying chill that echoed through the quiet office. "Let's set your personal entertainment aside. What about the project I bled for? You're just giving it away?"

"I'm not giving it to her," Declan argued, closing the distance between them. "Her brother wants her to gain some industry experience. The Stratton deal is done; all that's left is the formal signing. You will still get your bonus. Can't you just do this once for The Sterling Group? For us?"

Believing his own hollow excuses, Declan raised his arms with the firm intention of pulling her into a pacifying embrace, exactly as he used to do when she was upset.

Sloane coldly sidestepped his reach, physically recoiling from him as if he carried a plague. Her initial plan to endure their final thirty days of marriage in peaceful silence evaporated under the searing heat of his disrespect.

"Sure, I can let her have this one," Sloane stated, staring at his empty, outstretched hands. "Or maybe even more."

Declan frowned, his hands dropping to his sides. "What are you saying?"

"Divorce. I'll let her have my husband too."

Declan's features twisted into unyielding hostility. His jaw clenched tight enough to snap bone. "Don't even think about it. Divorce is not an option for us."

His refusal came without a single heartbeat of hesitation. Convinced that she was merely throwing a dramatic, jealous tantrum over the Stratton project, he forcibly softened his rigid stance. He stood tall, ready to throw her a bone to appease her wounded ego. He figured women just needed a little coaxing when they felt ignored.

"I quit," Sloane delivered the words, her eyes dark and steady.

Declan frowned deeply, profoundly irritated by the sudden curveball. For years, he had practically begged her to resign and become a docile, full-time housewife. He wanted her waiting for him at home, not standing toe-to-toe with him in the boardroom. She had staunchly denied his requests every single time, choosing to juggle domestic duties and corporate warfare. Why now? Why bring this up at the climax of their busiest quarter?

"Just because of Gianna?" he asked, raw exasperation lacing his tone. "Sloane, you are not the type to make unreasonable demands. Stop talking about resigning. Once I get through this busy period, I'll take you on vacation. Didn't you always want to go to Winterhaven? We can go in a few days. Okay?"

Hearing the raw impatience in his voice, Sloane felt a hysterical urge to laugh. She realized with crystalline clarity just how rapidly a man's heart could rot and change. He wanted a compliant wife sitting quietly at home while he entertained his mistress in the office, and he thought a cheap vacation would buy her submission.

Without wasting another breath on the man standing before her, Sloane turned on her heel and strode out of his office. She didn't look back.

By two o'clock that afternoon, the office grapevine buzzed with the news. Gianna had triumphantly marched off to the Stratton Group all by herself, carrying the contracts Sloane had traded her health to secure. Declan had originally planned to escort his mistress, but a last-minute crisis tethered him to his desk.

Sloane didn't care. Steeling her battered heart, she forcibly let the injustice go. If she was shedding Declan from her life, one project hardly mattered in the grand scheme of her freedom.

She meticulously packed her personal belongings into a small cardboard box. Leaving the corporate building early, she walked out into the glaring afternoon sun.

She drove aimlessly through the sprawling city streets. The bustling sidewalks and towering glass skyscrapers blurred past her windows. A hollow, strange emptiness rattled inside her chest. She had poured seven years into building a life, a marriage, and a career, only to realize she had nowhere to go.

Her car finally pulled up to a familiar suburban residence. It belonged to her fiercely loyal lawyer friend, Maeve Delaney. Maeve was the sharp-tongued attorney who had helped Sloane draft the divorce agreement hidden in her bag.

Sloane knocked on the door and was quickly ushered inside. Sitting on Maeve's plush living room sofa, she poured out the details of the morning's confrontation and her abrupt resignation.

Upon hearing the story, Maeve practically vibrated with ecstatic vindication. She leaped up from her armchair, pacing the hardwood floor with aggressive energy.

"You should have quit ages ago!" Maeve shouted, waving her arms. "Do you know who you are? You're a commercial genius!"

Sloane sat quietly, letting the fierce validation wash over her tired mind.

"If you hadn't made that spectacular presentation at the global summit and secured that anchor project, would The Sterling Group have ever gone public?" Maeve continued, her voice rising in pitch. "Would they have reached the industry's pinnacle in just a few short years? No! You built half that empire! And now he's burning bridges? Clipping your wings? Making a business genius stay home to wash his clothes and cook his meals? Has his brain been waterlogged or kicked by a mule?"