Page 5 of Filthy Business

That shut me up.

I took my glass and drained it in one long pull, trying to quench a thirst I knew wouldn’t go away.

???

The partition came down, but my driver didn’t say anything. He knew better. I glanced out at the house—three storeys of tasteful pretence—and lifted my laptop bag. The lunch had gone long. I needed to catch up on work and clear my head.

Nick was already out of the driver’s seat, waiting.

He opened the door with his usual professional nod.

“Thanks, Nick. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The air in the house felt colder than outside.

Too still. Too polished.

Lived in, but lifeless.

I went straight to my bedroom. Separate bedrooms had become the solution to everything years ago—no fights, no awkward mornings, no pretending. Now it was ideal. We hardly saw each other. The charade ended when Luke was a teenager. Maybe earlier, if I was being honest.

I changed into something more comfortable, sat at the dining table with my laptop, and waited. The wine would draw her out. It always did.

Right on cue, Leona entered the room, heels clicking against the marble like a metronome of disdain. She poured her glass without a word and turned to leave.

“I want a divorce,” I said, dabbing my lips with the napkin. Calm. Measured.

She didn’t pause.“We’ve been through this, Magnus. Leave it be.”

Dismissive. Predictable.

“The papers will be with you in a week,” I continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.“I’m moving into the city apartment until it’s finalised.”

That stopped her.

She spun around too quickly, wine sloshing over the rim, trailing down her silk blouse like blood down marble.

“I’ll take your precious company,” she hissed.“Even if that prenup holds—it’s Luke’s inheritance.”

Her voice was tight, trembling at the edges. Not from pain. From fury.

The Botox robbed her of expression, but her eyes—those still burned.

Cold. Calculating.

I’d known for years she used me for my name, my wealth, my stability.

And I let her. For Luke. For peace.

But the boy was a man now. And Leona? Her mask was cracking.

“If Luke doesn’t clean up his act, I’ll sell the company before handing it to him,” I said, voice low, detached.“As for the prenup—you always knew what my grandfather thought of you.”

Her face contorted, or tried to. Anger pushed past the plastic calm.

“Fuck you, Magnus.”

I stood, adjusting my watch.