The encrypted email landed at 11:42 PM.

No subject line. No sender name. Just a Blackwood Capital security tag and a zip file titled:

Hale_Truth_Unfiltered

Aria opened it with shaking fingers.

Inside:

• Dozens of financial records.

• A list of offshore accounts tied to shell companies.

• Scans of NDAs, email leaks, internal memos.

• And one photo that stopped her cold.

Dominic.

Seated at a restaurant table. Across from Marcus Hale. Both men were smiling. Two glasses of bourbon between them.

The timestamp: six months before she filed for divorce.

She leaned back, heart pounding.

The file came with a PDF summary. Dominic’s own notes—messy, half-redacted, brutally honest:

“Hale offered me a partnership. I said no. He threatened Aria. That’s when I started preparing the exit.”

Exit.

Not his—hers.

She skimmed further, eyes catching on keywords:

• “Leverage through Aria’s company”

• “Force merger”

• “Fake scandal → ruin her brand → dependency on Hale”

• “Plan B: Divorce. Sever ties. Protect her assets.”

It hit her like ice water.

Dominic didn’t divorce her because he stopped caring.

He did it because Marcus Hale gave him a choice: ally with me, or watch her burn.

And Dominic chose the nuclear option—cutting her out of his life completely to shield her from the fallout.

It was noble. It was infuriating. It was typical Dominic.

He never asked her opinion.

Never trusted her with the truth.

And now, they were right back where they started—except this time, she was armed with the facts.

She picked up her phone and texted him.

I got the file. We talk tomorrow. In person. Your office. No more lies.

Then she shut her laptop and poured the rest of her wine down the sink.

She’d need a clear head for what came next.

Because Marcus Hale wasn’t just circling.

He was hunting.