I attended major meetings.
Approved certain strategic decisions.
And remained involved in shareholder matters.
But Julian gradually began excluding me.
He scheduled meetings without telling me.
Stopped sending detailed financial updates.
And hired executives who knew him but had never worked with me.
When I asked questions, he became irritated.
“Meridian, you’re overthinking things.”
I frowned.
“These numbers don’t match.”
He sighed.
“That’s because you’re not involved in daily operations anymore.”
I stared at him.
“I still own sixty-one percent.”
He smiled.
“Of course you do, sweetheart.”
Then he kissed my forehead.
And changed the subject.
At the time, I thought he was simply stressed.
I didn’t realize he was beginning to rewrite our history.
The first public insult happened at a charity gala.
A journalist approached us.
“Mr. Ashbourne, congratulations on the company’s latest expansion.”
Julian smiled.
“Thank you.”
The journalist turned toward me.
“Mrs. Ashbourne, what role did you play in the company’s early development?”
