Too Late, Mr. Cross

*Elena's POV.

I was blinded by the cameras before I could even open my mouth to say anything or try to call my assistant and prepare for a press conference. The reporters rushed to me, their microphones in hand as they shoved them towards my face, asking questions that were worse than the former.

“Mrs. Cross, is it really true that you were embezzling both the company funds and the money from your investors?”

“Did you really think you could get away with it? Was that why you did it?”

“Our sources tell us that there are documents to prove that you have been diverting company funds to offshore accounts so that you would leave the country. What is your take on that?”

I stood there on the steps of what used to be my fashion house, now closed down and under investigation by the financial crimes commission, and it had already been made public that Elena Cross, wife of Damian Cross, was embezzling funds.

My hands were shaking, and I was forcing myself really hard not to cry. This was so much to handle. This was everything I poured my heart and soul into. Why would I want to sabotage it? Why would I want to do anything that would sink what I've built my entire life around?

“Is it true that you're planning to divorce your husband after you wreck his company and take all of his money?”

That statement stopped me in shock, and it felt like a bucket of ice water was being poured over me, and I was certain about the person behind this.

“I didn't…” I shook my head, trying to keep my voice firm. “There's been some form of misunderstanding, and my team and I are working on it as soon as possible. I would appreciate it if the media refrained from making baseless accusations because it would attract a lawsuit.”

Lawsuits often scared these people, but they looked even more brazen, and the tall reporter who had discussed the divorce sneered.

“Why are you acting all high and mighty, Mrs. Cross, when the documents are everywhere on the internet? All your interactions with the investors and even the transaction records have all been published online by a helpful anonymous person who wants the whole world to know how you do your dirty dealings?”

“Mrs. Cross, how do you feel about dragging the Cross empire down into the mud with your scandal? We just received fresh news that investors have begun pulling out of your husband's company because he is associated with you. What are your comments?”

“I didn't—” My voice cracked. “I didn't do any of this. The documents are fabricated.”

“Then who would fabricate them, Mrs. Cross? Who has that much to gain from destroying you?”

Damian. His name sat on my tongue immediately the question was asked, but I couldn't dare to say it. I swallowed hard and blinked back the tears from my eyes. I was about to respond when uniformed men appeared behind us, and there were even more flashes of the camera that followed.

“Mrs. Elena Cross, we are from the financial crimes commission, and we are carrying out an investigation that pertains to your company and the news we've received. Would you mind coming with us to the station to help clarify some things?”

******

Four hours of being in their custody, and my entire being was already exhausted that I could barely walk well, but I had only one person in mind. The only person who was responsible for this… Who was responsible for all my pain and tears ever since I accepted getting married to him?

“Damian!” I pushed the heavy doors of his study open, and he was just leaning into his chair with a glass of whiskey already in his hand even though it was barely past dinner.

He raised a brow at me without looking surprised.

“Did you do it?” My voice came out steadier than I expected.

Damian took a slow sip of his whiskey, his ocean-blue eyes fixed on me over the rim of the glass in the way that always made me shiver in excitement when we were younger, but now? I wasn't so sure what I felt when I looked into those eyes.

“You'll have to be more specific, my dearest wife. I've done many things today.” He said mockingly, with his lips curled into a wicked smile.

“Don't you dare do that, Damian!” I was already raising my voice as I stepped further into the room, my heels clicking angrily against the marble tiles of his study.

“Don't play games with me! What did you do? Those documents were damning, and you forged them! You sent them out to the press and had them ambush me and lock down my fashion business! So, tell me… did you do it?”

He scoffed and twirled the glass in his hands, the amber liquid moving smoothly inside the glass.

“You just accused me of doing something, and you're still asking me if I did it? Choose your struggle, sweetheart. Which of it do you want me to answer to?”

“Don't play any fucking games with me right now, Damian! I am tired of all your bullshit since getting married to you and—”

He set his glass down so hard on the table that I almost jumped back in fear, and the muscles in his jaw ticked in anger. “And what if I did it, Elena?” He stood up to his full height, and even my heels did nothing to make him look at least intimidating.

“And if I did?” His voice was low and menacing as he closed the space between us until he was standing over me, looking down at me with so much hatred in his eyes.

The air left my lungs at once, and I felt the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “It was my company,” I breathed slowly. I wasn't going to cry. Not for him, not anymore, but damn, he always brought out the tears from my eyes with everything he did.

“It was everything I spent years trying to build. Three years, Damian. Three years of my life, and you just—”

“I just what?” He snarled, and I jumped backwards, almost twisting an ankle, but his hands had reached out fast to catch me from falling, steadying me on my feet just so he could hold my shoulders. Not that he cared that I was going to fall. “I just did to you what you've been doing to me for five years?”

“What are you talking about?” I was pissed that he was starting with his nonsense again, accusing me of baseless things as if I was behind his every downfall.

“Don't act innocent!” His voice rose, and I saw it then… the rage he usually kept locked away, the anger that simmered beneath every cold look and cruel word.

“You think I don't know what you've been doing? Feeding information to my competitors? Leaking deals? Bleeding my company from the inside while you smile at me across the dinner table? You think I don't know that you had access to my study when I'm gone? To my personal files and company files because you just can't keep your grubby hands away from me, right?”

I shook my head, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. “Damian, I've never—”

“Every single time.” His hands were tightening around my shoulder now, and I winced slightly in pain. “Every time something goes wrong in my company, you're at the center of it. Every leaked deal, every sabotaged partnership, every investor who mysteriously pulls out. And I'm supposed to believe it's all coincidence?”

“I have been protecting you, you idiot!” The words tore out of me before I could stop them, and his eyes flashed with something dangerous.

“Protecting me.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just bitterness and five years of hatred. “Is that what you call it?”

“Yes!”

“Then prove it.” He was close now, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath and see the way his hands were shaking with the effort of holding himself back. “Prove you're innocent, Elena. Show me one piece of evidence that you haven't been destroying me from the inside.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Because what could I say? That I was the anonymous investor who had been saving his company for years? That every time his empire nearly crumbled, I was the one who quietly poured my fortune into keeping it standing? That our marriage was the only thing protecting him from death?

“Babe? What's all this fuss about?” I heard a soft voice behind me, and I turned slightly to find Rosalie strutting into Damian's study with my fucking expensive clothes on!