Page 3 of Worship Him

It was a rose petal-filled whirlwind, intoxicating and all-consuming.

I set the photo down, my chest tight. "How did we go from that to... this?"

The answer echoes in my mind—slowly, then all at once.

The long hours at work, the missed dinners, the growing silences. The scandal at Adam’s company, the irate investors…We became strangers living in the same house, our dreams diverging instead of aligning.

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "I can't keep doing this to myself."

I need to focus on my future, not fixate on my past.

I grab my laptop from my bag, powering it on. If I can't fix my marriage, I can at least throw myself into my work.

My clothing line needs me, and frankly, I need it too.

As I open my business emails, a new message from my assistant pops up.

"Hey boss, just a reminder about the meeting with potential investors tomorrow. 9 AM sharp. You've got this!"

I smile, grateful for the distraction. "Thanks, Mia," I type back. "I'll be there. Can you send over the latest sales reports?"

Work. That's what I need to focus on. It's always been my safe haven, my place to shine. And now, more than ever, I need that anchor.

I dive into charts, spreadsheets, and design sketches, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of creativity and business.

Hours slip by unnoticed, and for a while, I forget about the divorce proceedings waiting to be handled, about the empty side of the bed I'll face tonight and every night for the foreseeable future.

As I finally close my laptop, exhaustion settling in, I realize something. I may have lost the love of my life, but I haven't lost myself.

My company, my designs—they're still here.

They're still mine.

"One day at a time," I mutter, heading to bed. "Just one day at a time."

2

ADAM

Ilean back in my chair, surveying the room. The tension's so thick you could cut it with a knife.

My board of directors sit around the long mahogany table, their faces a mix of anger and concern.

I study their faces and take in the lines of worry that make them all seem tired and older. The bags under their eyes make it clear that they’ve had many sleepless nights recently.

I'm not worried. I've dealt with worse.

"Members of the board," I say, my voice calm and authoritative. "Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we?"

Marcus, our CFO, jumps in first. "Adam, these rumors are killing us. Our stock's taken a nosedive, and investors are panicking."

I nod, acknowledging his concern without showing any sign of distress. "And what do you propose we do about it, Marcus?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "We need to make a statement, clear the air. Show them our books if we have to."

"Absolutely not," I snap. "We're not dancing to their tune. That's exactly what they want."

Sarah, head of PR, leans forward. "With all due respect, Adam, we can't just sit back and do nothing. The media's having a field day with this."

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