“You are entitled to nothing. Not after leaving me to make excuses and explanations and to settle the accounts. Oh, by the way, did you and Kristal enjoy our honeymoon holiday?”

Brett blanched.

“Yes, I know all about that. Carol enlightened me. Amazing how loose the lips of everyone at the office got once the shit hit the fan. I gather your little fling has been going on for some time. The silver lining, I suppose, is that I finally understand why you pushed so hard for her to get the VP sales position.” Maggie had been trying to keep her voice calm and modulated, to present herself as a woman in control, but it wasn’t working. She could feel the deep waves of anger rising. “Well, I hate to break it to you, buddy boy, but this?” she said, swirling her hands in the air. And it was as if the movement lit a match to the dynamite stockpiled in the pit of her stomach, because she heard herself bellow, “WAS NOT a frigging MOLEHILL!”

Brett shifted uncomfortably. “Toots, come on. You’re being unduly harsh—”

Eyes narrowed, Maggie snatched the John Fitzstein metal sculpture from the desk and brandished it. “Don’t you ‘toots’ me, you son of a bitch, or I’ll bash your brains out and enjoy every second of it.”

Brett shut up.

“Now,” Maggie continued, slamming the sculpture down on the desk with a satisfying thunk and enjoying the nervous expression on his face way more than she should. “This is the way it’s going to go down. Either you buy my half of the company, at fair market value—”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re the one who wants to walk away. So leave. No reason I should be penalized and give you half of my company—”

“Our company.”

“—just because your feelings got hurt,” Brett continued, shrugging. “I understand. I’d be emotional, too, if I was going to be missing out on all of this,” Brett said, gesturing to himself.