After the Divorce, My Billionaire Ex Went Insane

My husband dragged my two sleepless nights of work into the trash.

In front of his mistress.

“Your job is to be a beautiful wife, Mia. Nothing more.”

He gave me an ultimatum: “Apologize, or we divorce.”

He thought I’d beg. He never dreamed I’d agree.

Now, he’s the one on his knees, outside my new apartment, a broken man.

"Mia, I'll do anything! Just don't leave me!"

He thought he owned me. He's about to find out how wrong he was.

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1

I pulled an all-nighter.

The concept blueprints for the new headquarters of my husband Ethan’s tech company, "Aether," were finally complete.

By the time I knocked on his office door, the caffeine rush was already starting to fade.

"Come in." A low, impersonal voice.

I pushed the door open. Ethan was sitting behind his minimalist desk. Standing beside him was the company's COO, Chloe Vance.

Chloe was an ice queen, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that radiated a "keep your distance" aura.

She had been Ethan's right-hand woman since Aether's inception. Where Ethan went, she followed.

The rumor mill claimed Chloe was the true queen meant to stand beside Ethan, while I was just a trophy wife who had bought him with a bit of seed money.

Despite it all, Ethan had publicly declared that I was his one and only Mrs. Sterling.

"Ethan, I finished the blueprints for the new headquarters. Take a look." I held out the USB drive with the final draft.

He didn't even reach for it.

"Mia, you're Mrs. Sterling," he said with a smile that was as cold as the metal decor in his office. "You can leave operational details like this to Chloe."

He motioned for me to give the drive to her.

Chloe took the USB with fingers tipped in a flawless nude polish. The pity in her eyes stung.

Then, right in front of me, she plugged the drive into the computer, selected the file that had cost me two sleepless nights, and dragged it into the trash.

Empty.

The motion was seamless.

This wasn't the first time. My heart was too numb to register anger.

Ethan didn't like me getting involved in company affairs as a designer.

He said I had established the company's core aesthetic and that was enough. All I needed to do was reap the rewards and simply be his beautiful wife.

I held my ground, staring at him stubbornly. "Ethan, aren't you even going to look at it? I worked all night."

He stood up, a slight furrow in his brow. "Mia, don't waste my energy on trivial matters."

Trivial matters. Was he talking about the blueprints, or me?

But he didn't give me a chance to ask.

Ethan pulled me into his arms, his chin resting on top of my head. His hand slid down my back, giving my hip a passionless squeeze, as if marking his territory.

That damn voice of his came from above, gentle, yet completely lacking in warmth. "Alright, I'll clear my schedule. We'll have a proper anniversary dinner."

He was always like this.

Just when you were drowning, he'd give you a breath of air, only to push you back under into a deeper sea.

But I still craved the scent of his cologne and the sheer scent of power. Then and now.

I buried my face in his expensive shirt and whispered, "Okay."

Wearing the vintage Cartier watch he’d bought me, I arrived an hour early at the three-Michelin-star restaurant where our story began.

This watch. Ethan had insisted on buying it for me when Aether secured its first round of funding.

He said it represented our "forever."

The company was tight on cash back then, but he stubbornly put it on my wrist himself.

Even later, when the company was on the verge of bankruptcy and he had to pawn everything else, he never laid a finger on that watch.