Reborn Heiress: Divorcing My Ruthless Husband

One month later. A black, armored SUV descended the ramp and parked in the private underground garage of the Manhattan penthouse. Hardy pushed the heavy car door open and stepped out. He had spent the last thirty days in Europe, ruthlessly crushing an internal rebellion within his family's overseas operations. The constant adrenaline and lack of sleep left his eyes bloodshot. A deep, physical exhaustion weighed down his bones. He stepped into the private elevator and swiped his keycard. As the car shot upward, a rare image floated into his mind. He pictured Alaya sitting on the living room sofa, wearing her silk pajamas, waiting up for him. The tight, painful knot in his chest loosened slightly. The elevator doors chimed and slid open. He stepped into the foyer. It was pitch black. There was no warm light spilling from the living room. There was only the dead, suffocating silence of an empty space. He reached out and slapped the smart-switch on the wall. Harsh, bright LED lights flooded the massive living room. Hardy froze halfway through taking off his suit jacket. His eyes locked onto the custom shoe rack by the door. It was half empty. Every single pair of Alaya's heels, her boots, her running shoes-they were all gone. A sudden, violent spike of panic seized his heart. His lungs constricted, refusing to take in oxygen. He dropped his jacket on the floor and sprinted into the living room. The space felt wrong. The dried floral arrangements on the coffee table were gone. The custom throw pillows she loved were missing from the sofa. Every physical trace of her existence had been scrubbed clean. He turned and ran down the hallway, bursting through the double doors of the master bedroom. He walked over to his bedside table. The drawer was slightly ajar. A sharp glint of light caught his eye. Sitting inside, right next to his custom cufflinks, was the massive diamond engagement ring he had placed on her finger. Hardy's breathing turned ragged. He reached out and snatched the ring from the wooden drawer. The cold metal bit into his palm. He bumped into the vanity. He looked down. The silver-framed photo from their honeymoon was lying face-down on the glass. His hands started to shake. He reached out and flipped the frame over. He stared at the image of his wife smiling brightly at the camera. A massive, crushing wave of loss crashed over him, drowning him. He thought she was just throwing a tantrum. He thought she was just grieving the miscarriage. He expected to come home to angry texts and demands for his location. But for thirty days, she had been completely silent. Hardy yanked his phone out of his pocket. He hit the speed dial for Silas. "Why the hell didn't anyone tell me she moved out?!" Hardy roared into the speaker, his voice echoing off the empty walls. Silas stammered, his voice tight with fear. "Sir, Mrs. Suarez ordered a complete information blackout. The staff thought it was just a... a standard marital separation. We didn't want to interrupt the European operation." Hardy ended the call violently. He grabbed the knot of his tie and ripped it downward, gasping for air. His heart was hammering against his ribs in a chaotic, terrifying rhythm. He opened his contacts. He found Alaya's number-the only number he had pinned to the top of his list. He pressed call. The line clicked immediately. A cold, automated female voice filled his ear. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable..." She had blocked him. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. He threw his cell phone onto the bed and lunged for the landline sitting on the nightstand. He dialed her number manually. It rang three times. Then, a click. "Who is this?" Alaya's voice came through the speaker. It was flat, distant, and completely devoid of emotion. Hardy's throat seized. He swallowed hard, trying to force moisture back into his mouth. "Alaya. Where are you? Why did you empty the apartment?" There was a one-second pause on the line. Then, a soft, mocking scoff. "Mr. Suarez," she said smoothly. "Stop pretending. My lawyers should have already contacted your office." Hearing her call him "Mr. Suarez" felt like a physical knife twisting in his gut. His chest tightened so painfully he had to lean his free hand against the wall for support. "Alaya. What is the meaning of this? Where are you?" His voice was low and dangerous, demanding answers, not offering excuses. Click. The dial tone buzzed loudly in his ear. She had hung up on him. The veins on the back of Hardy's hand bulged against his skin. He let out a low, guttural yell and slammed the plastic receiver directly into the drywall. The plastic shattered into a dozen pieces, raining down onto the carpet. He collapsed onto the edge of the empty mattress. He opened his hand and stared at the diamond ring resting on his palm. His fingers curled around it, squeezing until the sharp edges cut into his flesh. He had used her as a shield. He had treated her like a bird in a cage to protect her from his enemies. But the cage was open, the bird was gone, and the realization that he couldn't survive without her was tearing him apart from the inside out.