The Billionaire's Ex-Wife Is A Queen

Holly lay flat on the messy leather mattress. Her rapid breaths slowly evened out in the freezing air of the bedroom. Crawford stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. His broad back was turned to her. He fastened the cufflinks of his custom shirt with mechanical precision. Holly stared at his cold back. The very last trace of hope in the bottom of her chest turned into solid ice. She threw off the blanket. Her bare feet stepped onto the freezing Italian marble floor. She walked straight to the safe in the corner of the room. Crawford heard the movement. He frowned, watching her reflection in the glass of the window. Holly punched in the code. The heavy metal door popped open. She pulled out a thick, brown manila envelope. Crawford walked over to the wet bar. He poured himself a glass of bourbon. The ice cubes hit the glass with a sharp, clear sound. Holly turned and walked toward the sofa area. She gripped the envelope so tightly her knuckles turned white. The dull thud made Crawford pause, the ice cubes in his glass clinking to a sudden halt. He looked down at the bold, unforgiving words printed on the front of the envelope. Divorce Agreement. The two words hit his brain like a malfunctioning code. For a fraction of a second, a strange, hollow sensation echoed in his chest-a feeling he immediately misidentified as mere annoyance at her insubordination. He refused to entertain the idea that she could actually leave him. His eyes instantly sharpened into a predatory glare. He set the glass down on the marble counter with deliberate slowness. A mocking, icy smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, masking the inexplicable drop in his stomach. "Is this a new, pathetic extortion game to increase your monthly allowance?" he asked in a chillingly casual tone. Holly met his oppressive stare. She kept her voice completely steady and told him she wanted nothing. She just needed his signature. The dead look in her eyes stung Crawford. His pride flared. He leaned in close, using his height to trap her. He grabbed her chin. He spat out the fact that she had failed to get pregnant in three years. He told her she had no right to make demands. Holly felt a violent cramp in her stomach at the mention of her infertility. Acid burned her throat. She forced down the nausea and slapped his hand away. She let out a cold laugh. She told him that since she was a defective product, she was making room for the precious woman in his heart. Crawford's pupils shrank. The mention of Delphine hit a nerve. The anger of being exposed stripped away his reason. He yanked a Montblanc pen from his suit pocket. He ripped the envelope open and pulled out the papers. He did not read a single clause. He flipped to the last page and slashed his arrogant signature across the bottom line. The pen tip nearly tore through the paper. Crawford threw the pen on the table. He arrogantly announced that this was a highly successful business liquidation. He grabbed his suit jacket. He slammed the door behind him without looking back. The massive sound echoed in the empty penthouse. Holly stared at the signature. Her stiff shoulders finally dropped. A single tear hit the wet ink. She wiped her face quickly. She walked into the walk-in closet and pulled out a black duffel bag she had packed days ago. She pulled the priceless pigeon-blood ruby ring off her ring finger. She placed it gently next to the divorce papers. Holly carried the bag out of the apartment. The freezing midnight wind hit her face and cleared her head. She got into a regular ride-share car. Right in front of the driver, she pulled the SIM card out of her phone and snapped it in half. The next morning, Crawford walked back into the apartment with a merger file. He called Holly's name out of habit. Silence answered him. He saw the diamond ring on the table and the empty closet. A rush of blind heat shot straight to his brain. He grabbed the bourbon bottle and smashed it against the wall.