The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire

The next morning, harsh, bright sunlight poured through the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. Aurora woke up on the narrow bed in the guest room. Her eyes were clear. There was no hesitation in her chest. She washed her face, changed into a crisp, professional blazer, and pulled her long hair back into a tight, neat ponytail. The master bedroom door yanked open. Conrad walked out wearing a silk robe, aggressively rubbing his temples to fight off a hangover. He walked toward the kitchen island to get coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Divorce Agreement still sitting untouched on the coffee table. His movements stopped. A deep crease formed between his brows. He walked over, picked up the thick stack of papers, and flipped through the first two pages. The corner of his mouth curled up in a condescending smirk. "You're really taking this all the way, huh?" he said, his tone dripping with arrogant pity. "You think this little stunt is going to make me kick Jessica out?" Aurora stood behind the kitchen island, holding a mug of black coffee. She watched him like she was watching a bad actor on a stage. "Look at the last page," she said calmly. "I've already signed it." Conrad flipped to the back. His eyes locked onto Aurora's neat, firm signature on the dotted line. His pupils shrank. His ego took a direct, violent hit. The smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a dark, ugly scowl. He slammed the document back onto the marble table. "Stop dreaming," he threatened, his voice dropping into a vicious growl. "If you leave me, you won't even be able to pay your credit card bills next month." He took two steps toward the island, looming over her. "You think the real world is easy? You've been a housewife for five years. Who the hell is going to hire you?" Right at that moment, Conrad's phone, sitting on the bar counter, started vibrating violently. The screen lit up. The caller ID read Jessica. The background photo was a selfie of the two of them kissing on a beach in Cabo. Aurora glanced at the screen. A slow, razor-sharp smile spread across her face. Conrad felt a sudden, irritating spike of panic. He quickly reached over and hit the reject button. The second the call ended, a text message from Jessica popped up on the lock screen. It was impossible to miss: Baby, what time are you picking me and Leo up to go look at engagement rings? Aurora set her coffee mug down. The ceramic clinked sharply against the marble. "Don't keep your new family waiting," she said. Her tone was light, almost cheerful. "Hurry up and sign it. It's better for everyone." Her complete lack of jealousy hit Conrad's nerves like a live wire. He felt his absolute authority crumbling. He spun around, grabbed the divorce agreement off the table, and gripped it with both hands. The veins in his forearms bulged. With a loud, violent tearing sound, he ripped the thick stack of papers in half. Then he ripped it again. And again. He tore the document into dozens of jagged pieces, his chest heaving with misplaced rage. He raised his hands and threw the shredded paper right at Aurora's feet. The pieces fluttered down onto the expensive Persian rug like snow. "You think you can force my hand like this?" he spat, lifting his chin to look down at her. "You're incredibly naive." Aurora looked at the mess on the floor. She didn't yell. She didn't cry. She just let out a soft sigh, like a mother dealing with a toddler throwing a tantrum. She unzipped her leather briefcase. She reached inside and pulled out another perfectly bound, identical copy of the agreement. She slid it across the marble island toward him. "I printed ten copies," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade of ice. "You can take your time tearing them. Just remember to sign the last one."