The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire

Conrad stared at the fresh, pristine copy of the divorce agreement sitting on the counter. His face turned a sickly shade of pale green. The vein near his temple throbbed visibly against his skin. He finally realized she wasn't throwing a tantrum. She was actually leaving him. A sudden, suffocating wave of panic hit his chest, but he immediately buried it under a massive wall of rage. He slammed both hands down onto the marble island, leaning over the counter to glare at her with venomous eyes. "Fine," he hissed. "If you want to roll out of here so badly, you can have your divorce. But I will make sure you don't take a single red cent of Huffman money with you!" He pulled out his phone and dialed his family's private legal counsel right in front of her. He barked orders into the receiver, his voice echoing in the large room. He demanded the lawyer bring over the 'worst-case scenario' brutal Postnuptial Agreement they had drafted months ago as a contingency. He hung up the phone and glared at Aurora. "You waive all alimony. You leave with nothing. You give up every single share you hold in the family trust." He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a smug, victorious laugh. He was absolutely certain this threat would break her. He expected her to drop to her knees and beg him to take it back. Aurora's face didn't change. There was no panic. There were no tears. She looked at him with a quiet, profound pity. "No problem," she said. Three crisp, clean words that bounced off the walls. Conrad froze. It felt like he had thrown a full-force punch and hit nothing but empty air. His chest tightened uncomfortably. "Are you insane?" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly. "Without me, you don't even know where you're going to sleep tonight!" Aurora pulled out a high stool and sat down. Her posture was relaxed and elegant. "That is no longer Mr. Huffman's concern." An hour later, Conrad's lawyer arrived at the penthouse, sweating through his suit. He was clutching a freshly printed folder. The lawyer placed the Postnuptial Agreement on the table. He shot Aurora a look of genuine pity, trying to subtly signal her with his eyes that the terms were financial suicide. Aurora ignored the lawyer's warning. She picked up a heavy Montblanc pen from the table. She didn't even bother reading the dense, trap-filled legal jargon. She flipped straight to the signature line on the very last page. Scratch, scratch. She signed her name in quick, fluid strokes. Her hand didn't shake once. She slid the signed document back across the table and tapped the pen against the wood. "Your turn." Conrad's hand trembled slightly as he picked up the pen. He had only ordered the document to scare her. He never thought she would actually sign it. But now he was trapped. To save his own pathetic ego in front of his lawyer, he gritted his teeth and signed his name. The lawyer quickly gathered the papers. He cleared his throat and spoke in a stiff, professional tone. "According to New York State law, once the divorce filing is submitted, you will enter a mandatory 30-day cooling-off period." "During this time," the lawyer added carefully, "if either party changes their mind, a motion can be filed to revoke the process." Conrad let out a cold snort and glared at Aurora. "Don't expect me to give you a way out during these 30 days. I won't care if you starve to death on the street." Aurora stood up. She walked over to the front door and grabbed the handle of her battered suitcase. "I'll see you in civil court in 30 days. Don't be late." She didn't even look back. The heavy front door slammed shut behind her, instantly cutting off Conrad's angry, confused, and increasingly panicked stare. Conrad stood alone in the massive, empty living room. He looked down at the coffee table. Sitting right next to the torn paper was Aurora's diamond wedding band and her penthouse keycard. A violent, sickening feeling of total loss of control twisted in his gut.