The Pitiful Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

The Salazar mansion was a mausoleum of marble and glass, designed to impress shareholders rather than house a family. Carly entered and immediately shed the cold armor of the outside world. She changed into soft, beige loungewear-the uniform of the harmless, submissive wife.

She went to the study. The safe was hidden behind a generic abstract painting. She didn't need the combination; she had installed a backdoor in the digital lock months ago.

She pulled out a stack of documents. Tax compliance forms for the Cayman accounts. Hundreds of pages of dense, mind-numbing legalese.

She took the three-page document she had prepared earlier-the Separation and Asset Division Agreement. She slid it into the middle of the stack, page 142. She carefully folded the top corner of the page down, obscuring the bold title, making it look like a printing error or a dog-eared marker.

The front door slammed downstairs.

Carly's heart rate didn't spike. She controlled her breathing, forcing a rhythm of four seconds in, four seconds out.

Brice walked in. He smelled of expensive scotch and the faint, cloying scent of Lola's floral perfume. He loosened his tie, his face a mask of irritation.

"The board is climbing up my ass," he muttered, not looking at her. "They're panicking about the quarterly projections."

Carly walked over and handed him a glass of whiskey, neat. Just the way he liked it. He took it without a thank you, draining half of it in one swallow.

He looked at the desk. "What is all this?"

Carly picked up her iPad. Finance sent them over. IRS audit compliance. They need signatures by tomorrow morning.

The word "IRS" made Brice flinch. In his world, the taxman was the only predator he truly feared. He groaned and sat down, spinning a gold pen between his fingers.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

He started signing. Flip, sign. Flip, sign. He wasn't reading. He was too arrogant to think he needed to read anything his mute wife handed him. To him, she was just an extension of the furniture.

His phone rang. He answered it on speaker, barking at his VP of Operations about stock prices.

"Sell the damn position if you have to! I don't care!" Brice shouted at the phone.

His hand kept moving. Flip. Sign.

He reached the fold. The Separation Agreement.

His hand hovered. The pen tip touched the paper. He paused. His eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a paragraph that mentioned "dissolution of marital assets."

Carly knocked the heavy crystal inkwell off the corner of the desk.

It crashed onto the hardwood floor, shattering. Black ink splattered across the rug.

Brice jumped, the pen skidding across the paper. "For God's sake, Carly! Can't you be careful?"

Carly dropped to her knees, grabbing a tissue, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. She made a silent, apologetic gesture.

"Leave it! The maids will get it," Brice snapped, annoyed by the interruption. He wanted to be done. He wanted to go to bed.

He looked back at the paper. He didn't read the paragraph again. He just wanted to finish. He scrawled his signature on the line.

Brice Salazar.

Carly's chest tightened, a painful squeeze of victory.

He flipped the page. And the next.

Ten minutes later, he pushed the stack away. "Take these to the courier in the morning."

Carly gathered the papers. Her fingers pressed against the signed agreement, feeling the indentation of the ink. It was worth billions.

"Wait," Brice said.

Carly froze. She stood with her back to him. Had he realized?

He walked up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. He sniffed her hair, checking for the scent of another man, projecting his own guilt onto her.

"Where's your ring?" he asked.

Carly turned. She held up her bare hand, then signed. Cleaning.

Brice nodded, losing interest. "Good. It's an important asset. Don't lose it."

He let her go. "I'm sleeping in the guest room. I have an early call."

Carly walked out of the study. She closed the door. She leaned against the wall in the hallway, clutching the papers to her chest. She didn't smile. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, the adrenaline finally crashing through her system, making her hands shake uncontrollably.