Chapter 3

Grant stood before the hallway mirror. He carefully adjusted his silver tie.

Tonight was the Hawthorne Group's private investment reception. The group would officially introduce its new Chairman. The identity of this billionaire leader was still a heavily guarded secret.

Grant was taking Bianca with him. He proudly labeled her as his "strategic partner".

"You are staying home," Grant said to my reflection. He smoothed down his expensive jacket. "You are just an ordinary administrative clerk. You have no right to enter this kind of occasion."

I stood by the door. Less than twenty-four hours ago, those words would have pierced my heart. Today, my chest just felt cold and hollow.

"Alright," I said softly.

He didn't notice the dead tone in my voice. He grabbed his briefcase and walked out.

I went into the bedroom and changed my clothes.

An hour later, my cab pulled up to the luxury hotel.

The lobby smelled of fresh lilies and expensive perfume. I walked slowly toward the grand banquet hall. The soft sound of jazz music spilled from the heavy double doors ahead.

Suddenly, a hard grip locked onto my wrist.

A familiar mix of mint cologne and betrayal hit my face. It was Grant.

Bianca stood a few feet behind him. She crossed her arms, tapping her designer heels impatiently.

"Are you stalking me?" Grant asked. He kept his voice low, but his grip was painfully tight.

I looked down at his fingers bruising my skin. Then, I looked up into his eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my breathing to stay entirely even.

I pulled my arm back with a sharp jerk. I slowly brushed my sleeve, right where his fingers had touched me.

"I am not here for you," I said perfectly evenly.

Grant let out a soft, mocking laugh. He didn't believe me at all. He opened his leather briefcase. He pulled out a thick document and pressed it against my chest.

"Sign this," he commanded quietly. "It's our divorce agreement."

I took the heavy documents. My hands trembled slightly under the paper as I read his absurd demands.

He wanted me to take half of the mortgage debt on my own house.

He wanted a written admission that I voluntarily offered my home as collateral. He wanted me to legally drop all investigations into Bianca's new penthouse.

My throat tightened. He was trying to rob me blind to buy his mistress a home.

I looked up at his handsome, composed face. He really thought he controlled me.

I held the papers out. I let them drop from my fingers. They scattered across the marble floor.

"I am not signing a lie," I said calmly.

Grant's fake smile didn't slip, but his eyes turned completely cold. He didn't yell. Instead, he subtly signaled the nearby hotel security guards.

"Please remove this woman," Grant sighed. He put on a tired, sympathetic look for the whispering guests nearby.

"She is my soon-to-be ex-wife," Grant explained smoothly to the crowd. "She is very emotional right now. I don't want her making a scene. Please, get her out of here."

The guards stepped toward me in their dark suits. Bianca smirked, pulling her fur shawl tighter.

I didn't try to explain myself to the strangers. I didn't shed a single tear. I just gave Grant a long, quiet look. I let him have his perfect, manufactured show.

I turned my back on him and walked away steadily.

---

Inside the glittering banquet hall, Grant returned to his element.

Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the room. Grant walked smoothly through the crowd with Bianca on his arm. He clinked champagne glasses with powerful board members.

"Bianca is our core partner," Grant boasted smoothly to a group of investors.

He took a sip of his drink, shaking his head. "My wife never helped my career. I am ending that dragging marriage very soon."

Suddenly, the jazz band stopped playing. The room lights dimmed slightly.

A spotlight hit the main stage. The host stepped up to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his deep voice echoed. "The new Chairman of the Hawthorne Group has arrived at the hotel."

A wave of excited murmurs swept through the room. Every head turned toward the VIP entrance on the side of the hall.

Grant quickly adjusted his silver tie. He grabbed Bianca's hand and pulled her to the very front of the waiting crowd.

He leaned down. His eyes were wide with greed. "If we get her support tonight, we will have everything," he whispered eagerly.

---

Outside in the quiet corridor, I stopped walking.

I turned around. I faced the heavy double doors of the banquet hall again. My heels clicked rhythmically against the floor as I approached.

The same security guard immediately stepped in my path. He raised a stern, gloved hand.

"Ma'am," he warned sharply. "Mr. Holloway already said you cannot go in."

I didn't slow down. I held my chin high, radiating an authority I had buried for three years.

The guard frowned deeply. He reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder.

Suddenly, a sharp, electronic beep sounded from his earpiece.

The guard's hand froze in mid-air.

He stared at me. His eyes widened in absolute shock. He pressed his finger to his ear.

"Let her pass? Now?" he choked out in a raw whisper.

The voice on the other end repeated the strict command.

The guard swallowed hard. The color completely drained from his cheeks. He dropped his arm. He took a massive step back, pressing his back against the wall, and bowed his head deeply.

Inside the hall, Grant stood eagerly at the front of the crowd. His back was turned to the doors.

He wore his most charming, practiced smile. He was waiting to greet the powerful woman who controlled his destiny.

I lifted my foot.

With a low, heavy rumble, the giant oak doors of the banquet hall slowly began to part.