Chapter 1
The courthouse was freezing, the AC blasting at 60°F. Nicole Wilson slid the divorce papers across the table to Scott Sherman. "Sign it."
Scott glanced at her, his eyes as cold and distant as they'd been for the past three years, like she was some random object in the room.
He picked up the pen, didn't even bother to read the papers, scrawled his signature with a flourish, and set the pen down with a sharp click.
"The house and the car are yours." His tone was as flat as if he were wrapping up a routine business deal.
Nicole smiled.
After three years, she'd finally made it to this moment.
"I don't need them." Nicole pushed the divorce papers back across the table. She stood up, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. "Scott, I don't want a single thing that belongs to you."
Scott frowned slightly.
It wasn't because Nicole refused the property split. It was because she seemed somehow different today.
Before, she'd look at him with red, teary eyes. "Do you not want me anymore?" She'd grab his sleeve when he turned away, and sit alone in that freezing villa's living room, waiting for him late into the night.
But now, her eyes were dry as a desert.
No tears, no regret, not even a trace of resentment.
It was as if she'd erased him from her heart, as if he'd never existed there in the first place.
Suddenly, the courthouse doors slammed open.
A woman in a designer suit stormed in, her heels clicking sharply, makeup flawless, and tears glistening in her eyes.
It was Sophie Todd.
"Scott, you really divorced her?" Sophie covered her mouth, her face full of guilt, like she was to blame for everything. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have come back. You two..."
Nicole stopped in her tracks and glanced back at Sophie.
Back then, every time she saw this, it used to tear her up inside. Her husband, the man she'd loved for three years, was always worried about another woman.
But now, she found it laughable.
"Ms. Todd," Nicole said calmly, "no need to act for me. I've already signed. My place is yours now."
Sophie paused for a moment, then her tears fell even harder. "Nicole, I swear, I never meant to come between you two."
"Enough," Scott cut her off. He frowned as he stepped in front of Sophie and shot Nicole an impatient look. "If you're leaving, just go. Don't give her a hard time."
How familiar these lines were.
Nicole closed the book on their three-year marriage in her heart.
She turned and walked toward the door. The sunlight hit her, stretching her thin shadow long behind her.
Her phone buzzed.
Nicole checked her phone and saw a secure text.
It read: [Dr. Wilson, message from Nesiria General Hospital: Your Kessler procedure got approved by the ethics board and is scheduled for next Monday. It'll be streamed live globally.]
Nicole slipped her phone into her pocket, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Starting today, Scott was never going to be part of her world again.
And he would never realize what he threw away.
As Nicole walked out of the courthouse, a sleek black Maybach was parked out front, waiting for her.
The passenger door swung open. A man in a perfectly tailored suit, with an air of quiet authority, gave her a respectful nod.
He said, "Ms. Wilson, your grandfather sent me to bring you home. The Wilson Group's succession ceremony is scheduled for the day after tomorrow."
Nicole got into the car without looking back.
Back in the courthouse, Scott was comforting the crying Sophie, having no idea that the woman he'd just lost was about to become the most unstoppable presence in all of Marlton.
*****
On the third day after the divorce, Scott was sitting in his office with a business newspaper laid out before him.
The front-page headline hit him like a bullet.
It read: [The Wilson Group's billion-dollar heiress finally steps into the spotlight. Turns out she's actually the legendary neurosurgeon known as the Phantom.]
The woman in the photo wore a tailored black suit, her gaze icy and her presence radiating an intimidating aura as she stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows atop the Wilson Group's headquarters, surveying the city below.
It was Nicole. His ex-wife.
Scott had always thought Nicole was a nobody from a small town who lucked out marrying into the Sherman family.
"Impossible," Scott breathed, his pupils contracting sharply in shock.
His secretary crept in, visibly anxious. "Mr. Sherman, just got the news. The Wilson Group is suspending all joint projects with us. The total amount involved is 1.2 billion."
The coffee cup in Scott's hand cracked audibly in his grip.
1.2 billion. The Sherman Group's entire cash flow for the year wouldn't scratch the surface of that gap.