Chapter 1
"Joey, you're fired."
Claire Linford, the frosty CEO and my wife's closest friend, slid the termination letter across the desk without looking at me.
"And you were never right for Sophia."
When I got home, my wife, Sophia Summers, tossed a divorce agreement onto the table.
"Get out. There's fifteen grand on the card. We're square."
I'd been waiting for this moment for three years. Neither of them had a clue.
Finally, freedom. Damn, it felt good.
Then one afternoon, a line of Rolls-Royces stopped outside my rundown apartment building. The butler stepped forward and opened the door for me with a practiced bow.
"Mr. Drake, it's time to go home."
That was when their world finally fell apart.
*****
"Pathetic."
"You're the shame of this company."
"Pack your things and get lost."
The harsh taunts rang out across the whole HR floor.
My name was Joey Smith. For three years, I "depended" on my wife and held a meaningless clerk's job at Linford Global.
Today, I got fired.
Claire was the one who kicked me out.
She was rocking an expensive business suit and four-inch heels, looking down at me like I was something she scraped off her shoe.
"I warned you. Don't go around telling people you're with Sophia at work," Claire shot me a cold glare.
"Just look at you. Pathetic. All you do is make her embarrassed. I seriously don't understand what she was thinking when she decided to marry someone like you?"
She threw the termination letter at my face, hard.
The edge of the paper scraped my cheek, leaving a faint sting.
My coworkers whispered behind my back, their eyes flashing with smug, mocking grins.
Three years of this crap, and I barely even felt it anymore.
Without a word, I grabbed the termination letter, and stared at her, expressionless.
"You finished?" I said, not even blinking.
Claire blinked, clearly caught off guard by my reaction.
Three years of playing this cowardly role, and it was finally over.
Claire and Sophia would soon see just how big a mistake they made today.
Honestly, I didn't feel a thing. I almost wanted to laugh, really.
I turned around, ignoring everyone's stares, and grabbed my only possession—a mug I'd used for three years.
There wasn't a hint of regret or a trace of anger as I walked straight out of the office without looking back.
Behind me, Claire's cold voice rang out. "I'm going to make sure Sophia divorces you. Someone like her is way out of your league."
I didn't even bother to look back.
When I got back to the dump I called home, I caught a whiff of some unfamiliar cologne.
In the living room, Sophia was sitting on the couch, laughing and chatting with some guy in a sharp suit.
That guy was Kevin Kay, her old college friend and a spoiled rich kid.
When Sophia saw me walk in, her smile disappeared in a flash, replaced by a look of open disgust.
"Perfect timing, Joey," she said, her voice icy.
She stood up, pulled a document and a bank card out of her bag, and tossed them onto the coffee table.
"This is the divorce agreement. Sign it. There's 15 grand on this card. Consider it compensation for the three years you spent looking after me," she said, her tone making it clear she just wanted me gone.
Kevin, sitting next to her with his legs crossed, looked me up and down like I was trash, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
"Sophia, you're way too generous. For a loser like him, even 150 bucks would be too much," he sneered.
Sophia let out a sigh and looked at me, disappointment written all over her face.
"Joey, you don't belong in my world. I opened the door for you, for three whole years. But what have you done? All you ever did was cook and clean. What did you ever give me? Nothing but constant disappointment and people looking down on me."
She took a deep breath before continuing, "Claire fired you today, and I'm done carrying you. Just sign the papers, take the money, and get out."
I glanced at the divorce agreement on the coffee table, then at the bank card.
Fifteen grand for three years of my time?
Well, it indeed was the fastest way to end things.
I picked up the pen, didn't even hesitate, and signed my name at the bottom of the agreement.
My signature was bold and sweeping, full of flair, like I was signing away a whole chapter of my life.
Sophia and Kevin were stunned.
They'd pictured me breaking down, begging, maybe even clinging desperately and refusing to sign.
But what really caught them off guard was how decisively I handled it. No drama, just done.
"You..." Sophia's expression was hard to read.
I pushed the signed agreement toward her and said calmly, "Thanks."
Yeah, I literally had to thank her for setting me free.
Then, I turned and walked into the bedroom, my own little space, small and cramped as it was.
There was barely anything inside. I never really had much to call my own.
Dragging my tiny suitcase out, Sophia finally snapped. "Cut the act. I know you've got nowhere to go. Are you just trying to look pathetic so I'll feel guilty?"
Kevin scoffed, "Man, enough with the drama. Why don't you just drop to your knees and beg Sophia? Maybe if you beg hard enough, she'll let you stay, as her loyal servant."
I couldn't be bothered with these two clowns.
Just as I opened the door, ready to leave this place that made me sick, a synchronized roar of engines thundered up through the building.
The rumble got closer and closer, until it came to a stop right outside our shabby apartment block.
Kevin, unable to ignore it any longer, strode over to the window. The second he looked down, he was completely stunned.
"Rolls-Royces. Damn. One, two, three... there's ten of them. And they're all freaking Phantoms." His voice was trembling.
Sophia froze, her eyes wide as she rushed to the window, totally stunned by the scene outside.
Ten gleaming Rolls-Royce Phantoms lined up in a luxury convoy, making our shabby block look even more like a dump.
Next to each car stood a bodyguard in a black suit and white gloves, radiating an aura that screamed danger.
The door of the lead car swung open, and out stepped an elderly gentleman, Thomas Ellington, with silver hair, dressed in a tailcoat, with the kind of refined grace you'd expect from someone straight out of a royal gala.
He looked up, fixing his eyes right on my window, with no hesitation.
The very next moment, Thomas bowed deeply in my direction, his gesture full of respect.
Right after, dozens of bodyguards in black suits snapped into a perfect ninety-degree bow, their movements so synchronized it was almost unreal. The atmosphere was electric.
Then, their voices boomed together, shaking the whole place.
"Time to go home, Mr. Drake."
Their voices thundered through the air, making the windows in the whole building rattle like crazy.