Chapter 2

The IPO valuation today was 20 billion dollars. Without my 15 billion dollars, she wouldn't even qualify for the IPO.

At exactly 10 a.m., the bell-ringing ceremony began.

Reyna stood on stage, gripping the brass hammer in her hand. Korbin was right beside her, standing close together. She was beaming.

Just as she raised the hammer, Reyna's phone went off. She frowned, not answering.

The phone rang again.

Korbin leaned over and murmured something to her.

Reyna handed the hammer to someone nearby and answered the phone.

I was sitting in the last row, watching her from across the hall.

Three seconds. Five seconds. Eight seconds. The smile on her face vanished.

Then she whipped around, her eyes scanning the crowd and locking onto the last row. She look at me.

I stood up, grabbed my coat, and headed for the exit.

I heard Reyna's voice behind me, tinged with panic. "Braiden!"

I didn't look back. As I reached the door, I heard the hall getting noisy.

I caught people asking, "What's happening?"

Someone yelled, "There's a problem with the account."

Others were on their phones, trying to verify the numbers.

Outside, the sun was shining bright.

I slid into the unmarked Maybach. Erick was already waiting, engine humming. "Mr. Armstrong, where to?" he asked.

"Home. The flowers need watering," I replied.

As soon as we pulled out of the parking lot, my phone started buzzing like crazy.

Reyna called me seven times in a row. I didn't pick up a single one.

The eighth call was from Korbin.

I glanced at the caller ID and chuckled. "So even the chief assistant is personally reaching out now."

I hung up.

The ninth call was from Reyna again. This time, she sent a voice message.

I tapped to listen. "Braiden, have you lost your mind? You just yanked 15 billion dollars out without a second thought?

"Do you even realize everyone's got their eyes on us today? Do you even know what's going down at the exchange—"

The voice message cut off there. Then another one came through. "Send the money back. Right now. I mean it."

I turned off my phone.

The car hit the highway. Erick shot me a look in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Armstrong, do you think Ms. Goodwin will..."

"No," I said, cutting him off.

Erick repeated, "I mean, is she gonna blow up over this?"

"She probably will make a scene," I replied.

Hearing this, Erick fell silent.

The highway was nearly empty, sunlight streaming through the windshield with a gentle warmth. I closed my eyes.

Our marriage had lasted four years. For the first two years, when she needed me, I was her 'husband.'

For the next two, when she didn't, I was just 'a person' to her.

Today, when she made me sit in the last row, I wasn't even 'a person' in her eyes anymore.

I was invisible, someone the chief assistant could put wherever he wanted.

Forty minutes later, I was home.

The tulips in the yard were blooming beautifully, all crowded together on the trellis.

I changed into something comfortable, grabbed the watering can, and started watering the flowers.

Just as I turned on the faucet, the doorbell rang.

It wasn't Reyna. It was a middle-aged man in a black suit—Garrett Ochoa, the CFO of Reynia Group.

"Mr. Armstrong," he said.

He'd always called me "Mr. Armstrong", and never once changed in four years.

"Mr. Ochoa, have a seat," I said.

Garrett didn't sit down. He said directly, "Mr. Armstrong, it's urgent.

"After you pulled out the 15 billion dollars, the exchange caught the shortfall and put the bell-ringing ceremony on pause. Ms. Goodwin asked me to…"

"So she wants you to plead with me?" I asked.

Garrett swallowed hard. "She wanted me to ask if there's been some kind of misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding," I said.

"Then could you…" Garrett began.

"Mr. Ochoa," I said, setting down the watering can and looking him in the eye. "You've been CFO at Reynia Group for three years. You know exactly where all the money in this company comes from."

Garrett didn't say anything.

I continued, "25 billion dollars, all from my personal accounts. No institutions involved. So when you were keeping the books, where did you put all that money?"

Then his face fell.

I went on, "I've looked over your financial reports. You categorized all my money as 'strategic partner investments.' So who are these partners? You just threw in three shell companies you made up."

"Mr. Armstrong, that was Ms. Goodwin's call," Garrett explained.

"I know," I said.

"She said you didn't want your identity out in the open, so—" Garrett added.

"So she just pretended the money had nothing to do with me," I interrupted.

Garrett stood there, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Go back and tell her the money's not coming back," I said.

"Mr. Armstrong…" Garrett started.

I added, "And tell your chief assistant that if he ever calls my wife 'Reyna' again, he'll find out what paying the price really means."

Garrett walked out. I kept watering the flowers.