Chapter 1
The banquet hall was a dazzling display of gold and crystal, every surface gleaming under the chandeliers.
My husband, Samuel Powell, was the center of attention, surrounded by admirers like a king among his court.
Izabella Grant, the girl everyone was talking about, nestled close to him with a winner's grace, her smile charming and radiant.
Everyone said she looked just like I did when I was young.
Samuel's phone rang. He picked up with impatience, but in the next moment, his face went pale.
It was my divorce lawyer on the line.
The lawyer said, "Mr. Powell, Ms. Giles's divorce agreement has been sent to your email.
"For the property split, she only wants the 1.5 million dollar shares she put in when you were building your business from the ground up. Now, those shares are worth 1.5 billion dollars."
*****
The lawyer's voice was icy and clinical, slicing through the glittering illusion of the banquet hall like a surgeon's scalpel.
Samuel's knuckles went bone-white as he clutched his phone. For the first time, the mask of arrogance he always wore started to crack.
He jerked his head around, scanning the crowd, desperately searching for any sign of me.
What was he searching for? Obviously, I was not there. All that lovey-dovey nonsense made me sick. Just watching it for a second stung my eyes.
Right now, I was sitting 12 miles away by a floor-to-ceiling window, idly swirling my wine and watching the city lights glitter beyond the glass.
On the table, my tablet was live-streaming the banquet hall's surveillance footage.
I had my lawyer choose this exact timing.
When Samuel was riding high, convinced the whole world was at his feet.
While he was soaking up the adoration from a younger girl, tossing our eight-year marriage aside like yesterday's laundry.
I wanted to see him crash down from his pedestal, hard and unforgiving.
"Samuel, what's wrong?" Izabella asked. She noticed his sudden change and tugged at his sleeve. Her voice was sweet and soft, with just the right touch of innocence.
Samuel jerked his hand away from her like he'd been burned.
A flash of something cold and menacing flickered in his eyes, so quick that Izabella almost thought she'd imagined it.
"It's nothing," he forced out, his voice rough and dry, like sandpaper scraping.
He hung up and strode out of the banquet hall, dialing my number as he went.
As expected, no one picked up.
I took my time finishing the last sip of wine, switched my phone to silent, and tossed it onto the couch.
The game was just getting started. Did Samuel think this was some game I was playing?
Did he really believe I would keep crawling back to him, begging for his attention after every tantrum, just waiting for him to come home?
He was dead wrong.
This time, I was not just making a scene. I would let him know it was game over for him.
*****
By the time Samuel returned to our hilltop villa, it was already midnight.
He reeked of alcohol and rage as he kicked the front door open.
"Julie! Have you had enough of this nonsense?" he roared.
His shout bounced off the walls of the empty living room, stirring nothing but a dead, hollow silence.
No meek wife appeared to answer him. No children startled awake, quietly sobbing in the night.No children startled awake, quietly sobbing in the night.
The sprawling villa was ablaze with light, but not a single soul could be found.
There wasn't even a hint that the kids and I had ever lived here.
In the closet, all of my clothes, shoes, and bags had disappeared.
In the kids' room, their toys, books, and even the bedding on their little beds were gone.
In the kitchen, his favorite bottled water and the sauces I used to make for him were all cleared out, not a single thing left.
Every trace of me in this house had been wiped clean, as if I had never existed.
All that remained was the cold, empty luxury and nothing but emptiness echoing back at him.
Samuel sobered up in a flash, the alcohol's haze ripped away by shock.
A wave of panic, unlike anything he'd ever known, crashed over him, as if a thousand icy hands were squeezing his heart from all sides.
He rushed to the study and flung open the safe.
It was completely empty.
All the jewelry he'd ever given me, the house deeds, even our marriage certificate... Every trace was gone.
All that remained was a single, thin sheet of paper.
At the bottom was my own signature, written in my hand. It was the divorce agreement.
Beside it sat his wedding band, cold and alone. It was our wedding band.
Samuel's breath caught. He staggered back, bumping into the bookshelf behind him.
On top of the shelf, a photo frame wobbled, then fell with a snap, landing at his feet.
Glass was scattered across the floor. The photo was of Samuel and me, eight years ago.
He was wearing a faded school uniform, his eyes defiant and brooding, like a rebellious lone wolf abandoned by the world.
I stood beside him, my smile lighting up, bringing a little sunshine into his darkness, whether he wanted it or not.
But he was the one who killed that light with his own hands.
After the panic, a tidal wave of rage crashed over Samuel. He trashed the study.