Chapter 1
Right after the "Demolition" sign was painted on my childhood home, my husband, Chad Sowle, suddenly forced me to sign a property division agreement.
I saw the live comments popping up before my eyes.
[The scumbag knows the demolition compensation is 15 million dollars. He wants to trick Emily into a fake divorce and use the money to support his mistress.]
[His mistress is already three months pregnant, but Emily foolishly believes he's just doing it to buy a second house.]
My hand shook as I gripped the pen, listening to Chad's crap about how "it's all for the kids," he claimed.
[The billionaire real estate mogul next door has had a crush on Emily for years.]
[He's demolishing the whole area just so he could be near Emily, but Chad tossed all his love letters out like they were nothing.]
[What? 15 million dollars, and this guy doesn't even bat an eye?]
I ripped up the agreement and, without a second thought, threw Chad's luggage straight out the door.
A gold digger using my cash to feed his little bastard? He belonged on the street, sleeping under a cardboard roof.
*****
When I tossed Chad out along with all his stuff, he was still totally stunned.
He banged on the security door so loud, it sounded like he was trying to wake up the whole neighborhood.
"Emily! Are you out of your mind? We planned this fake divorce ages ago so we could get a second house," Chad yelled.
"The regulations are tightening up. If we don't split, how are we supposed to buy? I'm doing this for us, for our future kids."
Were it before, I would've caved and opened the door for him.
But now, seeing those pop-up comments float before my eyes, all I felt was pure disgust.
[Still acting, huh? With skills like that, he could win an Oscar.]
[For the kids? Please, he means the one that side chick Beatrice Paul is carrying.]
[Don't trust him, Emily. He just sent the divorce papers to Beatrice downstairs. The two of them are already plotting to live it up overseas with the 15 million dollars.]
15 million dollars.
I snorted and yelled through the door, "Chad, save your crap. Divorce? Fine—but you get nothing. End of story."
The banging on the door stopped abruptly.
After a few seconds, Chad's voice dropped, sharp and menacing.
"Don't get cocky, Emily. Yeah, this house came from your parents, but I paid for the renovation. If you pull any stunts, don't blame me if I stop playing nice."
I pressed my back against the door, my heart racing.
It wasn't fear—it was pure rage.
I'd been married to Chad for three years now.
For those three years, I poured my heart and soul into him.
His family didn't have much, so I never asked for anything. The house was a shabby old place my parents left me, and I bought the car myself.
He didn't make much, but I never had a problem with it. If anything, I went out of my way to protect his ego in front of our friends.
And what did I get in return?
An absolute ingrate.
I glanced at the torn-up agreement on the coffee table.
It said that to get around the housing policy, Chad would get the house and all our savings, while I'd walk away with nothing. After we got back together, everything would be "reallocated."
Yeah, "reallocated." As if.
If I signed, he'd just sell the house, pocket the 15 million dollars and all the savings, then take off and never look back.
By then, I'd have no tears left—just regret.
[Emily, hang in there. The big shot next door is listening in from his balcony.]
[He's losing his cool. He wants to rush over and smack Chad around, but he's worried Emily might see him as a brute.]
[Orson Foster: My woman's being wronged. I want to tear Chad apart and feed him to the dogs.]
Orson Foster?
I froze.
The weirdo who lives right across the hall from me?
The guy who's always dressed in black, wearing a baseball cap, and keeps his head down to avoid me every time we meet?
He's the billionaire real estate mogul?
And he's had a crush on me for years?
I headed to the balcony and pulled the curtain aside just a bit.
Sure enough.
Someone was standing out on the balcony next door.
Even with the security bars between us, I could still feel that intense gaze.
When he saw me looking, he jerked back inside like he'd been burned.
Right after, the live comments started popping up again.
[Oh my god! They made eye contact! Mr. Foster got all shy!]
[Mr. Foster: She saw me! Wait—did she catch me eavesdropping? Crap. So much for my image.]
[Seriously, what image? In front of Emily, he's just a total wimp.]
I couldn't help but laugh.
Who would've thought that my usually cold and distant neighbor was secretly such a drama king?
Just then, things got noisy downstairs.
I looked down.