He Destroyed My Hands:Now My Billionaire Husband Destroys His EmpireChapter 1

I ran into my ex-husband while shopping for a piano for my daughter. We'd been divorced for seven years.

The sales associate spotted him and hurried over with a bright smile. "Mr. Simmons! Back again to pick out a new piano for your wife? She's so lucky to have a husband like you."

Wyatt Simmons looked past the associate, his gaze landing squarely on me. After a beat, he said, "Pick one out for her too. Put it on my account."

I smiled and shook my head, letting him know I'd already made my choice.

But he went ahead and pressed a black card into my palm. "Your dream was always to own a Steinway. But with what you're making now, you could scrub floors for the rest of your life and still only get close enough to touch one. How would you ever afford it?"

"Mildred, it's been seven years. Stop being stubborn with me."

My mind went blank for a moment.

A world-class Steinway? I already owned one.

And him? I'd let go of him a long time ago.

——

"You're overthinking this. I'm not being stubborn."

I stepped past Wyatt and said quietly to the associate, "I'll take the one we discussed. Please have it delivered to this address."

He clearly didn't believe me. His gaze was dark and heavy as he watched.

A moment later, he snatched the slip of paper from my hand. "Harmony Academy?"

His brow furrowed. "Mildred, I know the headmaster well. I'll put in a word—have them assign that kind of work to someone else."

"You're already doing janitorial work, and that's already—"

His voice faltered. The rims of his eyes had gone red. "Mildred, if things have been this hard for you, why didn't you come to me?"

I blinked.

Janitorial work?

I glanced down instinctively and caught my reflection in the polished surface of a piano. The shirt I'd thrown on today was a little faded.

It did look a bit like a cleaning uniform, now that I noticed.

Of course.

In Wyatt Simmons's eyes, I'd always been someone barely scraping by.

But I had no interest in explaining myself. I offered a faint smile. "I'm buying the piano myself. There's no need to bother the headmaster."

Then I walked to the counter and paid.

Tonight was the night my daughter had won first place in the National Youth Piano Competition.

I needed to get home and celebrate with her.

Autumn had arrived early in Riverton that year, sharp and sudden.