The irony was bitter. She was only standing on that pedestal because I had built it for her. I had planned to give her the world today, to reveal that the "delivery boy" was the king of Harbor City. Yet here she was, discarding me like trash because she thought I was poor.
"Were the last three years a lie to you?" My voice came out hoarse.
"Feelings?" She scoffed. "It was a performance, Ethan. You didn't actually think I loved you, did you? With my beauty and talent, I deserve a king, not a pauper."
The image of the dignified, loving wife I adored shattered.
"I helped you build your empire from the shadows," I said, fighting the tremor in my voice. "Now that you've achieved success, you're kicking away the ladder? Aren't you afraid of burning bridges?"
"Have success because of you?" She laughed—harsh, grating. "I built this with my own hard work. It has nothing to do with you. Stop trying to steal my glory."
Her smile, once my favorite sight in the world, now looked twisted and grotesque.
I provided the initial capital for her first business venture. I was the one who secretly paved the way, opening doors to the partnerships she claimed as her own. Without my intervention, how could her company have skyrocketed to an IPO in just a few short years?
But now that she had tasted wealth, she wanted to discard me like yesterday's trash?
Was the last three years of marriage nothing but a performance? Did she really believe that climbing a higher branch turned a sparrow into a phoenix?
Clap, clap, clap.
Slow, mocking applause broke the silence. Samuel Finch stood off to the side, a sneer plastered across his face.
"A wife divorcing her husband—classic tragedy, isn't it?" He laughed. "If word gets out, Ethan, you'll be the laughingstock of the entire city. Hell, the whole world!"
The sound grated on my nerves, fueling the fire in my chest.
"This is my home," I snapped, my voice dropping to a dangerous chill. "You have no right to speak here."
Samuel's amusement vanished. His expression darkened, and he surged forward, raising his hand to strike.
My mind was a chaotic storm of betrayal and disbelief. I saw the blow coming—I could have dodged it, could have broken his wrist before he made contact—but I stubbornly stood my ground. I took the hit.
Smack.
The crisp sound echoed through the room. A stinging heat spread across my cheek.