Chapter 3

3

"That's my boy! That's Harrison Vance's son!"

With this fresh capital and my hands freed, I immediately reached out to my father's old business network.

Even though my dad had stepped down early, his name remained legendary in the corporate world.

I had been running our operations efficiently behind the curtain, so landing our next big deal was effortless.

It was the South Bay Waterfront Redevelopment Project.

I had seen this proposal on Lyra's laptop before.

Her company had spent months preparing for this pitch, scrambling to pull together outside investors.

Now that I had stepped into the light with my uncles and father backing me, Lyra didn't stand a chance.

Several key partners who regularly worked with her firm were already pulling out their contracts.

After all, the only reason they had partnered with her in the first place was because I had pulled strings for her in secret.

Once the contracts were finalized, my lawyer drafted a fresh set of divorce papers.

I wanted this over with, so I went back to the house to get her signature.

I waited over an hour before Lyra finally walked in. The moment she saw the papers on the coffee table, her temper flared. "Zayn, you better put that away right now! I won't hold your little disappearing act against you, but push me further and I will cut off your allowance completely!"

I stood up, finding her threats utterly laughable.

Even now, she truly believed my entire existence depended on her charity.

Refusing to waste my breath, I held the papers out to her. "Do whatever you want with your money. Just sign."

"And one more thing. Return the five million dollars my family gave you to launch your company. You can keep the rest."

"In your dreams!" The front door swung open, and a man barged in.

I recognized him immediately. It was Lyra's newly hired executive assistant.

His name was Harvey.

I looked at him coldly. Realizing he had overstepped, Harvey quickly held up a luxury red designer handbag.

It was the anniversary gift I had bought Lyra for our sixth year together.

"Boss, you left your purse in my car," he said softly.

A bitter smirk touched my lips. Lyra always treated the things I gave her like trash, including my devotion.

"My belongings are all packed. Once you sign, just mail the papers to my lawyer."

"A busy CEO like you certainly won't have the time to drop them off in person."

I turned and walked out without looking back. Just as I reached for my car door, a hand slammed against the window.

I turned around to find that pretty-boy assistant glaring at me with venom. "Boss gave you a luxury lifestyle for seven years! How dare you demand money after getting dumped?"

I hadn't even confronted him about being a homewrecker, yet here he was, acting like the new master of the house.

"This is a matter between husband and wife. In what capacity are you questioning me?"

Harvey stiffened for a second. "I'm standing up for Boss! She treated you like royalty, and you repay her with betrayal!"

Betrayal?

What a joke. That word described Lyra far better than it did me!

"If you really think I'm holding her back, why don't you convince her to sign the divorce papers so she can be rid of me forever?"

I ripped his hand off my door, got into the driver's seat, and rolled down the window. "I'll be waiting for your good news."

I stepped on the gas and left him choking on dust.

Over the next few days, I threw myself entirely into the South Bay project.

My father's veteran partners were thoroughly impressed with my master plan and locked in their investments on the spot.

To celebrate our kickoff, they hosted a private, high-profile gala in my honor.

For seven years, I had operated purely behind the scenes, rarely showing my face in public. My father's circle wanted to use this gala to formally introduce me as the heir.

What I didn't expect was seeing Lyra at the very same venue.

She was dressed in a tailored evening gown that hugged her curves perfectly. I had to admit, Lyra was undeniably gorgeous.

That very beauty had captivated me the moment I first saw her.

And that single glance had bound me to her for seven years.

"Zayn? What the hell are you doing here, dressed like that?"

Since this was an industry mixer organized by my elders to meet top business tycoons, I wore a custom-tailored bespoke suit imported from Milan.

Evidently, Lyra failed to recognize the discreet luxury label and assumed I was wearing a cheap knockoff from a flea market.

"Could you please stop embarrassing me in front of these people?"

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