Divorcing The Female CEO: Leon's Revenge

Rain lashed against the towering glass walls of the Hart Penthouse, painting streaks across the night skyline of Cloudcrest City. From thirty stories above ground, the world looked distant, like a painting hung on a wall. Cold. Untouchable.

Leon Grant stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, his eyes on the boiling pot in front of him. He stirred the sauce absently, checking the clock. It was 10:57 p.m. Three hours late.

He’d cooked her favorite, truffle linguine with garlic butter shrimp. A bottle of aged red sat uncorked on the table, the candlelight flickering with every draft that slipped through the hallway.

He tried to convince himself this was just another late meeting. That maybe, just maybe, Selena would walk in with an apology. But he already knew better.

The elevator chimed. Leon wiped his hands and walked toward the door just as it slid open. 

The woman who stepped in looked like she’d walked off the cover of a Forbes magazine, tailored emerald dress, flawless makeup, and a leather handbag that cost more than the average car.

Selena Hart didn’t even glance at him as she walked in, shaking her wet curls off her shoulder like a goddess among mortals.

“Late night,” Leon said gently.

Selena tossed her bag on the couch. “Don’t start.”

He gestured toward the table. “I made dinner.”

“I already ate. Board dinner ran long.”

Leon stood quietly as her heels clicked across the floor, heading straight for the bedroom.

“Selena,” he called after her, “do you even remember what today is?”

She stopped. Looked over her shoulder, eyes blank.

He gave a hollow laugh. “Our anniversary.”

A pause. “Right.” She turned fully. “Sorry. Work came up.”

“Every day, it’s work. Every night, it’s work. Do I even matter anymore?”

She exhaled like he was exhausting her. “Why are you being so dramatic?”

Leon stepped closer, voice low. “Because I gave up everything to be with you. I turned down promotions, moved cities, left behind my life, just so you could chase your dreams.”

Selena folded her arms. “And I made those dreams a reality. Don’t act like I owe you for the life I built.”

His voice caught. “You built?”

“Yes.” Her eyes gleamed with the same cold ambition that had once drawn him in. “I earned every cent, every client, every headline. You’ve been a, supportive husband. That’s it. Don’t mistake being present for being relevant.”

The words were a knife. One she didn’t even realize she held.

Leon’s voice dropped. “You really see me as just a ghost in your shadow, don’t you?”

She tilted her head. “Leon, you don’t have a job. You haven’t for years. You volunteer, cook, play house while I run an empire. I'm not trying to hurt you, but if you’re feeling small, that’s not my fault. Maybe it’s time you, grew up.”

Something inside him snapped, not with rage, but with clarity. It was like looking at a painting he’d stared at for years, only to finally see the cracks.

He walked to the table, picked up the ring box he had been holding onto all evening. 

Slowly, he opened it, inside was the matching ring he’d saved for a vow renewal. He shut it, and placed it on the table beside the uneaten food.

Selena frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m done,” he said quietly.

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m done being your convenience. Your background character. Your plan B. You don’t need me, remember?”

Selena stepped closer, indignant. “Are you trying to scare me? Walk out and do what, Leon? Sleep on a friend’s couch? You think anyone will take you seriously after being a househusband for five years?”

He looked her in the eye. “I’d rather be nothing on my own than a ghost living under someone who can’t even see me.”

She crossed her arms, smirking. “You’ll come crawling back.”

He stepped toward the door, grabbed his coat, and looked back one last time.

“No, Selena. This time, I’m not the one who’ll be crawling.” Then he left.

And for the first time in five years, Selena Hart was alone in a silence she couldn’t buy her way out of.

…

Across Town. Two Hours Later. Leon stood in a modest apartment complex, far from the glittering skyline. 

He unlocked the door to a bare living room, just a couch, a lamp, and a desk in the corner. On that desk was a locked case. He opened it.

Inside lay a sleek tablet, a secure satellite phone, and a black credit card embossed with a company logo: Vanguard Capital.

Leon dialed. The voice on the other end answered instantly. “You finally calling the shots again, sir?”

Leon’s jaw tightened. “Pull everything. All assets, all ties, every shadow connection to Hart Industries. Effective immediately.”

“Copy that. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Leon said coldly. “Make sure none of them know why they’re bleeding. Let her think it’s the market. Let her think it’s karma.”

The voice hesitated. “And when she starts falling?”

Leon stared out the window, eyes unreadable. “Then she’ll know what it feels like to build an empire on a ghost’s shoulders.”

…

At the Hart Penthouse, Selena was pouring herself a drink when her assistant, Mia, called.

“Ma’am, we just got word, our ad campaign with NovaTech is on hold.”

Selena frowned. “What? Why?”

“They didn’t say. Just… pulled out. And, um, your meeting with the Hong Kong investors tomorrow? Cancelled. They’re claiming they need to ‘reassess risks.’”

Selena scoffed. “It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”

But as she sat in silence, her reflection stared back at her from the black screen of the TV. Her confidence didn’t feel quite so solid anymore.

She picked up the ring Leon had left, and for the first time, her smirk faltered.

Back in the apartment, Leon opens an old file, photos of Selena, deal documents, old wire transfers, shadow companies all leading back to her success.

At the bottom is a signature, Leon Grant, Founder, Vanguard Capital.

He burns the file. Then dials again. “Jason,” he says.

“Yes, boss?”

“Let’s remind the world who built her.”