Divorcing The Female CEO: Leon's Revenge

2. The Ghost Who Built a Throne

The hum of the city filtered through Leon's open window, but he didn’t hear it. He was too focused.

At the center of the small room sat a single long desk lined with LED screens. On each screen, graphs dipped and rose, news tickers scrolled, and market reports updated by the second. The quiet sound of keys clicking filled the room, precise and intentional.

Jason Black, his right-hand man, sat across from him, pulling up files, codes, and accounts like a surgeon with a scalpel. Lean, sharp-featured, and always dressed in black, Jason didn’t ask questions, he executed.

“We’ve liquidated the silent holdings,” Jason said. “Fifty-three shell corporations. All ties to Hart Industries are cut.”

Leon nodded. “What about the strategic partners?”

“Most of them have already pulled their contracts. The ones that haven’t will be gone by Friday. They weren’t loyal to her, they were loyal to our influence. She just didn’t know it.”

Leon leaned back, staring at the screen showing Starline Corporation’s stock prices.

It was down 3.8% in a single day. A tremor, not yet an earthquake, but the fault line had split.

“She thought she built this alone,” Leon murmured. “Every deal she closed… every endorsement she landed… it was me working the levers in the shadows.”

Jason smirked faintly. “She told you she didn’t owe you anything.”

Leon’s jaw tightened. “She was right. She doesn’t. But I don’t owe her anything either now. No protection. No silence.”

Jason hesitated, tapping a document. “There’s one more thing.”

He clicked a tab and revealed a confidential agreement, Leon’s signature next to Selena’s, tucked deep in the early investment records of Starline Corp.

“Do we burn it?” Jason asked.

Leon stared at the screen for a long time, then closed his eyes. “Leave it. Let her find it when everything else is gone.”

Meanwhile, at Hart Industries Headquarters, Selena stood in the center of her 40th floor office, staring at the whiteboard wall that used to be covered with strategy and projections.

Now, it was filled with red circles, canceled meetings, and question marks.

Three investment banks had dropped her funding applications without warning. A fashion brand partnership she’d celebrated two weeks ago had sent a curt email: “We are going in a different direction.”

And worse… NovaTech’s CEO, someone she’d partied with last month, wouldn’t even return her calls. She clenched her fists.

Mia, her assistant, stepped in nervously. “Ms. Hart… there’s another issue.”

Selena turned slowly. “Speak.”

“Our main manufacturer just canceled all pending orders. Said they’re pivoting away from luxury clients.”

Selena blinked. “Pivoting? Since when?”

“I, I don’t know. But that’s not all. The luxury expo next month… you’re no longer on the speaker list.”

Selena felt the air squeeze out of her lungs. “That’s impossible. I confirmed that personally.”

“They said… your brand ‘no longer fits the profile.’”

Selena sat down, stunned. This couldn’t just be coincidence. Everything was unraveling, fast, precise, merciless.

She knew the corporate world was vicious, but this felt personal, and that’s when the thought crept in, “Leon.”

She almost laughed aloud. No. He couldn’t have done this. He was nobody. He didn’t have the power. He…Her thoughts cut off. Her eyes narrowed.

He was always on those late-night calls, speaking quietly when he thought she was asleep. He always had connections, always had solutions to the impossible. Every time she thought a deal would collapse, he’d “talk to someone,” and magically, things would work.

He never explained how, and she never asked. Why would she? He was just the man who made her coffee every morning. Right?

…

Leon stepped into the high-rise that bore no public name, its logo etched in frosted silver. The building had been his all along, but hidden through layers of legal fog. Selena never stepped foot here.

Now, it was time for the ghost to step out of the shadows.

“Mr. Grant.” The receptionist stood immediately. “Your team is waiting in the main boardroom.”

Jason walked beside him, whispering, “Our New York expansion is ahead of schedule. The London office reports a 17% growth. The acquisition of Prism Labs is complete, pending public release.”

Leon nodded. “Let’s proceed.”

In the boardroom, a dozen high-level executives rose to greet him. Every one of them worked for him, and had, in some form, helped Selena succeed, under his instruction.

Now, the instructions had changed. Leon took his seat at the head. “Gentlemen,” he began, “it’s time the world stops crediting the wrong people.”

He looked at the screen displaying Hart Industries’ dipping numbers, “She thought the kingdom was hers. Let’s make sure she knows who the king was.”

…

Selena sat alone with a glass of untouched wine, her phone open to an old photo.

It was of her and Leon, years ago. Smiling. Young. She was fresh out of business school, broke and desperate. He was the one who believed in her when everyone else laughed.

“Leon…” she whispered.

She picked up the phone and dialed. It rang once. Twice. Then voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message.

A moment later, a breaking news alert popped up on her screen: "Vanguard Capital acquires Prism Labs in surprise billion-dollar move. Leon Grant, mysterious CEO of Vanguard, praised for innovative vision and ruthless execution."

Selena froze. She re-read the name. Leon Grant. No. It couldn’t be. She clicked the video attached to the article.

There he was, her Leon, wearing a charcoal suit, standing next to world leaders, shaking hands with people she had begged to get meetings with.

His posture was confident. Elegant. Like a man who had never once been beneath her.

Her stomach turned. How long had he been… this? She looked around her now-silent penthouse, the emptiness growing louder, and for the first time… Selena Hart felt small.

…

Jason entered Leon’s office and handed him a small envelope.

Leon opened it. Inside was a handwritten note: “Did you ever really love me? - S.”

Leon folded the note and dropped it in the shredder without a word.

He looked at Jason. “Schedule the meeting with the Hong Kong delegation. And tell the board we’re moving the press conference up.”

Jason raised a brow. “Won’t that rattle Hart’s people?”

Leon smiled, cold and quiet. “That’s the point.”