EX-WIFE, IT WAS YOUR LOSS NOT MINE

CHAPTER 3.

Jayden lingered on the street outside what had once been his home, the evening shadows stretching long and heavy around him. He felt stranded, powerless, with the faint memory of his son’s cries echoing in his mind but he couldn’t stay there.

He needed a roof over his head, at least for tonight. Slinging his bag higher on his shoulder, he set off in search of the nearest motel.

Ten minutes later, he found one. The receptionist slid a key across the counter, and soon he was standing at the door of his assigned room. The lock rattled stubbornly before giving way.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp carpet and old smoke. He dragged his bag across the scuffed linoleum and sank onto the edge of the bed, the thin mattress sagging under his weight.

In a single day, everything he had leaned on—his house, his son, Emily—had slipped through his grasp. He had never felt so small, so hollow.

Closing his eyes, he tried to let the silence steady him, but his son’s face kept breaking through, bright and trusting. The thought of him growing up shaped by absence and neglect, hurt his chest. He couldn’t let it happen.

A quiet determination stirred within him, fragile but insistent. He would not be defeated. Not with anger, not with reckless fury, but with thought, with strategy, with ingenuity.

He set his bag aside and opened his laptop, the screen’s glow illuminating his exhausted features. The bitter aroma of instant coffee filled the room as he poured a cup, letting the heat anchor him.

One email after another left his inbox—first to old contacts, then to strangers. Each carried the weight of desperation, but also the spark of determination. His company, the same one Mr. Jordan had dismissed, would have its chance.

He outlined his plans carefully, wrote down every strategy, every vision for the future, his mind racing even as exhaustion pressed in on him.

And then another thought surfaced—one that went deeper than business. His adoptive mother’s final words whispered back to him, reminding him that he still had a family somewhere. For the first time, he dared to believe she might have been right.

This wasn’t just about proving Mr. Jordan wrong. It was about proving, to himself and to the world, that he was not a nobody.

He began by browsing online, looking for websites where people searched for lost relatives.

He decided to post the only childhood photo of his he had always had, filling out every form with the smallest details he could recall.

Sleep came slowly, brief and restless, but it brought a quiet comfort, a sense that maybe, somewhere, a life waited for him beyond betrayal and loss.

*

The next morning, an email from a potential investor, a man named Mr. Thompson, made Jayden’s chest tighten with cautious excitement.

The meeting was set at a cafe in town, and hours passed in nervous preparation. By the time he arrived, his hands felt clammy but determined.

Mr. Thompson was calm, measured, and attentive. Jayden explained to him everything concerning the company he was about to set up, giving him more insight and clarity on it.

“This is great, it is such a brilliant idea,” Mr. Thompson said finally, leaning back in his chair.

“You’ve clearly thought it through. But I need full assurance. Everything you’re giving me—this belongs to you legally, correct? It’s all yours to invest?”

Jayden hesitated, a cold shiver running down his spine. “Yes, of course. It’s mine. I—”

Mr. Thompson’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Because if there’s any chance that you’re giving me something that doesn’t belong to you, I cannot be involved. I will not invest in fraud.”

“I swear, it’s mine,” Jayden said, his voice firm but quiet, trying to keep his panic from showing.

When the meeting ended, Jayden walked out of the café with a heavy mix of relief and unease.

He had laid everything on the table, but doubt still clung to him—would Mr. Thompson believe in him enough to take the risk?

On the way back, he stopped at a small restaurant for lunch. For a moment, the warmth of eggs and toast gave him a fragile sense of normalcy. But it didn’t last. Scrolling through his phone, his chest tightened as post after post confirmed what he already feared—Emily wasn’t just seeing that man, she was flaunting him.

Their engagement was all over the media, her smile bright and effortless as if their years together had never existed. The betrayal hit sharper than before, proof that every cold word she’d spoken about their marriage had been the truth.

By mid-morning, he found himself standing outside her office, the divorce papers folded tightly in his hand. His decision was made.

When he pushed the door open, the bell above it chimed softly.

Emily glanced up from behind the counter, her face unreadable, calm as though she had been expecting him all along.

“Jayden,” she said, voice flat. “Have you made up your mind about the divorce?”

“Yes. I’m here to sign the papers,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “There’s a condition. I want full custody of our son. He cannot grow up in a home where his needs are ignored.”

Emily tilted her head slightly, the faintest smirk on her lips. “Full custody? You think that’s possible? He has everything he needs. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“I am his father,” Jayden said, stepping closer. “He needs me. I cannot allow absence or indifference to shape his world.”

Emily leaned back, her voice smooth, and measured. “If you want the papers, fine. But as compensation for a marriage that never meant anything, I’ll give you the house.”

Jayden froze. The house had been the one constant in his life, a place where his son’s laughter had echoed, a home he could still claim.

He realized he had no other choice and signed the papers, accepting both the house and the bitter taste of freedom.

He stepped outside and checked his phone. Mr. Thompson’s call came immediately.

“Mr Jayden,” the investor’s voice was sharp, incredulous, and furious.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but this company blueprint you gave me—it had already been registered by someone else. I’ve checked, and the legal registration doesn’t match. Are you trying to scam me?”

Jayden’s stomach sank, his mind reeling.

Everything he had worked for, every late night, every strategy, every hope he had poured into the company, was gone—or at least, stolen.

“I… I didn’t take anything from anyone,” he said, voice low, filled with disbelief and urgency. “This is mine. I built it from the ground up.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Mr. Thompson’s voice cut through him, sharp and accusing.

“I have records, Jayden. The registration isn’t under your name. I cannot risk this. You’ve committed fraud.”

The cold weight of betrayal settled over him.

Jayden’s thoughts raced, and one name rose above all the rest—Mr. Jordan. It had to be him, he had been the only one he shared everything concerning the company with when he was trying to get his investment.

Jayden’s fists tightened, his jaw locked, and for the first time in days, he felt the raw pulse of determination.

Mr. Jordan had stolen his work, stolen his future, but Jayden would not let him keep it. He would take back what was his.

Yet as the thought settled, another fear crept in—if Jordan had already taken his company, what would stop him from taking his son next?

The idea chilled him, settling in his chest like ice. He wasn’t just fighting for a business anymore. He was fighting for everything.