2025-01-20 14:13:30“Master Raymond, just take the card. You’re a trillionaire. If you don’t believe me, go to the bank and check the balance yourself. The password is your birthday.”
The elegant woman placed a sleek black card on the desk, her tone firm but polite. After being told to leave for the fifth time, she finally gave up trying to convince Raymond.
With a deep bow—practically folding herself in half—she turned and walked out without another word,got in a luxurious sports car.
Raymond sighed and gave the card a quick glance before putting it into his pocket casually.
Seriously?
She expected him to believe he was the missing chairman of the country’s biggest conglomerate?
What a load of nonsense.
Sure, there were parts of his past he couldn’t remember, but there was no way he was some billionaire big shot.
Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. Right now, he had more important things to worry about—like getting back to work at the restaurant.
Today is his anniversary with his wife Dahlia. He had planned everything meticulously. Leave work early, pick up fresh ingredients, and cook her favorite meal.
This year, he wanted to make it extra special, a reminder of their bond.
Just as he began tidying up, the restaurant door opened.
Dahlia stepped in first, her designer heels clicking sharply against the floor. Her hair was styled to perfection, her makeup immaculate, exuding the poise of a successful woman.
Behind her, a tall man followed, his commanding presence filling the room instantly.
Raymond straightened, a mixture of surprise and confusion flashing across his face. “Dahlia? What are you doing here?”
Her gaze met his briefly, devoid of warmth, before she looked away. “I won’t take up much of your time, Raymond,” she said coolly. “I’m here because... I want a divorce.”
The words landed like a blow, but Raymond kept his composure, though his hands clenched involuntarily.
“A divorce?” he repeated, his voice low and steady. “Why? What’s happened?”
Before Dahlia could respond, the man beside her stepped forward with a smirk. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.
“Dahlia has finally realized she doesn’t need to be stuck with a loser like you. Look at her—she’s a CEO, a leader in the city’s business elite. And you?” He gestured around the modest restaurant, his expression filled with mockery. “You’re still here, serving tables and dreaming small. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”
Raymond’s gaze shifted to the man, his eyes narrowing. “And you are?”
“Caleb Nathaniel,” the man replied arrogantly. “A man who actually understands her worth, someone who can give her the life she deserves. Unlike you.”
Raymond’s fists tightened, but he turned his focus back to Dahlia. “Is that how you see me now? A burden?”
Dahlia’s expression didn’t falter. “Raymond, it’s not about being a burden. It’s about reality. You’re still stuck in the same place you were years ago, and I’ve moved on. We’re no longer compatible. I need someone who matches my ambitions, not someone holding me back.”
“Is that why he’s here?” Raymond asked, his voice edged with bitterness. “You’ve already replaced me.”
“I didn’t replace you,” Dahlia replied, her tone clipped and devoid of emotion. “I outgrew you.”
Caleb chuckled darkly, stepping closer. “You should take it as a compliment, Raymond. Dahlia’s doing you a favor. She’s offering you a clean break—and compensation. It’s more than you deserve.”
Dahlia placed the divorce papers and an envelope on the desk. “These are the divorce papers. I’ve made all the arrangements. The envelope contains compensation. It’s the least I can do after everything.”
Raymond stared at the envelope, his jaw tightening. “Compensation?” he echoed. “That’s what my years of support, sacrifice, and love amount to for you? A payoff?”
They’d been married for three years. And he had poured almost every ounce of his energy into their marriage.
Every decision he made, every sacrifice, was for her—for them. His career, his dreams, his time—they all took a backseat to her happiness.
Dahlia had always been his priority.
And now, this was what he got. How ironic!
Caleb laughed again, louder this time. “What did you expect? A gold medal for being a dutiful husband? Face it, Raymond, you were never her equal. She’s just trying to make it easier for you to step aside gracefully.”
Raymond’s eyes burned with suppressed fury, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He pushed the envelope back toward Dahlia, his voice sharp. “I don’t want your money.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Dahlia snapped, her tone icy. “I’m trying to be fair.”
“Fair?” Raymond said with a bitter laugh. “You think throwing money at me makes this fair? Don’t bother. I don’t need your pity or your charity.”
Caleb smirked, wrapping an arm possessively around Dahlia’s waist. “Suit yourself. Maybe she’ll donate it to someone more deserving.”
Raymond ignored him, his gaze fixed on Dahlia. “You’ve made your decision. Let’s not drag this out.”
Without waiting for her response, he picked up the pen.
The weight of betrayal sat heavy in his chest, but he forced his hand to remain steady as he signed the papers.
When he was done, he placed them back on the desk and looked at her one last time. “I hope your new life is everything you want it to be,” he said, his voice laced with quiet finality.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving behind the woman who had once been his entire world.
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Chapter 292
Melissa was quiet for a long moment after Raymond finished speaking.She was looking at him, but her eyes had the distant quality of someone who is simultaneously present in the conversation and somewhere else entirely—somewhere inside her own memory, moving through years of accumulated impressions, testing what Raymond had said against everything she knew about her uncle and finding the collision between the two deeply uncomfortable.Because she knew Raymond was serious.She knew he was not the kind of person who said things for effect, who exaggerated for drama, who built accusations out of nothing. She had seen enough of him by now to understand that when Raymond spoke with that particular quiet certainty, it was because he had a foundation beneath his words that he trusted absolutely.But she also knew her uncle.Or believed she did.She thought about him—the real, specific, human version of him that she had grown up alongside. Not the abstract figure that Raymond's words were pai
Chapter 291
Melissa's eyes searched his face, trying to catch up with where his mind had already gone."Things are making sense?" she repeated, her voice carrying the particular frustration of someone standing just outside a room where a conversation is happening that directly concerns them. "What do you mean by that? What is making sense? What are you seeing that I'm not seeing?"Raymond looked at her for a moment.Then he said, "How about we do this properly."He turned slightly, putting the doors behind him completely, removing them from the immediate field of attention. Whatever was in that chamber would wait. Right now, the more important thing was the woman standing in front of him, who lived in this house, who shared space with whatever her uncle was building in the dark, and who deserved to understand the danger she was potentially standing inside of without knowing it."Melissa," he said, and his voice had shifted into something more direct, more deliberate, carrying the weight of someon
Chapter 290
Melissa stood at the threshold of the double doors and looked at Raymond with an expression that was caught somewhere between confusion and concern."So what are you actually saying?" she asked, her voice careful, measured, trying to read him the way she had learned to read people who said less than they meant. "You don't want to go in anymore? Is something wrong? Did you just change your mind all of a sudden?"Raymond turned away from the doors fully and faced her.He was quiet for a moment—not the uncomfortable quiet of someone searching for words, but the considered quiet of someone deciding how much of the truth to share and in what order. He looked at Melissa's face and read what was there. Confusion, yes. But underneath it, trust. And underneath that, the particular openness of someone who had been sensing something wrong for a long time without having the vocabulary to name it.He made his decision."I don't think you would backstab me," he said, "if I told you what I'm actuall
Chapter 289
Melissa looked at him for a moment after she nodded, and then something in her expression shifted—a small, searching quality entering her eyes as she studied his face.“So,” she said carefully, “don't you want to go in? Don't you want to check it?”Raymond did not answer immediately.He was looking at the house.Not at Melissa, not at the entrance specifically, not at any one detail in particular. He was looking at the whole of it the way it sat in the night, the way the light fell around it, the way the air near it felt against his skin. He had learned a long time ago to trust that feeling, the one that existed below conscious thought and below language, the one that did not explain itself but simply registered, like a compass needle swinging toward something it recognized.Right now, that feeling was telling him something was wrong.“Something feels off,” he said finally, his voice quiet and measured.Melissa frowned slightly. “Off how?”“I cannot pinpoint it,” Raymond said. “I can
Chapter 288
Raymond ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket in one smooth, unhurried motion.Then he turned and looked down at Jefferson's father.The man was still on the floor, one hand braced against the cold concrete, the other pressed to the side of his swollen face. His breathing had steadied somewhat, but the damage was visible and total. His lips were puffed and split. Dark bruising had already begun to spread along his jaw and cheekbone. Blood had dried at the corner of his mouth and along his chin. His eyes, though still burning with the stubborn ember of a pride that refused to fully extinguish itself, were glassy with pain and exhaustion.He looked like a man who had walked into a storm believing himself weatherproof and had discovered, too late, that he was not.Raymond regarded him for a moment without speaking. Then he said, his voice carrying the same unhurried calm it had carried all evening:“Well. Today seems to be your lucky day.”Jefferson's father looked up at
Chapter 287
He said it simply, without drama, without cruelty. The way a man states a fact that exists independently of emotion.“I have forgiven you,” he repeated. “Absolutely nothing to worry about on that front. But forgiveness and consequence are two different things, and one does not cancel the other.”Jefferson's father stared at him, processing this, and then something shifted in his expression. The relief that had begun to form at the word forgiven collided with the reality of the second half of the sentence, and the result was a kind of desperate, scrambling hope.“If you are forgiving me,” he said quickly, pushing himself further upright, his voice gaining a fragile urgency, “then—then let me go. Just let me go. I will walk out of here and I will pretend none of this happened. None of it. I will not speak of it. I will not act on it. I will simply—”“No.”The word was not loud. It did not need to be.Raymond looked at him steadily, and his eyes carried the same calm certainty they had c
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