Ex Husband Returns: The Martial Arts Godmaster

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured gardens of the Grandview Manor as Logan pulled his battered delivery van through the ornate iron gates. The engine sputtered and wheezed, drawing disapproving glances from the valet attendants in their pristine uniforms. Logan adjusted his worn cap and checked the delivery slip one more time—a rush order for white lilies and roses, requested specifically for the Henderson-Blackwood wedding.

He grabbed the elegant bouquet from the back of his van, its delicate petals a stark contrast to his calloused, dirt-stained hands. The venue was magnificent, with towering marble columns and crystal chandeliers visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Logan had never delivered to such an upscale location before.

As he approached the main entrance, carrying the flowers with careful precision, the sound of wedding music drifted through the air. He pushed through the heavy oak doors and stepped into the grand ballroom, his work boots echoing against the polished marble floor.

The sight that greeted him made his blood turn to ice.

There, at the altar draped in white silk and gold ribbons, stood his wife Amelia in a flowing wedding gown. But she wasn't alone—beside her stood a tall, impeccably dressed man Logan had never seen before.

"No... no, this can't be..." Logan whispered, the bouquet trembling in his hands.

The officiant's voice carried across the room: "Do you, Darien Blackwood, take Amelia to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," came the confident reply from the groom.

Logan's legs nearly gave out beneath him. Amelia. His Amelia. The woman he'd been married to for three years was marrying another man.

"And do you, Amelia Henderson, take Darien to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Amelia's voice rang out clear and joyous: "I do!"

The crowd erupted in applause just as Logan's shocked gasp echoed through the ballroom. Heads turned, conversations stopped, and all eyes fell on the shabby delivery man standing frozen in the doorway.

Amelia's face went pale when she saw him. "Logan? What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Logan's voice cracked as he stepped forward, still clutching the flowers. "Amelia, what the hell is this? We're married! You're my wife!"

How could a married woman be having a grand wedding with another man?!

And he wasn’t aware!

Laughter rippled through the crowd of elegantly dressed guests. A woman in pearls whispered loudly to her companion, "Oh my goodness, how embarrassing."

Darien stepped forward, a cruel smile spreading across his handsome features. "Ah, the delivery boy finally arrives. Right on time."

"Delivery boy?" Logan's confusion deepened. "Amelia, who is this man?"

Amelia lifted her chin defiantly, her wedding dress rustling as she moved. "Logan, meet my husband, Darien Blackwood. My real husband."

"Real husband?" Logan's voice rose. "We signed papers! We had a ceremony!"

"Oh, that pathetic little courthouse wedding?" Amelia laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. "That was just... practice. This is the real thing."

The guests began murmuring amongst themselves, their voices filled with amusement and disdain.

"Look at him," sneered a man in a expensive tuxedo. "He's like a cockroach that crawled out from under a rock."

"More like a beetle," added another guest. "All dirty and scurrying about where he doesn't belong."

Darien chuckled, straightening his diamond cufflinks. "Now, now, let's not insult the insects. At least they serve a purpose in nature. This... creature... just delivers flowers."

"Darien, please," Amelia giggled, placing her manicured hand on his arm. "You're being too generous. Cockroaches are resilient. Logan here is more like a maggot—slimy, worthless, and feeding off garbage."

Logan's face burned with humiliation as the crowd erupted in cruel laughter. "Amelia, how can you say these things? I worked two jobs to support us! I gave you everything I had! What else do you need?! “

His face burned with disappointment!

"Everything you had?" Amelia's voice dripped with contempt. "You gave me nothing but embarrassment and poverty. Look around you, Logan. This is what a real man provides."

She gestured grandly at the opulent ballroom, the crystal chandeliers, the ice sculptures, and the champagne fountain - all was screaming fancy!

"I arranged for you to deliver these flowers," Darien said smoothly, his eyes glinting with malice. "I wanted you to see what Amelia deserves. What she's always deserved."

"You... you planned this?" Logan stammered, his voice caught in his throat.

It was unbelievable!

"Of course I did," Darien laughed. "Did you really think someone like Amelia would stay with a pathetic worm like you forever? She's a butterfly, and you're just the dung she crawled out of."

A portly man in the front row called out, "Hey, bug boy! Those flowers better be worth what we're paying for the entertainment!"

"This is better than dinner theater!" cackled an elderly woman. "Look how he's shaking like a leaf!"

Logan looked desperately at Amelia. "We took vows. You promised to love me through better or worse."

"And this is definitely worse," Amelia replied coldly. "Logan, you're like a parasite. You attached yourself to me and sucked away my happiness, my dreams, my future. But I finally found the cure."

She snuggled closer to Darien, who wrapped his arm possessively around her waist.

"The cure is class, breeding, and money," Darien added with a smirk. "Three things you'll never have, delivery boy."

"Look at his clothes," someone in the crowd whispered loudly. "He probably bought that shirt at a thrift store."

"And those hands!" another guest exclaimed. "Like a common laborer. How disgusting."

"He's tracking dirt on the marble," complained a woman in furs. "Someone should call the exterminator."

Logan's grip tightened on the bouquet until his knuckles turned white. "I loved you, Amelia. I still love you."

"Love?" Amelia threw back her head and laughed. "You call living in that cramped apartment love? You call eating ramen noodles for dinner love? You call never being able to afford anything nice love?"

"We were happy," Logan protested weakly.

"You were happy," she corrected sharply. "I was suffocating. Every day with you was like being trapped in a cage with a diseased rat. I can’t stand it anymore!”

Darien stepped forward, towering over Logan as if wanting to intimidate him.

"Here's what's going to happen, insect. You're going to crawl back to whatever hole you came from, and you're never going to bother my wife again."

"Your wife?" Logan's voice broke. "She's my wife!"

"Not anymore," Darien said smoothly. "I had our marriage annulled last month. Some clever lawyer work, a few well-placed bribes, and poof—your pathetic little union never existed."

The crowd gasped and then burst into applause.

"Brilliant!" someone shouted.

"Like swatting a fly!" called another.

Logan felt the world spinning around him. "Annulled? You can't just... that's not how it works..."

"It is when you have money and connections," Darien replied casually. "Things a bottom-feeder like you wouldn't understand."

"Logan," Amelia said, her voice now ice-cold, "you're embarrassing yourself. Look around. Do you see anyone here who looks like you? Do you see anyone who smells like fertilizer and cheap soap?"

The guests began pointing and whispering more loudly now.

"He reeks!" complained someone near the back.

"Like compost and failure," added another voice.

"I can smell him from here," a woman said dramatically, covering her nose with a silk handkerchief.

Logan looked down at himself—his worn work clothes, his dirty boots, his rough hands still holding the beautiful flowers meant for this mockery of a wedding.

"You can’t dump me, I am your fucking husband.”