THE SERVANT HUSBAND IS THE QUADRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter 6

MICHAEL'S POV

The Grandview Hotel towered above us like a monument to wealth and power, its seven floors representing a rigid hierarchy of social status.

 The ground floor alone required a net worth of at least fifty million just to book an event. 

Each floor above demanded exponentially more influence and connections.

Tina Fletcher straightened her designer dress with obvious pride.

 "Thanks to Derek's connections, we've secured the third floor for Mother Fletcher's birthday banquet this year. Third floor! Can you imagine?"

Kevin nodded enthusiastically.

 "Usually we're stuck on the second floor with the rest of the middle-tier families. This is our chance to finally prove we belong with the upper echelon."

David smirked at me.

 "Not that you'd understand the significance, Michael. You've never moved in circles where such things matter."

I bit back my response, knowing that the black card in my pocket could probably buy this entire hotel without making a dent in the Sterling family fortune.

"This banquet could change everything for us," Tina continued.

 "If we make the right impression on Mother Fletcher tonight, she might finally give Sarah the resources she deserves instead of wasting them on her worthless husband."

"About that," Kevin said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

 "We only arranged Sarah's marriage to you because she's our only daughter, and according to the old man's will, she needed to be married to inherit the family business."

Tina nodded grimly. 

"You needed money for your mother's medical bills, we needed a son-in-law. It seemed like a practical arrangement."

"But Mother Fletcher ignored her own husband's will," David added bitterly.

 "She gave the bulk of the family business to Uncle Richard instead, leaving us with that failing construction company. Twenty years of loyal service to the family, and we get scraps."

Kevin's jaw tightened.

 "That's why tonight is so important. Derek Manning has the kind of connections and reputation that could change Mother Fletcher's mind about our branch of the family."

The mention of Derek's name made my hands clench into fists.

 I was about to respond when Tina suddenly brightened, her entire demeanor shifting.

"Oh, speak of the devil!" she exclaimed, waving enthusiastically.

A gleaming silver Porsche pulled up to the hotel's valet station, its engine purring with expensive precision. 

Derek Manning stepped out from the driver's side, adjusting his tailored suit jacket with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted his place in the world.

But what made my heart stop was seeing Sarah emerge from the passenger seat.

She looked stunning in a midnight blue evening gown, her hair styled perfectly, every inch the successful businesswoman.

 But there was something in her posture, a tension around her eyes, that suggested she wasn't entirely comfortable.

The chill that had been growing in my chest since Derek's phone call earlier turned into a block of ice.

 I'd been clinging to hope, telling myself there might be some explanation, some misunderstanding.

 But seeing her arrive with him, seeing my in-laws rush forward like he was their returning hero, shattered whatever illusions I'd been holding onto.

"Derek! So wonderful that you could make time for us," Tina gushed, practically throwing herself at him with enthusiasm.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Fletcher," Derek replied smoothly, his voice carrying that same smug confidence I'd heard on the phone.

 "I wouldn't miss celebrating such an important occasion with your family."

Kevin pumped his hand eagerly.

 "We can't thank you enough for arranging the third-floor venue. The connections you have are simply remarkable."

"It's nothing, really," Derek said with false modesty.

 "When you have the right relationships, doors open naturally."

Sarah stood slightly apart from the group, her expression unreadable.

 She hadn't said a word yet, and when she finally noticed me standing there, her face immediately hardened with irritation.

"Michael, what happened to you?" she asked, taking in my torn shirt and bruised face.

 "You look like you've been in a street fight."

"There was an emergency—"

"I don't have time for your dramas right now," she cut me off sharply.

 "I have actual business to handle, unlike some people who apparently spend their time brawling."

Her tone was so dismissive, so completely devoid of concern for my wellbeing, that it felt like a physical blow.

"Don't be so paranoid all the time," she continued, her voice growing more annoyed. "I'm already stressed enough about tonight without you adding to it."

I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw a stranger. 

When had she become someone who could speak to me with such casual cruelty?

 When had I become nothing more than an inconvenience in her life?

A bitter smile crossed my face.

 "You're right, Sarah. You are stressed. And I'm clearly not helping."

Something in my tone must have caught her attention because her expression shifted slightly, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"We need to go inside," she said, glancing toward the hotel entrance where other guests were arriving.

 "Grandmother's banquet is starting, and we can't afford to be late."

"Actually," I said calmly, "I need to talk to you first. It's important."

"Michael, not now. Whatever it is can wait until—"

"No, it can't wait." I gently took her arm and guided her a few steps away from her family and Derek. "This needs to be said now."

Sarah followed reluctantly, clearly frustrated by the delay.

 "Make it quick. People are watching, and I don't want to make a scene."

I looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of the woman I'd married three years ago. 

But all I saw was impatience and barely concealed irritation.

"Sarah," I said quietly, "I want a divorce."