THE UNDERESTIMATED BILLIONAIRE TYCOON

Serving Her Papers, She's Earned It

The door opened at dawn, and Lillian walked in wearing yesterday's triumph like armor.

Blake was still on the sofa. Still in the same clothes. Still surrounded by the ruins of a celebration dinner meant for two.

She barely glanced at him. Just dropped her designer purse and rolled her neck with a wince.

"Massage. Now. My shoulders are killing me."

Blake didn't move.

Lillian's irritation spiked. "Did you hear me? I've been networking all night. The least you could do is make yourself useful."

"Where were you last night?"

His voice stopped her cold. Flat. Empty.

Lillian turned, really looking at him for the first time. His eyes were red-rimmed. His jaw tight. He looked wrecked.

Good.

Maybe now he'd understand what it felt like to be ignored. To be taken for granted.

"The celebration banquet. I already told you." She kicked off her heels. "My phone died. Is there a problem?"

"I called you. Multiple times."

"And I just explained why I couldn't answer." Lillian crossed her arms. "What is this? You're interrogating me now? After everything I accomplished yesterday, this is what I come home to?"

Blake pulled out his phone. His hand was steady. Too steady.

"Explain this."

He turned the screen toward her.

The video played. The proposal. The ring. Carter's arms around her. Her smile—radiant, genuine, the smile she'd been saving for this moment.

The smile Blake had never earned.

Lillian's eyes narrowed. "Are you having me followed?"

"Answer the question."

"No." She stepped forward, snatched the phone from his hand, and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack. "How dare you spy on me! Is this what you do with your pathetic free time?"

"I didn't record anything." Blake's voice was ice. "Someone sent it to me."

"Sure they did." Lillian's laugh was sharp. Mean. "You probably hired some investigator because you're so insecure you can't stand that I'm successful while you're—" She gestured at him, dismissive. "—this."

"Lillian." He said her name like a death sentence. "Is it true?"

She could've denied it. Could've played innocent. Could've bought herself time.

She didn't care to.

"Yes." The word came out clean. Final. "It's true. So what?"

Blake's expression didn't change. That somehow made it worse.

"Look at you." Lillian's voice rose, sharp and cutting. "Just look at yourself, Blake. What exactly did you think would happen? That I'd stay married to a man whose biggest accomplishment is perfecting a pot roast?"

"I asked you a question—"

"I need a real husband!" She was pacing now, energy crackling through her like electricity. "Someone I can stand beside at galas without feeling embarrassed. Someone investors take seriously. Not a glorified maid who thinks bringing me tea is contributing to this marriage."

"So you cheated."

"I upgraded." Lillian's smile was cruel. "There's a difference."

Blake stood slowly. Something about his posture had changed. He looked dangerous.

"Is that what you're calling it?"

"That's what it is." Lillian lifted her chin. "Carter is my equal. He understands ambition. Power. Success. He helped me get the Nasdaq approval—did you know that? He pulled strings. Made calls. Actually did something while you were here folding laundry."

Blake's brows furrowed, So that's what she believes? That Carter arranged it all? The irony was almost funny. She'd chosen her hero. Let her keep him.

"Three years," Lillian continued, voice cold as winter. "Three years I've been carrying this marriage on my back while you played house. Did you really think I'd stay with you forever? Out of what—pity? Obligation?"

"Love," Blake said quietly. "I thought maybe love."

Lillian laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was hollow and sharp.

"Love doesn't pay bills, Blake. Love doesn't build empires. Love doesn't get you on the Nasdaq." She moved closer, eyes glittering with something that looked like contempt. "You know what you were? Convenient. A warm body in the house who could cook and clean while I focused on things that actually mattered."

Blake's hands curled into fists. Then uncurled. Then he reached behind him and pulled out folded papers.

Divorce agreement.

He'd already signed it. His signature bold and final at the bottom.

"Then we're done," he said simply.

Lillian stared at the papers. At his signature. At the audacity.

"What—" Her voice came out strangled. "What is this?"

"Freedom." Blake placed the papers on the table between them. "Sign. I won't contest anything. You can have whatever story you want. I won't tell anyone the truth."

"You're divorcing me?" The words came out wrong. Shocked. "You think you get to divorce me?"

"I'm giving you what you want," Blake said. His voice was so calm it was terrifying. "You just told me I'm beneath you. That I'm convenient. That Carter is your upgrade. So take him. Take everything. I'm done."

Rage flooded through Lillian like wildfire.

"You arrogant—" She grabbed the papers, ready to tear them apart. "You think you get to decide when this marriage ends? You think you have any power here?"

Blake met her eyes. "Sign the papers, Lillian."

"No." The word came out venomous. "You don't get to walk away. Not after three years of living in my house, eating my food, hiding behind my success."

"Your house?" Blake's smile was terrible. "Your food? Your success?"

"Yes! Mine!" Lillian threw the papers at him. They scattered across the floor like broken promises. "Everything you have is because of me! Without me, you're nothing! You're a nobody who got lucky marrying up!"

Blake bent down, gathered the papers calmly, and set them back on the table.

"You have three days," he said quietly. "Read them. Think about what you really want. I'll come back to collect them signed."

He turned toward the door.

"Don't you dare!" Lillian's voice climbed to a shriek. "If you walk out that door, don't ever think about crawling back! You hear me? When you're alone and pathetic and realize you threw away the best thing that ever happened to you, don't come begging!"

Blake paused at the threshold. Didn't turn around.

"The best thing that ever happened to me," he said softly, "was my mother teaching me that I deserved better than this."

Then he was gone.

The door clicked shut.