The Beggar Husband She Divorced Is a Trillionaire

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The lobby went deathly silent.

Vivian stared at him like he had just slapped her. "Excuse me?"

Brandon stepped forward, his face flushing with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking like that? You're nobody. You have no right to—"

"Mr. Reed," Logan said, ignoring Brandon entirely and looking directly at Marcus. "I think there's been a misunderstanding about who deserves Imperial Group's support."

Marcus's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes — acknowledgment, perhaps. Understanding.

Vivian laughed, the sound brittle and disbelieving. She looked around at the crowd, as if seeking confirmation that this was as insane as it sounded.

 "Oh my God. You've completely lost your mind, haven't you? You think you can just waltz in here and tell the CEO of Imperial Group who he should and shouldn't partner with?"

"You're nothing, Logan," Brandon added, his voice dripping with contempt. He gestured at the watching crowd. "Everyone here knows it. You don't have the authority, the credentials, or the credibility to say anything about business partnerships. You're a leech who lived off Vivian for years. What qualifications do you possibly have?"

Logan's gaze didn't waver. "More than you think."

Marcus Reed's eyes widened fractionally when he saw Logan step out from behind Vivian and Brandon. For a split second, his professional mask slipped, revealing genuine shock.

Then understanding flooded his expression.

He knew exactly what Logan was doing.

And more importantly, he knew exactly who had the authority to do it.

Emma stood near the entrance, her portfolio still clutched to her chest, her eyes darting between Logan and Marcus with visible confusion. She had no idea why this man — this stranger who somehow knew her, who had been married to Vivian — was suddenly defending her.

"You idiot!" Vivian's face flushed crimson with rage. She whirled toward Marcus, her voice rising to a near-scream. "Mr. Reed, I am so sorry. My ex-husband is clearly having a mental breakdown. He has no authority to say anything about our partnership. He's nobody. A pathetic leech who I just divorced today. Please, ignore everything he—"

"Enough," Marcus said quietly.

The single word cut through Vivian's tirade like a knife.

She stopped mid-sentence, blinking at him in confusion.

Marcus's expression had gone cold. Arctic cold. The kind of cold that made billion-dollar deals collapse and careers end.

Vivian recovered quickly, forcing a shaky smile. "Mr. Reed, I understand this must be uncomfortable for you. Logan has always been unstable. Let me just call security and have him removed so we can—"

"Security!" Vivian snapped, turning toward the guards. "Get this man out of here. Now! And if he resists, break his legs. I don't care. Just get him out of my sight!"

The guards took a step forward.

Marcus moved faster.

His hand shot out, and the crack of his palm against Vivian's cheek echoed through the lobby like a gunshot.

Vivian stumbled backward, her hand flying to her face, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The entire room seemed to freeze.

"Mr. Reed?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "What—"

"You just threatened to break the legs of my guest," Marcus said, his voice low and dangerous. "In front of me. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Vivian's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Brandon stood frozen beside her, his face pale.

Emma's eyes were wide, her breath caught somewhere between shock and confusion.

Brandon finally found his voice, though it came out high and uncertain. "Mr. Reed, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Logan isn't your guest. He's a nobody. A broke loser that Vivian just divorced. He's been lying to everyone all night, claiming he had dinner with you and Samuel Wright. He's trying to trick you into—"

"He wasn't lying," Marcus said flatly.

The words landed like a bomb.

Brandon's face went white. "What?"

"I said," Marcus repeated, his voice colder now, "he wasn't lying. Mr. Mercer was my guest tonight. Along with Samuel Wright. We had dinner on the top floor. The three of us. Just like he said."

Vivian stared at Marcus like he had just told her the sky was falling. "That's… that's impossible. Logan is nobody. He has nothing. He—"

"He has more than you could possibly comprehend," Marcus cut in. His gaze shifted to Logan, and something in his expression softened — not much, but enough. "And you just insulted him. Threatened him. Ordered him removed like trash."

Emma was watching now with an expression that had shifted from confusion to something else. Curiosity. Recognition. Like she was seeing Logan for the first time and realizing there was something beneath the surface she had completely missed.

Brandon shook his head frantically. "No. No, this doesn't make sense. Logan is a fraud. He's been living off Vivian for years. He doesn't have connections. He doesn't have money. He's nothing!"

"He's nothing," Vivian echoed, her voice rising with desperate conviction. She turned to Marcus, her eyes pleading now. "Mr. Reed, please. You have to understand. Logan is a con artist. He's probably lying to you. Whatever he told you tonight was probably fabricated. He's trying to manipulate you into—"

"Manipulate me?" Marcus's voice dropped to something deadly quiet. "You think he manipulated Samuel Wright and me? You think we invited a 'nobody' to the most exclusive floor of this restaurant for fun?"

Vivian's confidence was cracking now, visible fractures spreading across her composure. "I… I don't understand. Logan doesn't have anything. He can't possibly—"

"He has everything you don't," Marcus said coldly. "Class. Dignity. Integrity. And the respect of people far more powerful than you'll ever meet."

Brandon stepped forward, his face red now, desperation making him reckless. "This is a joke, right? You're joking. Logan Mercer is a loser. A pathetic nobody who couldn't hold down a job. Vivian supported him for years. He lived in her apartment, ate her food, contributed nothing. He's a parasite!"

"A parasite," Marcus repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Is that what you think?"

"It's what we know," Vivian said, her voice shaking but defiant. "Logan has nothing, Mr. Reed. No career. No money. No influence. Whatever story he told you tonight was a lie. I'm his ex-wife. I know him better than anyone. He's worthless."

Emma was staring at Logan now, her expression unreadable. But there was something in her eyes — a question forming, a memory stirring.

Marcus looked at Vivian and Brandon for a long moment.

Then he turned to the bodyguards flanking him. "Teach them a lesson."

"What?" Vivian's voice came out in a squeak.

The bodyguards moved with efficient precision. One stepped toward Vivian, the other toward Brandon.

"Wait—" Brandon started.

The first guard's hand connected with Brandon's face with a sharp crack that echoed through the lobby. Brandon's head snapped to the side, and he stumbled, his hand flying to his cheek.

The second guard slapped Vivian with equal force.

She let out a cry of pain and shock, tears springing to her eyes as she clutched her face.

"Mr. Reed, please!" Vivian's voice broke.