The Hidden Tycoon: My Ex-Husband Is a Billionaire

Chapter 2

Rachel's fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts, the phone pressed against her ear. The dining room behind her remained a disaster zone of shattered plates and spilled food, but she'd already stepped over the mess into the kitchen. On the third ring, a groggy voice answered.

"Rachel? It's almost midnight. What's wrong?"

"Karen, that bastard wants a divorce!" Rachel's voice cracked with indignation. "Can you believe it? After everything I've done, sacrificing my youth to marry him, and now he has the audacity—"

"Wait, wait." Karen's tone shifted instantly from sleepy to alert. "Dylan asked for a divorce? Dylan? Your househusband Dylan?"

"Yes! Out of nowhere, just like that. 'We should get a divorce.' As if he's doing me some kind of favor!"

A laugh erupted from the other end of the line—sharp, delighted, almost gleeful. "Oh my God, Rachel. This is perfect. This is absolutely perfect."

Rachel blinked, momentarily thrown by her friend's reaction. "Perfect? Karen, what are you—"

"Think about it. Your company's about to go public, you're signing with the Sterling family tomorrow—tomorrow, Rachel—and suddenly Mr. Stay-at-Home-Dad wants out?" Karen's voice dripped with knowing satisfaction. "He's after your money. He's been planning this, probably for months. Waiting until you're worth something before making his move."

The words sank in, and Rachel felt a fresh wave of fury wash over her. "That scheming bastard. I knew he was useless, but I didn't think he was a gold digger too."

"Listen to me." Karen's voice took on a professional edge. "I'm a divorce lawyer, and I'm your best friend. I will personally handle this case, and I promise you—I swear on everything—Dylan won't get a single penny. Not one cent of what you've built."

Rachel's hand clenched around the phone. "Damn right he won't. Tomorrow I'm signing the cooperation agreement with the Sterling family. Do you know what that means? My company's value will double, maybe triple. I've worked myself to the bone for this, and I'll be damned if that parasite thinks he can cash in on my success."

"Leave everything to me," Karen said, her tone almost predatory. "I'll draft the papers tonight. By the time I'm done with him, he'll be lucky to walk away with the clothes on his back."

"Good. Make him suffer, Karen. Make him regret ever thinking he could take advantage of me."

"Oh, I will. Trust me, I will."

Upstairs, Dylan stood outside Emma's bedroom door, his hand resting on the doorknob. He could hear soft sounds from within—not quite crying, but close. Taking a breath, he pushed the door open gently.

Emma sat on her bed, her small frame illuminated by the nightlight shaped like a crescent moon. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her favorite stuffed rabbit clutched against her chest. She looked up as he entered.

"Daddy?"

Dylan moved to her bedside and sat down, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. "Hey, sweetheart. I thought you were asleep."

"I heard you and Mommy." Her voice was small, fragile. "You were fighting again."

Dylan's heart twisted. He reached out and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry you had to hear that."

"Are you and Mommy getting divorced?"

The directness of the question nearly broke him. He'd always admired his daughter's perceptiveness, but tonight it cut deep. "Yes, sweetheart. We are."

Emma was quiet for a moment, her fingers working the rabbit's ears. When she finally spoke, her words were quiet but resolute. "I want to stay with you, Daddy."

"Emma—"

"Mommy doesn't care about me." The little girl's voice didn't waver. "She never comes to my school plays. She forgets my birthday. She doesn't read me stories or help with my homework. You do all that. You're the one who loves me."

Dylan pulled her into his arms, feeling her small body press against his chest. "I will always love you. No matter what happens, that will never change. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I love you too, Daddy."

They stayed like that until her breathing slowed and deepened, until she'd drifted off into sleep. Dylan carefully laid her back against the pillows, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. He kissed her forehead once, then slipped out of the room.

In the hallway, he pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over a contact name for just a moment before he pressed call.

The phone rang only once before a voice answered—breathless, excited, almost reverent. "Young Master! Is it really you?"

"Hello, Victor," Dylan said quietly, his voice calm. "I need a place to stay."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "You're... you're coming back? After all these years?"

"Tomorrow. I'll need accommodations for myself and my daughter."

"Of course! Anything! Everything!" Victor's voice trembled with emotion. "Young Master, I've waited so long for this day. So long..."

Dylan could hear the older man's voice crack, could picture tears streaming down his weathered face. Victor Sterling—head of the most powerful family in the city, a man who commanded billions—was crying.

"Gather everyone," Dylan said. "I want the entire Sterling family present tomorrow when I arrive."

"Yes! Yes, of course!" The sound of movement came through the phone—footsteps, then the deep, resonant clang of a bell. The family alarm bell, reserved only for the most critical announcements.

At the Sterling estate, Victor stood in the grand hall, the ancient bronze bell still reverberating through the corridors. Family members emerged from various rooms—some in pajamas, others in evening wear, all wearing expressions of confusion and concern.

"What's happened?" asked Thomas Sterling, Victor's nephew, a sharp-featured young man in his twenties. "Uncle, why have you struck the alarm bell?"

Victor's face shone with an emotion none of them had seen before—pure, unrestrained joy. "Tomorrow, we welcome a very important guest. A big shot. The biggest shot this family has ever had the honor of receiving."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Several family members exchanged glances.

"But Uncle," Thomas ventured, "tomorrow is when we're supposed to sign the contract with Rachel Bennett's company. The IPO partnership. You've been planning this for months—"

Victor's expression turned cold as ice, silencing the room instantly. "Listen to me very carefully. Welcoming our guest tomorrow is the single most important thing this family will do. Anyone who does not attend will be expelled from the Sterling family. Permanently. No exceptions."

Shocked silence filled the hall. Expelled? From the Sterling family? The consequences would be devastating—loss of status, wealth, connections, everything.

"Everyone will be there," Victor continued, his voice brooking no argument. "The contract with Rachel Bennett can wait. This cannot."

The next morning, Karen arrived at Rachel's house carrying a leather briefcase, her expression sharp and businesslike despite the early hour. Rachel was already dressed in a power suit, her hair and makeup flawless, ready for her meeting with the Sterling family.

"I've got the divorce papers," Karen announced, patting her briefcase. "Ironclad. He'll get nothing."

"Good." Rachel checked her watch. "I need to leave in twenty minutes. Handle everything, Karen. I'm trusting you with this."

"Consider it done. Where is the leech?"

"Probably still upstairs, licking his wounds." Rachel's lip curled. "Make him suffer for me."

"Oh, I intend to."

After Rachel left, Karen made her way to the living room where Dylan was sitting calmly on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hands. He looked up as she entered, his expression neutral.

"Dylan." Karen's voice dripped with false sweetness as she set her briefcase on the coffee table. "Let's get down to business, shall we? I know exactly what you're after."

"Do you?" Dylan's tone was mild, almost disinterested.

"Please." Karen laughed, pulling out a thick stack of papers. "You waited until Rachel's company was about to explode in value, and now you want your cut. It's pathetically transparent. But here's the thing—you're not getting a penny. Not one red cent."

She slid the papers across the table toward him, her smile vicious. "This divorce agreement ensures that. Sign it, and maybe we can all move on with our lives. Though I have to say, I'm almost disappointed. I thought you'd at least put up a fight, try to negotiate. But looking at you now, I can see Rachel was right. You really are pathetic."

Dylan picked up the papers, his eyes scanning the pages quickly. "I only have one condition."

Karen's eyebrows rose. "Oh? And what's that? A severance package? A monthly allowance? Dream on."

"I want full custody of Emma."

The words hung in the air. Karen stared at him, then burst out laughing—a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the room.

"That's it? That's your only demand?" She slapped her knee. "Oh my God, Dylan. You're even dumber than I thought. Rachel's already agreed to let you have the kid. She doesn't want her anyway. You just saved me hours of negotiation."

She pulled out a pen and thrust it toward him. "Sign. Now. Before you come to your senses and realize what a terrible deal you're getting."

Dylan took the pen without hesitation. His signature flowed across the bottom of the final page in smooth, confident strokes.

Karen snatched the papers back, barely containing her glee. "You realize you just walked away with nothing, right? No money, no assets, no support. How exactly do you plan to raise a child? Can't pay rent with good intentions, Dylan. Can't buy food with father-daughter bonding time."

Dylan stood, setting his coffee cup down with a quiet clink. He looked at Karen with an expression she couldn't quite read—pity, perhaps, or amusement.

"Emma is all I need," he said simply.

Karen laughed again as he walked away. "What a fool," she muttered, already pulling out her phone to call Rachel with the good news. "What an absolute fool."