The Hidden Tycoon: My Ex-Husband Is a Billionaire

Chapter 5

Victor studied Dylan's face carefully, noting the tightness around his eyes, the set of his jaw. The phone call with Rachel had clearly affected him more than he was letting on. The old man's expression darkened with protective fury.

"Young Master," Victor said, his voice low and serious. "What about the cooperation with Ms. Bennett's company? Do you still wish us to proceed with the contract signing?"

Dylan stared out the window for a long moment, watching the city streets blur past. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat, emotionless. "I only help my wife's company, Victor. Not my ex-wife's."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Victor's lips curved into a thin smile—not of pleasure, but of understanding. The message was clear: Rachel Bennett had just lost the most powerful ally she never knew she had.

"I understand completely, Young Master," Victor said, pulling out his phone. "I'll make the necessary arrangements."

Emma, sensing the tension but not understanding it, tugged on Dylan's sleeve. "Daddy, are you okay?"

Dylan's expression softened as he looked down at his daughter. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just thinking about what dessert you should try first at the banquet."

Her face lit up immediately. "Can I have cake?"

"You can have whatever you want."

The convoy pulled up to the Grand Meridian Hotel—a towering structure of glass and steel that dominated the city's skyline. Valets rushed forward as the vehicles stopped, their eyes widening at the sheer number of luxury cars. The Rolls-Royce came to rest directly in front of the main entrance, where a red carpet had been rolled out.

Richard opened the door, bowing as Dylan and Emma stepped out. Sophia emerged from the other side, her movements graceful and practiced. She'd been largely quiet during the ride, occasionally glancing at Dylan with those shy, downcast eyes that seemed so demure and innocent.

Victor climbed out last, surveying the assembled Sterling family members who had arrived ahead of them. Then his eyes fell on Sophia, and a calculating look crossed his weathered features. He'd been thinking about this moment since he'd called his granddaughter home.

"Young Master," Victor said, turning to Dylan. "If you don't mind, I need to handle some urgent business regarding the Bennett company situation. I should make some calls, speak with our legal team about canceling the contract." He gestured toward the hotel entrance. "Perhaps Sophia could escort you and Emma inside? She knows the hotel well—she helped arrange the banquet."

Sophia's eyes widened slightly, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. "Grandfather, I'm sure Mr. Pierce doesn't need—"

"Nonsense," Victor interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "The Young Master is our honored guest. It would be rude to make him wait in the lobby while I conduct business." He looked at Dylan apologetically. "I'll join you shortly. Sophia will take good care of you."

Before Dylan could respond, Victor had already turned away, barking orders into his phone. The other Sterling family members dispersed to various positions around the hotel, leaving Dylan, Emma, and Sophia standing at the entrance.

Dylan recognized the manipulation for what it was, but he was too tired to care. "Shall we?" he said politely to Sophia.

"Of course." Sophia smiled, that same shy expression playing across her features. "Please, follow me."

They entered through the grand revolving doors, stepping into a lobby that dripped with opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their light reflecting off marble floors so polished they looked like mirrors. Elegant furniture dotted the space, and soft classical music played from hidden speakers.

Emma gasped. "Daddy, it's like a palace!"

"It is rather grand, isn't it?" Sophia said warmly, her attention focused on the little girl. "Have you ever been to a hotel like this before, Emma?"

"Never! Mommy said places like this were too expensive for—" Emma stopped, suddenly uncertain.

Dylan squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Well, you're here now. That's all that matters."

They'd taken perhaps five steps into the lobby when a sharp, familiar voice cut through the ambient noise like a knife.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Dylan's jaw tightened. He turned slowly to see Rachel standing near the reception desk, her face flushed with anger and something else—embarrassment, perhaps, or shock. Beside her stood a portly man in an expensive suit that strained slightly across his midsection. His hair was slicked back with too much gel, and multiple gold rings adorned his pudgy fingers.

Rachel's eyes were wide with disbelief and fury. "I asked you a question, Dylan! Why are you here? Have you been following me?"

The lobby fell quiet. Other guests turned to stare at the commotion. Hotel security personnel shifted their positions, moving subtly closer to the developing scene.

Dylan met Rachel's gaze with cool indifference. For a moment, he saw a flash of the girl he'd fallen in love with years ago—bright-eyed, ambitious, full of dreams. But that girl was gone, replaced by this cold, bitter stranger.

"I'm here as a guest of the Sterling family," Dylan said calmly. "They invited me for dinner."

The silence that followed was broken by laughter—harsh, mocking laughter that echoed through the lobby. Rachel threw her head back, her laugh verging on hysterical. The portly man beside her joined in, his chuckles wheezy and condescending.

"Oh, that's rich!" Rachel gasped between laughs. "You expect me to believe the Sterling family invited you—you—to dinner? At the Grand Meridian Hotel? The same family I'm about to sign a multi-million dollar deal with?"

"I don't expect you to believe anything," Dylan replied, his tone unchanged. "I'm simply stating a fact."

The portly man stepped forward, his small eyes assessing Dylan with obvious disdain. "Rachel, darling, is this the famous ex-husband you were telling me about?"

Rachel's lip curled. "Unfortunately, yes. Tyler, this is Dylan Pierce. The man who contributed absolutely nothing to my success and now thinks he can show up at a place like this pretending to be somebody."

Tyler  Richmond—for that was clearly who this man was—smirked, his multiple chins wobbling slightly. "Pleasure to meet you, Dylan. I'm Tyler  Richmond, president of  Richmond Industries. Worth about $800 million, give or take." He said it casually, as if discussing the weather, but his eyes gleamed with self-satisfaction. "I'm very familiar with the Sterling family—we do business together regularly. In fact, I'm the one who introduced Rachel to them. I could make a single phone call right now and confirm whether your little story is true or not."

"Please, feel free," Dylan said.

Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't encourage him, Dylan. We both know you're lying. The Sterling family doesn't associate with nobodies. Tyler helped me secure this deal because he recognizes talent and potential. Unlike you, he actually has connections, power, influence. He's a real man."

A small crowd had begun to gather—other hotel guests drawn by the raised voices and obvious conflict. They whispered among themselves, clearly intrigued by the drama unfolding in the luxurious lobby.

"Did you hear that?" one woman murmured. "That's Tyler  Richmond. I've seen him on the news."

"And that's Rachel Bennett," another added. "Her company's about to go public. She's brilliant."

"Who's the other guy? The one in the regular clothes?"

"Probably just some ex trying to cause trouble. How pathetic."

Tyler basked in the attention, puffing up like a peacock. "Rachel's company is about to become the next big thing in this city, Dylan. Thanks to my connections and the Sterling family's support, she's going to be a billionaire within the year. Where will you be? Still changing diapers and pretending you're somebody you're not?"

That's when Sophia laughed.

It wasn't a giggle or a chuckle—it was a full, genuine laugh that rang through the lobby with crystalline clarity. She covered her mouth with one elegant hand, her eyes dancing with amusement she couldn't quite hide.

The sound made everyone turn. Rachel's face flushed darker, her eyes locking onto Sophia with sudden, intense focus.

"Who," Rachel said slowly, her voice dripping with venom, "are you?"

Sophia composed herself quickly, though a smile still played at the corners of her lips. "My apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt."

But Rachel wasn't about to let it go. She took several steps toward Sophia, her heels clicking aggressively against the marble floor. "No, please. Share what's so funny. We'd all love to know what's amusing about this situation."

When Sophia didn't immediately respond, Rachel's gaze snapped back to Dylan. Her expression transformed into something ugly—suspicious, accusatory, hateful.

"Is this her?" Rachel demanded. "Is this the woman you've been cheating on me with?"

The accusation hung in the air like poisonous gas. The gathered crowd gasped, their whispers growing louder. Emma pressed closer to her father's leg, frightened by her mother's tone.

"That's what this has all been about, hasn't it?" Rachel continued, her voice rising. "The sudden divorce request, the indifference to money, the cold shoulder. You've been having an affair! How long, Dylan? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back with this woman?"