The Hidden Tycoon: My Ex-Husband Is a Billionaire

Chapter 6

Dylan looked at Rachel—at the woman he'd once loved enough to give up everything for—and felt only a cold, detached amusement. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth, though there was no warmth in it.

"That's an interesting accusation coming from you, Rachel," he said, his voice carrying just enough edge to cut. "Considering your relationship with Tyler here seems far more intimate than appropriate for a simple business partnership. Tell me, when exactly did this 'cooperation' between you two begin? Before or after you started coming home late reeking of alcohol and expensive cologne?"

Rachel's face went white, then crimson. The crowd around them murmured with renewed interest, their eyes darting between Rachel and Tyler with speculation.

"How dare you!" Rachel's voice cracked like a whip. "How dare you try to twist this around on me! I've been working—building my company while you sat at home doing nothing! Tyler has been a professional colleague, nothing more. Unlike you, parading around with your mistress in public!"

"Mistress?" Dylan's laugh was short and humorless. "Sophia and I met today, Rachel. Literally hours ago. But I suppose projection has always been your specialty."

"Liar!" Rachel shrieked, her composure completely shattered. The polished businesswoman facade had crumbled, revealing something ugly beneath. "You're a liar and a cheat, just like you're a liar about being invited here by the Sterling family! Is that your game? Seduce some woman, get her to pretend she's connected to the Sterlings, and try to humiliate me?"

She turned her vicious gaze on Sophia. "Let me guess, sweetheart. He told you he had money, right? That he was somebody important? And now you're playing along with his delusions. Well, wake up—you're shacking up with a broke, unemployed loser who just signed away any claim to my fortune."

Sophia's expression remained serene, almost pitying. "As I said, you really don't understand the situation at all."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Rachel spat. "You're his accomplice in this pathetic scheme. Tell me, are you going to claim you're from the Sterling family? Is that the story? That you're the one who invited him here?"

Dylan's voice was calm, almost bored. "Sophia is indeed from the Sterling family. But no, she's not the one who invited me to dinner."

The lobby erupted in laughter—harsh, mocking laughter that echoed off the marble floors and crystal chandeliers. Several guests doubled over, clearly finding Dylan's claim hilarious.

"Oh my God!" one woman gasped between giggles. "Did he really just say that?"

"The delusion is strong with this one," another man added.

Tyler's wheezy laughter was the loudest of all. He clutched his substantial belly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Rachel, darling, I have to say—your ex-husband is truly a dreamer. A fantasist of the highest order!" He wiped at his eyes theatrically. "This is better than dinner theater!"

Rachel's expression was a mixture of disgust and vindication. "See? This is who you really are, Dylan. A desperate, delusional fool who makes up stories to feel important. I wasted five years of my life married to a man who lives in a fantasy world."

The commotion had grown loud enough to attract attention from deeper within the hotel. The sound of sharp footsteps approached—the click-clack of expensive heels against marble in a rhythm that spoke of authority and purpose.

A woman emerged from one of the administrative corridors, her professional attire immaculate, her expression one of controlled irritation at the disturbance. She was in her late thirties, attractive in a severe way, with her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun that emphasized her sharp cheekbones. Her name tag identified her as Patricia Lewis, Hotel Manager.

"What on earth is going on here?" Patricia demanded, her voice cutting through the noise. "This is the Grand Meridian Hotel, not a circus."

"Patricia!" Tyler's face lit up immediately. He hurried toward her, his earlier mockery replaced with warm familiarity. "Thank God you're here. We have a situation."

Patricia's stern expression softened marginally. "Mr.  Richmond. I should have known you'd be involved somehow." There was affection in her tone—they clearly knew each other well. "What's the problem?"

Tyler gestured dramatically toward Dylan and Sophia. "Two lunatics have infiltrated your hotel, Patricia. This man—" he pointed at Dylan with undisguised contempt, "—claims that the Sterling family invited him here for dinner. And this woman beside him says she's actually from the Sterling family." He laughed again. "Can you believe it? The sheer audacity!"

Patricia's expression shifted instantly. Her face went pale, then her eyes narrowed as she studied the situation more carefully. "The Sterling family invited someone here for dinner?"

"That's what he claims," Rachel interjected, stepping forward. "It's obviously a lie. He's my ex-husband—a unemployed nobody who stayed home taking care of our daughter while I built my career. Now he's here trying to sabotage my business deal by pretending to be important."

But Patricia didn't respond immediately. Something in her demeanor had changed—a tension in her shoulders, a calculation behind her eyes. She knew something the others didn't.

The crowd sensed the shift. Their laughter died down, replaced by uncertain murmurs. Could there be truth to what the man was saying?

Tyler noticed Patricia's hesitation and jumped in quickly. "Patricia, don't let them confuse you. The only reason the Sterling family is here today is because Rachel—" he placed his hand on Rachel's back possessively, "—is signing a major cooperation agreement with them. I arranged the introduction myself. I'm hosting this celebration dinner for Rachel and the Sterlings. That's what's happening here today."

Rachel nodded eagerly. "Exactly. Tyler's been incredibly helpful in facilitating this partnership. The Sterlings recognized my company's potential thanks to his recommendation. We're signing the contracts this afternoon."

Patricia's expression remained difficult to read, but Tyler's explanation seemed to provide some reassurance. Still, her eyes kept darting back to Dylan and Sophia, studying them with professional scrutiny.

"I see," Patricia said slowly. "Mr.  Richmond, you're certain about the nature of today's event?"

"Absolutely certain," Tyler replied confidently. "I've been in contact with the Sterling family's representatives all week. Everything is arranged—the conference room, the celebration dinner afterward, everything. These two—" he waved dismissively at Dylan and Sophia, "—are clearly trying to crash the party. Probably hoping to network or cause some kind of scene."

Patricia straightened, her professional demeanor reasserting itself. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice carried the weight of authority. "Ladies and gentlemen, let me make something very clear. The Grand Meridian Hotel is property of the Sterling family. I've been the manager here for twelve years, and in that time, I've come to know every single member of the Sterling family personally."

She pushed through the gathered crowd, her heels clicking purposefully as she approached Dylan and Sophia. The spectators parted for her, creating a clear path. The lobby had fallen silent, everyone waiting to see how this would resolve.

Patricia stopped directly in front of Dylan and Sophia, her eyes moving between them with intense scrutiny. She examined Dylan's face carefully—his features, his bearing, the calm confidence in his eyes. Then she turned her attention to Sophia, studying her with equal intensity.

Emma pressed closer to her father, frightened by the woman's severe expression. Dylan's hand moved protectively to his daughter's shoulder.

The silence stretched. Patricia's jaw tightened. Her hands clenched at her sides. Then her face transformed—not with recognition or apology, but with cold, certain anger.

"Security!" Patricia's voice rang through the lobby like a gunshot. "Get these two people out of my hotel immediately!"

The crowd gasped. Tyler and Rachel's faces split into identical grins of triumph.

"I knew it!" Rachel crowed. "I knew he was lying! Did you see that, everyone? The hotel manager herself just confirmed they're frauds!"

"Pathetic," Tyler added, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. "Truly pathetic, Dylan. Did you really think you could pull this off? That you could just walk into a luxury hotel and claim to be somebody important?"

Four security guards materialized from various positions around the lobby, converging on Dylan and Sophia's location. They were large men, professional in their movements, their expressions neutral but firm.

"Ma'am, sir," the lead guard said, addressing Dylan and Sophia. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises."

Sophia's face had gone pale, her earlier amusement completely evaporated. She looked at Patricia with something between shock and disbelief. "Wait, there's been a mistake—"

"No mistake," Patricia cut her off coldly. "I know every Sterling family member, and you are not one of them. I don't know what kind of scam you're running, but it won't work here."

"This is ridiculous," Sophia protested, her voice rising. "If you would just—"

"Security, remove them. Now."

The guards moved in, reaching for Dylan's arms. Emma began to cry, clutching at her father's leg. The crowd watched with a mixture of satisfaction and fascination, some already pulling out their phones to record the scene.

The security guards had just gotten their hands on Dylan when the sound of the hotel's front doors burst open with tremendous force. The noise was so sudden, so violent, that everyone in the lobby jumped and turned.

What they saw made several people gasp aloud.