The Kingmaker Ex-Husband: Trillionaire in the Shadows

A Divorce Letter on the Night of the Celebration

The double, gold-plated wooden doors leading to the main hall of The Grand Imperial Hotel were pushed open from the outside. Damian Cross stepped inside, his breathing steady despite the simple white shirt clinging to his body appearing completely soaked. His right hand clutched a black, waterproof document tube tightly beneath his light jacket to ensure the sealed papers inside were not exposed to even a single drop of water.

Inside the seven-star ballroom, situated in the heart of the Wallcrest District in New Avalon, the atmosphere this evening was bustling with hundreds of guests from the business elite. A giant crystal chandelier on the ceiling cast a bright light onto the main stage, which bore the inscription announcing the official celebration of Caldwell Bio-Tech’s listing on the stock exchange with a valuation of three hundred million US dollars.

Damian brushed his wet black hair back as he scanned the main stage. His gaze immediately fell upon a beautiful woman in a fiery red silk gown, standing on stage holding a glass of champagne. That woman was Clarissa Caldwell, the wife he had been married to for the past three years.

However, Damian’s footsteps suddenly halted at the edge of the red carpet. Standing beside Clarissa was a tall young man in an ivory-white tuxedo, openly wrapping his arm around her waist in full view of the guests. That man was Julian Kingsley, vice-president of the investment firm Kingsley Capital, who had been a frequent visitor to Clarissa’s office for the past month.

“Isn’t that man who’s just come in Miss Clarissa’s husband, the one who works as a laboratory courier?” whispered a female guest in a blue dress, looking Damian up and down with a condescending gaze.

“That’s right. I hear his name is Damian Cross, a poor orphan who was taken in by the late Lord Arthur Caldwell before he passed away,” replied the middle-aged man beside her with a cynical smile.

“It’s absolutely disgraceful. How dare a man in such cheap, soggy clothes looking like a street tramp set foot at a celebration costing hundreds of millions of dollars like this? He’s really no match for Young Master Julian Kingsley,” retorted another guest, prompting a few chuckles from those at the neighbouring tables.

Damian paid absolutely no heed to the whispers or the looks of disgust from the guests. His gaze remained fixed on the stage where his wife was standing. In order to deliver the Nano-Cell V7 formula patent certificate on time before the end of tonight’s event, he had willingly braved the gridlock on the motorway which had come to a standstill due to the storm by running three kilometres.

“For three years now I’ve kept my promise to you, Grandad. Tonight, your grandson’s company has finally reached the pinnacle, just as you’d hoped,” Damian thought to himself as he touched the tube of documents against his chest.

Before Damian could take a step closer to the stage, two figures from his in-laws’ family appeared, rushing through the crowd of guests and immediately standing in his way. They were Damian’s mother-in-law, Margaret Caldwell, and his youngest brother-in-law, Tyler Caldwell. Both their faces flushed with anger the moment they spotted Damian near the main buffet table.

“Damian Cross! What on earth are you doing here, dressed in wet, filthy clothes like a street urchin, hah?!” shrieked Margaret, pointing at her son-in-law’s face.

“I’ve come to hand over the final approval documents from the patent office to Clarissa, Ma’am. Without these original documents on the trading floor tomorrow morning, the initial public offering of Caldwell Bio-Tech could be delayed,” Damian replied in a calm tone.

“That’s just an excuse, you shameless parasite!” interrupted Tyler, stepping forward and glaring at Damian with his chin held high in arrogance.

“Just admit you came to this seven-star hotel on purpose to sample the expensive food and ride on the coattails of my brother, who’s now a billionaire! Take a look at yourself in the mirror, Damian! Those peeling leather shoes of yours are even cheaper than a bottle of mineral water on this table!” sneered Tyler, laughing so loudly that he drew the attention of dozens of guests around them.

“Tyler’s right! For three years you’ve been eating and sleeping at the Caldwell family home without contributing anything other than being a lab errand boy!” continued Margaret with a look of hatred she made no attempt to hide.

“Back when my late husband was still alive, I was forced to stomach the sight of your wretched face at the dinner table every day because Arthur kept defending you. But now Clarissa has made a huge success of herself thanks to the support of Young Master Julian Kingsley! So you’d best get out of here straight away before you make our family lose face in front of our business associates!” ordered Margaret, waving her hand as if shooing away a fly.

Damian stared at his mother-in-law and sister-in-law with a blank expression. There was no sign of explosive anger on his face; for three years he had been hiding his true identity at the Caldwell family residence, so insults like this had become his daily bread.

“I’ll leave as soon as Clarissa receives this document,” Damian said curtly.

Shortly afterwards, Clarissa Caldwell appeared, walking down the steps of the main stage alongside Julian Kingsley. The click of Clarissa’s high heels echoed against the marble floor as she made her way towards the crowd where Damian stood. Behind them, a personal secretary could be seen carrying a thick black leather folder.

“What’s all this commotion, Madam?” asked Clarissa, stopping three metres in front of Damian.

For a moment, Clarissa’s gaze met Damian’s. Far from showing any concern at the sight of her husband, who was soaking wet from delivering important documents for her company, Clarissa’s expression was cold and full of disdain.

“Just look at this good-for-nothing husband of yours, Clarissa! He had the nerve to barge into your company’s celebration party dressed like a tramp and made the VIP guests laugh at our family!” Margaret exclaimed, gripping her daughter’s arm.

Damian pulled a waterproof document tube from under his jacket and held it out towards Clarissa. The papers inside the tube remained completely dry, even though Damian’s own clothes were soaking wet, dripping water onto the floor.

“Clarissa, here are the original Nano-Cell V7 approval documents you need for the stock market opening tomorrow morning. I’ve stored them in a watertight tube so they won’t get damaged in transit,” said Damian.

Clarissa glanced briefly at the tube containing the documents, then gave a nod to her secretary to take the tube from Damian’s hand without touching it directly. Once the tube had changed hands, she took a deep breath and looked at Damian with her chin held high.

“It’s quite a coincidence that you’ve turned up this evening, Damian. I’d actually intended to have my solicitor send it to the back office first thing tomorrow morning, but since you’re already here, we might as well settle our business right now in front of everyone,” said Clarissa in a loud voice.

“What business are you referring to?” asked Damian, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Clarissa did not reply with words. She immediately took a black leather folder from her secretary’s hand, then swung her arm, hurling the thick bundle of papers inside the folder straight at Damian’s chest.

‘Thud!’

The thick stack of papers struck Damian’s chest before finally scattering across the gleaming marble floor. The front page of the document, which had opened near Damian’s feet, bore the words in bold print: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

The atmosphere around the main table suddenly fell silent for a moment before being followed by a buzz of whispers from the invited guests. Meanwhile, Margaret and Tyler immediately broke into broad, satisfied grins at the decisive action taken by Clarissa.

“As of tonight, our three-year marriage is officially over, Damian Cross,” Clarissa stated firmly, without a trace of guilt in her eyes.

“Three years ago, I was forced to marry you solely because my gravely ill grandfather compelled me whilst I was on his hospital bed. For these past three years, I have been patient enough to bear the burden of having a husband who is a poor courier with no future, just like you,” Clarissa continued.

“Now, Caldwell Bio-Tech has become a public company worth three hundred million US dollars. I’m at the pinnacle of New Avalon’s business world, whilst you remain a small man trudging through the mud. Our worlds are as different as heaven and earth, Damian. I cannot allow my future to continue being held back by a man like you,” Clarissa said again, glancing towards Julian Kingsley, who stood beside her with a triumphant smile.

Damian lowered his gaze for a moment, staring at the divorce papers scattered across the floor, then raised his head again to look into the eyes of the woman whom, for the past three years, he had quietly supported from the shadows.

“A company worth three hundred million dollars?” muttered Damian in a calm tone, yet one that rang out clearly in Clarissa’s ears.

“Do you think the fifty-million-dollar interest-free loan from the Central Bank, the special licence from the state medical board, and the master patent licence for Nano-Cell V7 which have enabled your company to stand where it is today just fell from the sky, Clarissa?” asked Damian, looking straight into his wife’s eyes.

Hearing Damian’s question, Julian Kingsley, who had been silent all this time whilst holding his glass of wine, burst out laughing. He stepped one pace in front of Clarissa, as if to flaunt his position as the beautiful CEO’s new protector.

“Hahaha! Don’t tell me you’re going to claim all that was down to you, Damian?!” taunted Julian, glaring at Damian with a look of contempt.

“Just so you know, it was I who used my personal connections and the prestige of Kingsley Capital to lobby Central Bank Director Raymond Holt and the executive board of Apex Sovereign Holdings! Without my intervention over the past year, Clarissa’s company would never have secured that Nano-Cell V7 licence!” claimed Julian in a loud voice so that all the guests in the hall could hear.

“Did you hear that, Damian?! It was Julian who fought hard to open the door to success for me, whilst you’ve just been freeloading and collecting a fat salary at the office!” snapped Clarissa, who fully believed Julian’s lies.

“He’s a real clown with no sense of his own place! ‘He’s poor, yet still dares to talk big in front of Young Master Julian!’” retorted Tyler, laughing derisively along with the other guests.

“He even dares to claim a licence belonging to my own company right in front of me? How interesting,” thought Damian to himself, glancing alternately at the haughty faces of Julian and Clarissa.

Clarissa then reached into her expensive handbag and pulled out a signed cheque, then she simply dropped it onto the pile of divorce papers on the floor.

“That cheque is for ten thousand US dollars. Consider it a severance payment and a token of my gratitude for the three years you spent in our home. Now, get down on your knees, pick up those divorce papers, and sign them in front of me so you can leave my life for good!” Clarissa commanded in a cold tone.

Julian Kingsley gave a sly grin as he looked at the cheque and the divorce papers lying on the floor. Deliberately, he stepped forward and stamped his Italian-made leather shoes right on top of the divorce papers that Damian was supposed to sign.

“Clarissa’s been far too kind to you, mate. If you really want that ten-thousand-dollar cheque and this divorce papers, then get down on your knees at my feet and pick up this paper with both your hands!” said Julian, pressing the tip of his shoe down onto the paper.

Every pair of eyes in the main hall was now fixed on Damian to see whether he would crawl beneath Julian Kingsley’s feet. Yet, slowly, Damian raised his head instead, gazing at Julian and Clarissa with an icy stare that made the air around them suddenly feel frozen.