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Chapter 8: Sign Here
publish date:
2026-10-16 01:49:35
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My Ex-husband wants me back, but three billionaires want me Chapter 8: Sign Here
Varena’s POVI read the first page twice, but the words didn’t move an inch. They sat there, cold and familiar: In re the Marriage of Valeth. Petitioner: Rykar A. Valeth. Some case number, a judge’s name I didn’t recognize. In the corner, in faint gray, the kind of date a lawyer stamps for his own records.Twelve days ago.God. Just twelve days ago, I’d been standing in a ballroom in midnight blue, listening to Octavia talk about being bold. Twelve days ago, I’d ironed his shirt for the Aurelian because he’d said I was the only one who could do it right.“This is a joke.”“It isn’t.”“You had this drawn up before the gala.” The words came out sharp.“Varena…”“Before Sable Point. You sat there and watched your mother offer me a nutritionist, while this was in a drawer.”He winced at that, slow on the uptake. “It wasn’t in a drawer,” he said finally, eyes closing as if the room had gotten too bright.“So where was it?”“With Hargrove.”“Right. Much better.” My face felt stiff, as if I’
My Ex-husband wants me back, but three billionaires want me Chapter 7: The Papers
Varena’s POVRykar grabbed my folder, a little too deliberately, like he’d just confiscated evidence. “Not here,” he murmured.He slipped past me, out of the boardroom, and I trailed behind. Priya glanced up, caught my eye, then buried herself in her keyboard as if her life depended on it. We slipped down a stretch of frosted glass, a hallway I’d never even had occasion to walk, nobody talking, the air thick with words not said. Our steps fell silent across the carpet, sharp and hollow against polished stone where the softness ran out.His office waited at the very end, behind a hulking door of dark wood, all privacy and no windows. When he closed it, the click was crisp and expensive, a sound meant to cancel everything else.Inside, I felt small for a second. The room was huge, definitely bigger than our Halloran Street place. Actually, I pictured the floorplan: you could've fit three of our old apartments here, easy, before I stopped myself. An aircraft carrier of a desk stretched b
My Ex-husband wants me back, but three billionaires want me Chapter 6: The Boardroom
Varena’s POVRykar left the study at midnight without a word. I stayed hunched over the legal pad until the grandfather clock groaned five in the morning. After that, I showered, twisted my hair up, and forced myself into the charcoal suit I bought for his first board meeting. It still fit just at the shoulders. Everywhere else, forget it. I wore it anyway.The Valeth Tower lobby smelled like pine cleaner and burnt coffee. Ozzie was on guard duty, working his crossword, same as always. Once, at midnight, we shared a banana on the loading dock while I lugged contracts upstairs.“Mrs. Valeth. Been a while,” he said.“Eight months.”He slid the visitor log toward me, then yanked it back as his ears turned pink. “Force of habit. Go on up.”Behind his desk, spotlit like some artifact, hung a framed cashier’s check. $400,000. The brass plaque read: THE FIRST BELIEVER. Presented to Rykar Valeth, on the strength of his vision. I knew that check. I remember carrying it around in my coat for tw
My Ex-husband wants me back, but three billionaires want me Chapter 5: Eight years
Rykar’s POVThe reporter’s question just hung in the air, stiff and cold. I counted the seconds in my head. I always do that when rooms go quiet, old habit from watching deals die, one heartbeat at a time.Dennis Pruitt broke the silence, clapping me so hard on the shoulder I almost lost my footing. “Hell of a turnout,” he said, and suddenly people breathed again, the crowd unfreezing around us. The cameras swung somewhere else.Elara handed her hardhat and shovel off to a kid working crowd control, looked about eighteen, awkward in his volunteer lanyard. Suddenly the folding table at the edge of the gravel had a bright yellow hard hat and no owner.Varena was gone. She’d taken her own car too. That used to mean something. Hadn’t happened in years.My mother met me at the SUV. She’d always been able to catch me just as I tried to disappear. Her gloved hand on my arm, soft as old money, her voice warm but steely. “You were perfect,” she whispered.I said, “I said nothing.”She smiled.
My Ex-husband wants me back, but three billionaires want me Chapter 4: The Other Woman
Varena’s POVElara blew in on Thursday, and by sunrise Friday she’d staked out her ground at the Meridian site. There she was, bundled up in some chic camel coat, shovel in hand like she already belonged. The old Harlan Freight Depot always stank of diesel and river mud, same as it did when I was a kid. Except now the whole place was crawling with people. You could smell burnt sugar from a coffee cart parked by the fence. Maybe two hundred folks milling around in the cold, all eyes on the plywood risers set in front of the press pen. Most of them looked bored, but ready. On a folding table nearby, a neat row of hard hats waited, names stenciled in sharp black letters: R. VALETH. D. PRUITT. O. VALETH. My helmet was the last in line, yellow beside the whites, sticking out like a sore thumb.I flipped it over. Inside, someone had scrawled VISITOR with a marker. My ticket to the party.Some intern with a too-big lanyard rushed over when he spotted me, cheeks blazing. “Mrs. Valeth. Uh, we
My Ex-husband wants me back, but three billionaires want me Chapter 3: The Humiliation
Varena's POV I can’t make myself drive home. Not tonight. I stay parked in Lysara’s guest spot, engine off, hands still trembling on my lap, the kind of shaking you feel in your bones and not just your skin. I send her one text, because honestly, I just can’t face the stairs alone right now. She doesn’t say much when she comes down. It’s late. She’s got a coat tossed over her pajamas and she just slides into the seat beside me, silent except for flicking the heater up a notch. We don’t talk. We just let the quiet grow. Eventually, tears come, and they can’t seem to stop. Lysara doesn’t try to patch anything or fill the silence, not yet. The engine’s low hum is the only thing between us and the too-big ache in my chest. Finally, don’t ask me how long later, time’s a blur, I manage to tell her what happened.Days pass. Eleven of them, if anyone’s counting. It takes that long just to settle enough to open a box, to let my energy rest somewhere more than a night or two, to stop living ou
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