TEMPTING THE TYCOON

Aria's POV

Sanity had become a fragile thing, slipping through my fingers like sand as I stared at my laptop screen. I was searching for the perfect hall to host our fourth wedding anniversary banquet with Ethan tomorrow. I'd already secured the top caterer in the state and a renowned bartender—everything needed to impress the social elite who would flock to the event. But deep down, I knew this was more than just a party; it was my way of proving I belonged in Ethan's world, despite the shadows of my past.

"Perfect," I muttered under my breath, saving a photo of the opulent venue for later reference. Ethan and I had always gone all out for these anniversaries, turning them into spectacles of wealth and status. Yet, as I closed the laptop, a nagging doubt gnawed at me—the way his family looked at me, like I was an intruder from the "wretched background" they so often sneered about. I pushed the thought away, focusing on the details. I had to make this flawless.

The sharp click of heels on the tiled floor shattered the quiet. Louisa, my sister-in-law, strode into the dining room with her mother, Tracy, trailing behind like a shadow. Their smug expressions glowed under the white chandelier, a stark contrast to the storm brewing outside. Louisa slammed a brown envelope onto the white marble table, the impact jolting me from my thoughts.

"Sign it, bitch," she snarled, her voice dripping with venom.

My neck craned as I glanced between the envelope, Louisa, and Tracy. "What's this?" I asked, though I already sensed the malice in the air. Louisa and Tracy had never hidden their contempt for me. As Ethan's sister and mother, they saw me as nothing more than a gold-digging intruder, a remnant of the poverty I'd escaped. I'd grown up with an abusive father who abandoned us, leaving me to scrape by for my sick mother and younger sister. Marrying Ethan had been my salvation, or so I'd thought—a contract that promised security in exchange for playing the perfect wife.

Louisa snickered, folding her arms and cocking her hip defiantly. "Divorce papers. Time's up, you gold-digging slut."

Tracy lurked behind her like an enforcer, wrinkling her nose as if my presence alone offended her. She'd once told me I smelled like poverty, and now her expression confirmed it. The words hit hard, but I forced myself to stay composed. This had to be another one of their schemes; they'd tried sabotaging our marriage before, introducing him to their socialite friends and daughters, accusing me of imagined betrayals.

"What?" I snatched the envelope, the rough paper scraping my fingertips. I pulled out the documents and scanned them quickly, my eyes locking on Ethan's unmistakable signature at the bottom. My face drained of color, and my heart hammered against my ribs. "What is the meaning of this?"

Louisa stared daggers at me, her voice turning into a snarl. "Divorce means you pack your sorry ass and leave. My brother's done with your slutty nature." She circled the table and shoved a pen into my hands, her grip bruising.

My head spun as I tried to process it. Ethan and I had been fine just this morning—sharing breakfast, discussing business as usual. Why now, on the cusp of our anniversary? "It can't be," I muttered, inching backward until I leaned against the dark brown sideboard by the off-white wall. The cool wood grounded me, but only barely.

"Stop being so dramatic and sign those papers," Louisa yelled, tapping her foot impatiently on the white marble floor.

I met their gazes, defiance flickering through my haze of confusion. "I'll wait for Ethan to get back." Their hatred for our union was no secret; they'd stop at nothing to tear us apart. But Ethan had always protected me from them before. This had to be a mistake.

Tracy grimaced and closed in, her hand cracking across my face with a high-pitched smack that echoed through the room. "Are you calling us liars?" she demanded, her voice as cold as ice.

Pain flared on my cheek, and tears stung my eyes, but I couldn't tell if it was from the slap or the betrayal staring back at me from those papers. Ethan loved me—or at least, I'd believed he did. Our marriage might have started as a contract, with me acting as his wife in exchange for help with my mother's medical bills, but I'd let myself hope it had become real.

Louisa and Tracy said nothing more, just exchanged devilish grins and swept out of the room, leaving me alone with the storm raging both inside and outside.

Two hours later, the familiar rumble of Ethan's car engine cut through the rain's relentless clatter as he pulled into the driveway. My fingers, sore from nervous biting, clenched the papers tighter as I stormed to the front door, a mix of anticipation and dread flooding my veins. "Ethan, what are these?" I demanded, holding up the documents.

"Divorce papers," he replied flatly, his face a mask of cold indifference. He shrugged off his partially drenched coat and tossed it onto the white sofa. "Your services are no longer needed."

His words hit like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I thought he loved me, that our shared moments meant something beyond the contract. Was it all just an act for appearances? "Ethan... why would you...?" My voice caught in my throat, choked by pain.

"Because he doesn't want you anymore, you witch! What don't you understand?" Louisa shouted from the stairs, clearly relishing my downfall.

I ignored her, my reddened eyes fixed on Ethan. "Please talk to me. I don't understand. Why the sudden change of heart?" My chest burned with more than heartache; it felt like my entire world was unraveling.

He sighed—that heavy, ominous sigh I dreaded. It always preceded something devastating. "It's not a game, Aria. You should sign the papers and leave. I have no use for you anymore."

The room grew heavy with silence, the cold seeping in like the rain outside. My heart shattered, fractures etching deep into my bones. Blood rushed to my ears, making my head light and woozy, as if I were trapped in a nightmare. Tracy wandered back in, tossing the pen at my feet. "Sign and get out of my son's house."

The contract's terms flashed in my mind: I played the role of his wife, and in return, he covered my mother's bills. Now, that lifeline was gone. I swallowed hard, a new chill racing down my spine. "What about my mother?"

"She gets nothing. The contract is done. Leave," Ethan said, his tone ruthless and final.

My eyes widened in horror, and dignity crumbled as I dropped to my knees, clutching his leg desperately. "Please, Ethan, you're all I have." Tears streamed down my face, hot as fire against my skin.

He yanked his leg away with a groan of disgust. "Leave, you wretched slut. Ethan's found someone befitting—Bethany, the daughter of tycoon Walter Reed. She'd make a much better wife than your filthy self." Louisa grinned triumphantly.

One look at Ethan's expression confirmed it all. Thunder boomed outside, and the downpour intensified, mirroring the storm in my chest. This was about another woman, about me never truly fitting into his elite circle. Picking up the pieces of my broken heart, I rose shakily. "Fine. I'll sign it."

I grabbed the pen and wiped at my tears, but they kept falling, soaking the papers on the black coffee table as heavily as the rain outside. With a sharp inhale, I scrawled my name. It was my fault—I'd gotten too comfortable, mistaken an illusion for reality.

Shunning the glee on Tracy and Louisa's faces, I handed the papers to Ethan. "I'll pack my things."

Tracy sneered. "What things? Everything here belongs to my son. You came with nothing, so you leave with nothing."

Louisa giggled in agreement. I turned to Ethan, who remained silent, unmoved. Then he nodded to the security guard I'd barely noticed by the door. "Get her out of here. Now!"

The man seized my wrist, his rough, calloused hand bruising my skin. I winced as he dragged me into the pouring rain, leaving me with nothing—not even cab fare to reach the other side of the city. He tossed me onto the wet, cold pavement outside the gate, the chains clinking shut behind me.

I lay there for a moment, like a sinner exiled from heaven for unseen sins, my knees and elbows scraped raw. Slowly, I pushed myself up and trudged forward, a zombie in the deluge. The rain battered my skin like an unrelenting foe, forming blisters on my bare feet with every step. The freezing cold gnawed at me, but it couldn't touch the burning void in my chest.

I hugged myself tightly, teeth chattering as the chill devoured any warmth. Then, out of nowhere, a black Ferrari glided to a stop beside me. The tinted window lowered smoothly, revealing a man with jet-black hair and a face sculpted to perfection—piercing blue eyes that cut through the darkness.

"What's a damsel like you doing out in this storm? Let me give you a lift?" he asked, his voice smooth and commanding.

His gaze stirred something unexpected—a warmth in the midst of the cold. I'd seen that face before, through the fog of my pain: Julian Huxley, the ruthless CEO of Huxley Enterprises and Ethan's fiercest rival. What did he want from me? As the rain poured on, a new unease twisted in my gut—this encounter felt like the start of something far more dangerous than I could handle.