The CEO's Ex-Wife Returns with Genius Twins

The rain smashed violently against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the Vance Tower penthouse. Inside, the heavy silence was broken only by the sharp, rhythmic ticking of a grand clock and the brutal rustle of paper.

Victoria sat motionless on the plush Italian leather sofa. Her fingers, trembling slightly under her sleeves, were tightly intertwined in her lap. Across the mahogany glass table sat Ethan Vance.

He was a man carved from marble and cold granite. Tailored in an immaculate charcoal suit, his icy blue eyes fixed on her with absolute indifference. There was no warmth in his gaze, no remnant of the husband who had once sworn to cherish her when they wed two years ago.

Beside Ethan sat Melanie—Victoria’s half-sister. Melanie was dressed in a soft cream silk dress, her eyes glossy with feigned tears as she delicately rested a hand on Ethan’s forearm.

"Victoria, please don’t make this harder than it already is," Melanie whimpered, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Ethan and I never meant to hurt you. But true love can’t be forced. You were only ever a substitute while I was recovering abroad."

Victoria’s heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Two years. Two years she had spent pouring her soul into this marriage. She had personally cooked every meal he ate, stayed up until 3:00 AM every night waiting for him to return from meetings, and nursed him back to health when his chronic stomach condition nearly hospitalized him.

To him, however, she was merely a placekeeper. A convenient, quiet bride to satisfy his family’s demands while the true love of his life was away.

Ethan reached forward and flicked a thick white folder across the glass table. It slid until it stopped right in front of Victoria.

"Sign it," Ethan said. His voice was deep, smooth, and utterly devoid of emotion.

The title printed in dark, bold lettering burned into Victoria’s vision: DIVORCE AGREEMENT & SETTLEMENT WAIVER.

"Ethan..." Victoria’s voice cracked, barely audible above the storm outside. She lifted her pale face to look into his eyes. "Is there really no other way? After everything we've lived through?"

Ethan didn't even blink. "We agreed on this from the start, Victoria. You knew where my heart lay. Melanie is back now, and she is carrying my heir. I will not allow my child to be born out of wedlock."

His heir.

The words struck Victoria like a physical blow. She swallowed hard, a cold wave of nausea rising in her throat. She instinctively touched her own stomach beneath her oversized sweater. Just three hours ago, she had come back from the hospital with a secret of her own—a positive lab report confirming she was six weeks pregnant. She had come here tonight intending to surprise him.

Instead, she was being handed a death sentence to her marriage.

Melanie leaned closer to Ethan, resting her head on his shoulder, a tiny smirk darting across her face before she hid it behind a handkerchief. "Ethan has been more than generous, Victoria. He’s offering you a lump sum of five hundred thousand dollars and a modest apartment in the suburban district. It’s more than a woman of your background could ever hope for."

"I don't want your money," Victoria said softly.

She picked up the pen. Her hands shook violently, but as she looked at Ethan’s cold, unfeeling expression, something inside her snapped. The weak, dutiful wife who lived only to please him died right there on that couch.

"Sign the second page as well," Ethan added coldly. "It includes a complete non-disclosure agreement. You are to cut all ties with the Vance family immediately. You leave tonight."

"Tonight?" Victoria blinked. "It’s pouring outside, Ethan. The roads in the residential district are flooded—"

"My driver will escort you to the gate," Ethan interrupted, looking down at his Patek Philippe watch as if her presence was merely an inconvenience burning through his valuable time. "Melanie needs to settle into the penthouse tonight. Her pregnancy is delicate."

Victoria let out a bitter, silent laugh. She lowered the pen to the paper. With sharp, decisive strokes, she scrawled her signature across the bottom lines.

Victoria Sterling.

She tossed the pen down onto the table. It rolled and hit Ethan’s crystal whiskey glass with a sharp clink.

"I signed," she said, her voice suddenly dropping its tremble, replaced by an eerie, icy calm. "Keep your five hundred thousand dollars. Keep your suburban apartment. I am leaving this house with exactly what I brought into it: nothing."

Ethan frowned slightly, his dark brows furrowing for a brief second at her sudden shift in demeanor. He was used to her weeping, pleading, or bending to his every command. This cold detachment was unfamiliar.

"Don't play the martyr, Victoria," Ethan growled softly. "Take the money. I don't owe you any debts, and I won't have the press saying I left my ex-wife destitute."

"You don't owe me, and I don't owe you," Victoria replied, standing up straight. She pulled her coat around herself, turning her back on the two of them. "From this moment on, Ethan Vance, you and I are complete strangers."

Without waiting for another word, she walked toward the massive wooden double doors of the penthouse.

"Victoria!" Ethan’s voice boomed behind her, a hint of unexpected irritation bleeding through his calm exterior.

She didn't stop. She pushed open the doors and stepped out into the private elevator hall. As the golden doors began to slide shut, she caught one final glimpse of her husband—the man she had loved to the point of self-destruction.

Out on the rain-drenched street, the wind whipped her hair across her face. Thunder cracked across the night sky. She clutched her handbag tightly to her chest, her shoes soaking in the cold puddles.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers numb from the cold. She dialed a private 12-digit international number she hadn't touched in over two years—the number she swore she would never call unless she was at her absolute breaking point.

The line rang twice before a deep, authoritative voice answered on the third ring.

"Young Lady? Is that truly you?"

Tears finally overflowed from Victoria’s eyes, mixing with the ice-cold rainwater on her cheeks. But her jaw remained set in pure steel.

"Grandfather," Victoria whispered, her voice echoing with newfound authority. "Send the private jet to the city. I’m coming home... and I'm ready to inherit the Sterling Group."

"It's about time," the grand voice replied softly. "And what of the Vance family?"

Victoria looked up at the glowing logo of the Vance Tower soaring into the stormy sky above her.

"Let them enjoy their victory tonight," Victoria said, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "Because when I return, I will tear the Vance empire down brick by brick."

Five minutes later, as Victoria’s black town car sped away into the storm, a black limousine pulled up near the curb. A shadowy figure inside slammed a tablet down.

On the screen was a stolen medical document from the city hospital—Victoria’s file from earlier that morning.

The headline on the screen read: ULTRASOUND CONFIRMED: HIGH-DEGREE MULTIPLE GESTATION (TWINS).