Chapter 4: Kneel Before The Real Boss

"One billion going once! One billion going twice! Sold to CEO Phyna Lillard of the Lillard Dynasty!"

The auctioneer's wooden gavel banged down hard on the podium. The sharp sound echoed through the silent auditorium like a thunderclap.

Reporters scrambled over chairs, pointing massive cameras and microphones straight at my face. The entire hall erupted into chaotic shouts. Billionaires who had previously turned their backs on me now scrambled forward, bowing their heads, desperate to hand me their business cards.

"Congratulations, CEO Lillard!"

"The Lillard family has returned! A true masterstroke!"

Wilson Cross stood frozen in the middle of the aisle. His expensive suit was wrinkled from sweat, his hair messy, and his skin pale as ash. His eyes stared blankly at his shattered phone on the floor. The frantic screams of his company's accountant still seemed to buzz in his ears: *Accounts frozen! Four hundred million due immediately! Cargo seized!*

Chloe Adams shook his arm violently, tears of panic ruining her heavy makeup.

"Wilson! Say something!" Chloe shrieked, her voice high and piercing. "Tell them it's a lie! Tell them this cheap orphan stole that paddle! She has no money! Tell the bank to release your funds! What about my diamond jewelry? What about the penthouse you promised to buy me today?"

"Shut up!" Wilson roared, violently shoving Chloe away.

Chloe gasped, tumbling backward into an empty velvet chair, clutching her bruised wrist in disbelief. Wilson didn't even look at her. His bloodshot eyes locked onto me as I walked toward the main exit with Alexander Sterling beside me.

"Phyna! Stop right there!" Wilson shouted, lunging forward like a rabid animal.

Two giant security guards stepped into his path, their muscular arms crossing like iron gates. Wilson crashed against them, breathing heavily, veins popping along his neck.

"Move out of my way! That woman is my wife!" Wilson yelled, spitting in pure desperation. "Phyna! Look at me! What kind of sick game are you playing? What is this Lillard nonsense? You are Phyna Cross! You belong to me!"

I stopped. I turned around slowly, my dark blue suit gleaming under the blinding spotlights. The crowd stepped back, forming a wide circle around us. Nobody dared to interrupt.

"Your wife?" I asked, my voice ringing clear, cold, and razor-sharp across the room. "Did you lose your memory overnight, Wilson? Or did the scent of cheap perfume rot your brain?"

I reached into my designer clutch, pulled out the duplicate copy of the divorce agreement, and held it high for every camera to capture.

"Last night at eight o'clock, you threw this document in my face. You called me a penniless parasite. You told me I had no family, no background, and no right to breathe the same air as you. You kicked me out into the dark so your mistress could sleep in my bed. Did you forget your own cruel words so quickly?"

The journalists gasped, their pens scribbling furiously. Flashes lit up Wilson's guilty, terrified face.

"No... no, Phyna, you don't understand!" Wilson stammered, his arrogant pride crumbling into dust right before the eyes of his business peers. "That was just an argument! A misunderstanding between husband and wife! We were together for five whole years! You loved me! You cooked for me every single day! You can't just ruin my company over a small domestic fight!"

"A domestic fight?" A low, dangerous voice interrupted him.

Alexander Sterling stepped out from behind me. He casually adjusted the cufflinks on his wrists, looking down at Wilson with utter disgust.

"Wilson Cross," Alexander said, each word dropping like lead. "You dare speak of love? When your father died five years ago, your company had two million dollars in debt and zero contracts. You thought your sudden luck was heaven smiling on your pathetic face? Every single contract you signed had the Lillard seal hidden behind the broker. Every bank loan that saved your skin was signed by Phyna's personal guarantee."

The crowd murmured in shock. Wilson’s eyes widened so wide the capillaries ruptured with blood.

"What... what did you say?" Wilson choked out, his knees trembling violently.

"You heard him clearly," I said, stepping closer until I stood just inches from Wilson's sweating face. "Imperial Trust is my family's private bank. The shipping fleet that carried your goods belongs to the Lillard harbor authority. For five years, I carried you on my shoulders. I turned a useless beggar into a billionaire. But instead of gratitude, you bit the hand that fed you."

"Phyna, please!" Wilson cried out, entirely forgetting his status as a CEO. He reached out with shaking hands, trying to grab the hem of my jacket. "I was blind! Chloe tricked me! She told me she was sick! She told me she could bring foreign investors! I didn't know you were the Lillard heiress! If you told me who you were, I would have treated you like a goddess! I would have never let Chloe into the house!"

In the corner, Chloe shrieked in horror. "Wilson! How could you blame me? You told me you hated her plain face! You told me she was like a dead fish in bed!"

"Shut your filthy mouth, you gold-digging whore!" Wilson screamed back at Chloe, completely losing his mind. "If it wasn't for your poisoned words, my company wouldn't be collapsing right now! Get away from me!"

The entire room watched the ugly spectacle. The once-glamorous couple of Capital City was tearing each other apart like street rats fighting over garbage.

I looked down at Wilson, feeling only cold pity.

"You would have treated me like a goddess only if you knew I had money?" I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "That proves you never loved me, Wilson. You only love wealth. And that is why losing it will kill you slowly."

"Phyna, no! Give me one more chance!" Wilson fell hard onto his knees right on the red carpet. A billionaire CEO, kneeling in front of hundreds of people, sobbing like a child. "Call the bank! Tell them to release the four hundred million! If the loan is called in today, Cross Enterprises will go bankrupt by tomorrow morning! Everything I worked for will be gone! I am begging you, Phyna! For the sake of our five years, save me one last time!"

He reached out to touch my shoe, desperate to kiss the floor I walked on.

Before his fingers could touch my leather heel, Alexander’s heavy dress boot came down like an iron hammer, kicking Wilson's hands away.

"Don't touch what belongs to me," Alexander snarled, his eyes burning with lethal rage. "Your filthy hands aren't worthy of wiping her shadow off the pavement."

Alexander turned to the hotel security chief, his voice booming with absolute authority: "Throw this trash out into the alley. If he ever steps within a hundred yards of CEO Lillard again, break both his legs."

"Yes, Mr. Sterling!" six security guards rushed forward, grabbing Wilson by his collar and arms, dragging him backward across the polished floor.

"Phyna! Phyna! Don't do this to me!" Wilson screamed, kicking his legs, tears and snot running down his face as he was dragged toward the back exit. "You will regret this! You can't destroy me! I am Wilson Cross! I am a billionaire!"

His pathetic screams faded down the corridor until the heavy double doors slammed shut.

Chloe tried to sneak away through the crowd, pulling her shawl over her head, but two police officers in uniform stepped directly in front of her.

"Chloe Adams?" the lead officer asked, pulling out a set of steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for commercial fraud, corporate theft, and illegal transfer of classified assets from Cross Enterprises. Come with us."

Chloe's face turned white as paper. "No! That's not true! Wilson gave me that money! It's a mistake!"

The handcuffs snapped shut around her wrists with a sharp, cold click. She was marched out under the glare of flashing cameras, sobbing hysterically.

The auditorium fell quiet once more.

Alexander turned to me, his dark eyes softening into warm admiration. He offered his arm with effortless grace.

"Shall we leave, CEO Lillard? A celebration dinner awaits at the top of the Sterling Tower."

I smiled, placing my hand over his muscular arm. "Let's go. We have a lot of business to settle."

We walked out of the hotel lobby into the bright afternoon sun. A fleet of luxury black cars was waiting at the curb.

Just as I stepped toward the limousine, my private phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was an unknown number, but the voice memo came through instantly.

I tapped play.

A raspy, sinister voice whispered through the speaker:

"Enjoy your little victory, Phyna Lillard. You think Wilson was the only one who wanted you dead five years ago? Check the brake lines on your grandfather's car right now."

My blood ran cold.