Chapter 6

Jonathan and Drew had only met Ellie once—on Derek's wedding day.

To be fair, she was a stunning woman. Even after all these years, they recognized her instantly.

As Derek's inner circle, they shared one unwavering opinion: they despised her.

Jonathan's voice dripped with mockery. "Well, well, Derek. Looks like the warden's doing a spot check. Your wife tracked you down."

Derek let out a derisive snort. "Her? She doesn't have the nerve."

His derisive words, paired with Lisa's radiant, triumphant smile and Jonathan and Drew's sneers, cut deep into Ellie's heart.

"Sorry. Wrong room." She closed the door and left without another word.

Her composure caught Jonathan and Drew off guard.

"Odd," Drew remarked. "Most women would've caused a scene. She didn't seem to care at all. Maybe she's finally over you, Derek?"

Jonathan laughed. "Impossible. She's crazy about him—probably terrified of being thrown out, so she doesn't dare make a scene."

Outside, Ellie took a deep breath. She forced herself to stay calm, to not let their words sink in.

"Hey, gorgeous! There you are." The handsome escort from her booth appeared, flashing a charming smile.

"Heather sent me to find you." He slipped a casual arm around her waist. "Let's not keep the party waiting."

Ellie stiffened momentarily but didn't shake him off.

Through the glass door, Jonathan caught a glimpse of Ellie walking off with the escort, their postures intimate, and couldn't help blurting out, "Holy shit, Derek! Your wife's moving up in the world—she's with a male escort!"

Drew's eyebrows shot up. "So she really was in the wrong room. She wasn't here for you at all."

Derek's face darkened instantly.

Ellie. How dare she?

She still carried the Housten name, and here she was, cavorting with paid escorts, making a mockery of his reputation.

When Ellie returned to her private room, Heather was already tipsy.

"Ellie, where have you been? Took you long enough."

"Wrong room," Ellie said simply, not mentioning her run-in with Derek.

Heather grinned. "Let's play a game. Pass the card with your mouth—whoever drops it drinks!"

Ellie frowned. The game sounded ridiculous.

But Heather pulled her down onto the sofa. "Come on, don't kill the mood."

Reluctantly, Ellie joined in.

The handsome escort leaned in with a playing card between his lips. The closeness of a strange man made her instinctively turn away. After a few failed attempts, she ended up downing several shots as punishment.

Finally, on the last round, she forced herself to stay still, closed her eyes, and accepted the card.

Unbeknownst to them, Jonathan was filming the entire scene through the glass, a malicious grin on his face.

Always eager for drama, he couldn't wait to show Derek the footage.

"Look at this, Derek! Your wife sure knows how to have a good time! You're never around. Do you think she's cheating on you with some guy?"

On the screen, Ellie and the escort were leaning in, their lips perilously close.

A cold, possessive fury ignited in Derek's chest. He might despise her, but no one else was allowed to touch what was legally his.

"Derek," Lisa purred, "she's probably just doing this to get a reaction from you."

"Exactly!" Jonathan chimed in. "She trapped you once; this is just another one of her manipulative games."

Without a word, Derek drained his glass and summoned the manager. Within minutes, the escort was fired.

She was still his wife. That meant she was off-limits.

…

Later that night, Ellie took the heavily intoxicated Heather back to her apartment.

Meanwhile, back at the Bayshore Villa, Derek stormed into the master bedroom.

He flipped the light switch. The bed was perfectly made, empty.

She wasn't there.

Hearing the commotion, Mary hurried upstairs. "Young Master, you're back."

"Where is she?"

"Madam didn't come home tonight."

Derek's brow furrowed.

Did she… check into a hotel with that escort?

"Madam hasn't been staying here for quite some time," Mary added, pulling an envelope from her apron. "She asked me to give you this."

He took it.

It was a divorce agreement. Her neat, elegant signature was at the bottom.

Derek let out a cold, disbelieving laugh.

He'd offered her a divorce countless times, always with a generous settlement. She had always refused, clinging to the marriage. And now she was the one presenting him with papers?

Was this a new tactic? A calculated retreat to force his hand?

Without a second thought, he scrawled his own signature beside hers. Divorce was what he'd always wanted.

…

The next morning, Ellie made breakfast—sandwiches, hot milk, pan-seared salmon, and a touch of salad for color.

Heather emerged from the bedroom, groaning and clutching her throbbing head.

"You're up? Eat something."

Heather savored the delicious food, studying Ellie—the delicate features, the flawless skin, the quiet grace. Even without makeup, Ellie was radiant.

She sighed. Such a beautiful, gentle woman… It was a tragedy that a man like Derek had been too blind to see it.

After breakfast, Ellie's phone rang.

"Miss Winbury?"

"Yes, speaking."

"This is Ben Ulrich, Derek Housten's lawyer. I'm calling regarding the divorce. Mr. Housten has reviewed the agreement. He is prepared to offer a substantial financial settlement or, if you prefer, the title to the Bayshore Villa."

It was only that morning that Derek had actually read the terms. She was asking for nothing. She was walking away empty-handed.

He wasn't a stingy man. After four years of marriage, she was entitled to millions.

"No, thank you," Ellie said, her voice calm and firm. "The terms stand. I don't want anything from him."

"And when would you like to schedule the formal dissolution?" the lawyer asked, stunned by her refusal.

"I'll coordinate with Mr. Housten and confirm a date."

When she hung up, Heather stared at her in disbelief. "Ellie, are you insane? Take the money! You earned that money putting up with him!"

Ellie simply shook her head. "As long as the divorce is finalized, nothing else matters."

She hadn't married him for his fortune. To demand a payout now would only confirm everyone's belief that she was a gold digger. Her freedom was the only prize she wanted.

…

At the Housten Group headquarters, the lawyer relayed Ellie's words.

"Sir, Miss Winbury was quite clear. She declines any settlement and wishes to proceed with the divorce as quickly as possible."

Derek was silent.

She was serious. She was genuinely willing to walk away from a billion-dollar fortune without a single cent.

"Fine," he said finally. "As she wishes. I'm flying to Bounvia this afternoon. Schedule the appointment for next Wednesday."