Chapter 4
1551words
He sat in his vast corner office, the gleaming towers of Harbor City's financial district spread before him through floor-to-ceiling windows—the orderly flow of traffic below a stark contrast to his internal chaos.
But his ex-wife—or rather, this stranger named Olivia Woods—was like a phantom, a meticulously crafted illusion that had somehow managed to shatter thirty years of ironclad confidence and control.
"Alexander, instead of brooding like this, why not take action?" Sophia glided in with a perfectly brewed coffee, setting it on his desk with practiced elegance. "Right now, you look exactly like what you are—a man dumped by his ex-wife, drowning in self-pity."
Her words cut deep, laced with judgment and barely concealed derision. As his socially-approved future wife, she felt entitled to such brutal honesty.
Alexander kneaded his throbbing temples, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Proactive? I don't even know why she married me to begin with, let alone why she left." That nebulous explanation about "investigating a rival company" felt hollow—insufficient to explain the hurricane raging inside him.
"Then stop obsessing over why," Sophia's crimson lips curved into a calculating smile. "Focus on the now. She's CEO Woods of Flourish—the business world's newest darling. If you want her back, you need to speak her current language."
Alexander looked up, momentarily confused.
"Invest in her," Sophia said with casual ruthlessness. "Become her financial lifeline, her safety net. When she depends on your capital to survive, do you really think she won't come crawling back? For career-obsessed women like her, money is the most effective leash."
Alexander fell silent. Sophia's suggestion perfectly aligned with his lifelong approach to problems—using wealth and power to control outcomes. It offered a comforting illusion of regaining control, temporarily quieting that alien sensation called "regret."
That's right, he thought. He would make her understand that no matter how brightly she shined, she could never truly escape his reach.
However, when his investment proposal reached Olivia through Lawyer Quinn, her response consisted of just three devastating words.
"Is he worthy?"
Olivia sat in her bright, airy new office, not even glancing at the investment proposal that would have most startups salivating. Instead, she handed a document to the man seated across from her.
"Mr. Reed, thank you for making time. These are the documents for our Spring Bud Cosmetics acquisition. Would you mind reviewing them?"
The man across from her was Lucas Reed, Harbor City's most celebrated legal prodigy. Impeccably dressed in a tailored gray suit with gold-rimmed glasses, he projected scholarly refinement, though his eyes behind those lenses held a penetrating intelligence that missed nothing.
"Of course, Ms. Woods." Lucas took the documents, adjusted his glasses, and cast a knowing glance at the discarded Shaw Group proposal. "I see some people still haven't figured out how to approach you correctly."
His voice was smooth as aged whiskey, carrying a hint of playful intimacy that only Olivia would catch.
Olivia smiled and lifted her coffee: "Oh, he understands perfectly. He's just accustomed to throwing money at problems—including relationships. Unfortunately for him, money is the one thing I don't need."
Her offshore fund Echo had become the talk of Wall Street after outmaneuvering Obsidian Capital, with investors lining up to throw money at her. The Shaw Group's investment was pocket change by comparison.
"Then I suspect Mr. Shaw's pursuit will be quite the uphill battle," Lucas remarked casually while scanning the documents.
"That's hardly my problem," Olivia replied with the indifference of someone discussing a stranger's misfortune.
Their conversation flowed with professional ease and natural chemistry, punctuated by inside jokes and shared understanding. The harmony between them was so evident that passing employees couldn't help stealing glances. A brilliant man and a formidable woman, perfectly matched—the tableau was infinitely more appealing than her toxic dynamic with her ex-husband.
Alexander quickly encountered the "obstacles" Lucas had predicted.
He attempted to play the role of persistent suitor, trying to force his way back into Olivia's life. He arranged for Michelin-starred restaurants to deliver gourmet meals to her apartment daily, only to have them returned untouched with the curt message: "The resident has declined your delivery."
He sent the season's most exclusive jewelry and designer pieces to Flourish headquarters, only to discover them listed in a charity auction the following day, with "Flourish Group" credited as the generous donor.
He even stooped to waiting outside her office building with a bouquet of rare blue roses—something the thirty-eight-year-old Alexander Shaw had never done for anyone. He stood there awkwardly, like a teenager with his first crush. His reward? Watching Olivia slide into Lucas Reed's waiting Bentley without so much as a glance in his direction.
The tinted window rolled up, completely shutting out his frustrated, disbelieving stare.
In that moment, Alexander finally understood—he wasn't trying to reclaim a docile wife but pursuing a radiant, self-possessed woman who had never truly been his. And somehow, he'd lost all right to even try.
"Sir, should I call the car?" Nathan Quinn asked cautiously, watching his boss's uncharacteristically defeated posture.
Alexander didn't answer, his gaze locked on the vanishing taillights, knuckles white as his fists clenched with an audible crack.
Online sentiment had shifted dramatically from mocking the "discarded trophy wife."
[OMG what soap opera am I watching?? Ex-hubby trying to win back wifey but finding out there's a LINE of better men wrapped around the block!]
Headlines featured photos of Olivia and Lucas attending a prestigious legal gala. Olivia stunned in a black column gown that screamed quiet elegance, while Lucas placed his jacket around her shoulders with practiced ease. The way they looked at each other spoke volumes—mutual respect, intellectual connection, and the unspoken understanding that only exists between equals.
Days later, media outlets discovered that reclusive artist Ethan Chen had posted a new painting on his social media—a pine tree standing defiant against a storm, captioned simply: "My mentor." Eagle-eyed fans noticed the pine's silhouette perfectly matched the brooch Olivia had worn during a recent interview.
The legal world's golden boy and the art world's enfant terrible both orbited around this woman who was once dismissed as "invisible."
[I'm DYING! How did we ever think she wasn't good enough for Alexander Shaw? The man's mansion was too small to contain her greatness! We were all BLIND!]
[Seriously, how many secret identities does this woman have? Business prodigy, finance wizard, art world kingmaker… Is this real life or did someone's fantasy novel escape into our dimension?]
[Anyone else low-key feeling bad for the ex? His wife is too powerful, he simply can't keep up, hahaha!]
The online frenzy felt like a thousand knives twisting in Alexander's gut. Alone in the dark, he scrolled through endless mocking comments and photos of Olivia looking perfectly matched with other accomplished men. An unfamiliar emotion—jealousy—blazed through him like wildfire, incinerating his legendary self-control.
He snatched his keys and stormed out.
He had no plan, no strategy—just a primal need to end this torturous invisibility. He drove to Olivia's building like a desperate addict chasing one last hit, clinging to some irrational hope.
At midnight, Lucas's Bentley glided to a stop at the building entrance.
The driver's door opened first, and Lucas emerged to open the passenger door with practiced gallantry.
"Thanks for your help today," Olivia said as she stepped out, offering him a genuine smile. "The acquisition wouldn't have gone nearly as smoothly without you."
"Working with you is always my pleasure, Ms Woods." Lucas's voice carried a particular warmth in the night air. "Get some rest."
They said their goodbyes, and Olivia turned toward the entrance. Suddenly, a dark figure lunged from the shadows, seizing her wrist in a vice-like grip.
"Olivia!"
It was Alexander. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath heavy with expensive whiskey, gripping her with the desperate strength of a drowning man.
"What the hell do you want from me?" he growled, his voice raw with pain and fury. "Is humiliating me your new hobby? What kind of game are you playing?"
Olivia winced at his bruising grip, her expression darkening. She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his hold.
"Mr. Shaw, release me," her voice could have frozen flame. "Our relationship ended when the ink dried on those divorce papers."
"Ended?" Alexander laughed like she'd told the world's most absurd joke. He yanked her closer, his face inches from hers, whiskey-laced breath hot against her skin. "Nothing ends until I say it does! Don't forget, Olivia—you were mine!"
This scene froze Lucas in his tracks as he was about to enter his car. He removed his glasses deliberately and approached, his normally gentle eyes now glacial with controlled rage.
From the shadows across the street, several tiny red lights blinked—camera sensors activating in the darkness.
Paparazzi telephoto lenses captured every moment of the dramatic tableau—drunk ex-husband making a scene; poised current (rumored) boyfriend stepping in; successful businesswoman caught between them.
Tomorrow's headlines were already writing themselves.
Online, the saga of Olivia Woods—Harbor City's unexpected "winner at life"—was about to reach fever pitch.
