I paid off my husband’s $150,000 debt—or at least that was what he believed. The next morning, I came downstairs and found his parents stuffing my belongings into trash bags. In my own kitchen, wearing my expensive silk robe, stood his mistress. “You’re useless to me now,” he smirked, sh0ving divorce papers toward me. “Get out. She’s moving in.” I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I simply looked at his mistress and whispered, “First of all, take off my robe. Second...” Five minutes later, his mistress couldn’t stop screaming...

Jameson’s parents scrambled to grab their coats, muttering bitter curses under their breath as security escorted them down the driveway toward their sedan.

Jameson remained frozen in the foyer, staring at the sheriff deputies holding his car keys.

"Those are the keys to my Porsche!" Jameson yelled. "You can't take my car!"

"The Porsche is titled under Vanguard Design Studio, which is currently subject to an emergency asset freeze by Aegis Capital," Marcus Vance stated, handing the keys to a flatbed tow truck driver waiting in the cul-de-sac.

The loud pneumatic hiss of the tow truck lowering its bed echoed through the morning mist. Within three minutes, Jameson’s pristine sports car was winched onto the ramp, ready for repossession.

"Ruby... please," Jameson pleaded, dropping his arrogant posture entirely. He fell to his knees on the marble tile, reaching out to grasp my hand. "We can talk about this! I was stressed! Brooke manipulated me! She told me you didn't respect my creative vision! I love you, Ruby! We're husband and wife!"

I stepped back, letting his hands fall empty onto the cold floor.

"You called me useless five minutes ago, Jameson," I said softly. "You thought you had bled me dry and discarded me like an old tool. But you forgot one thing: I built my empire before I met you, and I can destroy yours in a single morning."