Divorce my prentened poor Billionaire husband

"Stabbed in the gut? The untouchable Everest Kennedy actually took a hit?" Zeke Lee breathed, disbelieving.

Everest—always the picture of icy control—kept his jaw clamped tight, his face carved from stone.

"C’mon, who is this Annika chick, to make a billionaire playboy like Everest Kennedy go this far?" Zeke chuckled, but his laugh cut off dead when Annika’s phone went straight to voicemail.

Zeke dropped the playful act instantly. Everest got dumped? This mystery woman had to be something else. Any woman that grabbed Everest Kennedy’s attention was already a knockout, but if she’d walked away from him? She had to be ruthless—tougher than any guy he’d ever gone up against.

Zeke, who was used to having people falling all over him, knew heartbreak wasn’t something Everest did. He quickly fumbled for the right thing to say.

"Don’t sweat it, man. You’ll have a dozen women throwing themselves at you before the week’s out. Once she realizes what a catch she threw away? She’ll be sobbing into her pillow."

The temperature around Everest dropped ten degrees. His voice came out tight, frost-edged, one word biting into the air: "Leave."

Annika made it through the night without any pain meds. By dawn, her fever had broken, and against all odds, the baby was fine. Seeing how strong her little one was, she decided to let things unfold as they would.

Her phone buzzed. It was her best friend Rachel, calling.

"Annika, your phone was off forever—I was panicking! Are you okay? Is your husband helping you through this?" Rachel’s voice came, tight with worry.

Annika glanced around her tiny one-bedroom apartment. Everest’s shadow was still everywhere, every little thing twisting her heart up into knots. As they talked, she gathered his toothbrush, his coffee mug, all his shirts and underwear, stuffed them into an old duffel, and tossed the whole thing straight into the trash.

"Rachel, we broke up. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I want him completely gone from my life."

"What? You spent three years supporting that guy, and he dumps you? Annika, you need to add up every cent you spent on him all that time!" Rachel fumed.

"I did. I owe him half a million dollars."

"What? You wasted three years on him, and *you* owe *him* half a million? What a total scumbag!"

Rachel was on a work break, just calling to check in, and this dropped on her like a bomb. Annika had always kept her husband’s identity secret. Even Rachel, her ride-or-die best friend, only knew she had a man she adored, not what asshole broke her heart.

"Half a million is insane! Normal people don’t have that kind of money laying around. I could literally strangle that jerk. Did he dump you because he cheated?" Rachel’s anger burned hot through the phone; the betrayal stung her like it was her own.

Annika lifted her eyes from her phone, and her heart stopped dead.

Everest Kennedy was leaning in her doorway, all six and a half feet of him, casual and imposing, his ice-cold stare locked dead on her phone.

His deep dark eyes gave nothing away, but the intimidating aura rolling off him screamed don’t come near me.

Rachel fumbled to end the call immediately, already stammering out apologies.

"Mr. Kennedy, I… I didn’t mean to say all that. I’m so sorry."

No one knew why Everest had come back to this old building last night, but his presence had everyone walking on eggshells. Rachel had gotten so caught up raging at Annika’s ex that she’d forgotten herself, let her mouth run too loud.

"Heartless jerk?" Everest repeated. He didn’t even sound angry—there was a faint, amused quirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Sounds like someone worked herself to the bone for a deadbeat boyfriend, then got tossed aside, huh?"

Everest’s thoughts drifted to an evening a while back, when a waitress had muttered the exact same thing about a "worthless boyfriend," teeth clenched so hard they almost cracked.

He remembered her clear as day.

"Wait… Mr. Kennedy, you remember us?" Rachel’s surprise blew into full-blown shock.

Her anger flared right back up thinking about what Annika went through, and she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out.

"My friend wasted three whole years on a leech! She worked herself till she dropped, spent every last dime on him. She couldn’t even afford a five-dollar coffee for herself, but when he asked? She bought him imported cake, got him stupid expensive gifts. And then he had the nerve to cheat on her!"

"And she’s an amazing dancer! He held her back from chasing her dream this whole time!"

Everest’s brow twitched just barely. Rachel’s constant, high-pitched rant was damn irritating. Normally he would have shut her up ten sentences ago, but today? He was weirdly hooked on the story of that stubborn waitress and her useless boyfriend.

"She should be out chasing her dream, not wasting away with a freeloader. What a shameless creep."

Rachel stamped her foot in frustration. "That asshole got off way too easy. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Justice will win out, even if it takes time."

Right that second, Everest’s ear started itching. Like someone somewhere was talking about him.

Just then, Mario walked over.

"Mr. Kennedy, did you sleep well last night?"

Mario asked because he’d noticed Everest had been coming to this old building more and more often—from once or twice a week, to almost every single night now.

Last night, Everest had shown up alone.

Mario wondered if maybe Mr. Kennedy had found some comfort here, with his wife and child, that helped him sleep better.

But the dark circles under Everest’s eyes told a different story.

"Mr. Kennedy, would you like me to call Dr. Marshall to prescribe something to help you sleep?"

A flicker of discomfort crossed over Everest’s sharp, chiseled features.

"The world doesn’t stop turning just because one person’s gone. It’s not an issue."

He turned to Mario, then jerked his chin toward Rachel.

"Give your friend’s number to my assistant. If she needs money and she can dance, we’ve got a spot for her at the rooftop venue. Pay’s way better than waiting tables."

"The rooftop?" Rachel knew exactly what that place was—it was for the elite, the exclusive playground for rich and powerful men, something even wealthy heirs couldn’t just get into. It was all glitz and excess, a world away from anything she’d ever known.

Straight shooter that she was, Rachel held up her hands and shook her head.

"Thanks, Mr. Kennedy, but my friend wouldn’t lower herself to that. If she wanted fame, she would’ve gone into Hollywood years ago. When a famous director tried to take advantage of her? She smashed a bottle over his head. That’s why she’s waiting tables now."

Mario thought Rachel was out of her mind, turning down an offer from Everest Kennedy. Not just anyone gets to dance on that rooftop. Why was Everest even giving this random waitress a shot?

Seeing Everest didn’t look annoyed, Mario patiently explained to Rachel: "The rooftop hires professional dancers, you get paid for your talent. Lead dancers pull in thousands a show."

"Thousands? Per performance?" Rachel’s eyes went wide.

Damn. Poverty really does shrink your world. Standing on her feet all day serving tables barely got her a few hundred. And people make thousands just for dancing?

"My friend really is incredible. I’ve been working part-time waiting tables just to help us get by, that dance job would be perfect, it’s such a waste for her to rot here. If she gets on that rooftop stage and shows everyone what she’s got? Who knows, she’ll catch the eye of someone important, and that deadbeat ex will be green with envy."

Rachel got it instantly, and practically shoved Annika’s number into Mario’s hand.

"Please, Mr. Wallace, help my friend get that spot in the rooftop dance troupe. Thank you so much—seriously."