The Ex's Billionaire Boss

Chapter Two

Daphne’s POV

I can save this. Tonight is the Black Foundation Charity Ball, and I have been preparing for it for months now with fittings, rehearsals, and spotting of investors to send my husband's way. Here, I no longer have to keep quiet just to ensure my husband shines through.

I can finally prove to them that I belong in the Black family.

Nodding to myself, I moved to my side of the penthouse to start getting ready. It takes two hours to be done with bathing, waxing, makeup, hair, and shimmering into the stunning dress.

But the moment I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I know it was worth my time.

“Zayn?” I called when I stepped out of my room, heading towards it like the events of the day did not happen. It is the only way I can put on the best performance for the night. “Honey, hurry up! We’re going to be late.”

“She still calls you honey?”

A chuckle.

I stop outside the door when I hear that voice. Tatiana.

“Talk about desperation,” she continues, her laughter as light as a bird’s. “Do you think she actually read the contents of the document you handed over to her? You know your wife can be a little silly. Maybe she thought it was some property allocation or something.”

“Call her, my wife, one more time, and you will be out of here as well,” Zayn snaps, the fury evident in his tone.

"If you hated her that much, why did you wait until Charles practically almost threw you out of the board, too, before you did something about it?"

I can imagine him shrugging before I hear his voice again. “Pity,” he mutters. “She signed a prenup that makes her penniless the minute I walk out on her.”

Pity? That is all I am worth?

I try to ignore the pang in my chest and the tears stinging the corner of my eyes as I push the door open and stroll in, an automatic smile on my face. Tatiana is leaning on the wall in a silver dress that clings to her curves like a glove.

My eyes fell on the diamond necklace framing her neck. I wore it to the last gala of the Empire. Did Zayn give that to her?

“We’ll be late, Zayn,” I called out, ignoring everything Tatiana stands for and just hoping I get it through the night without her hurling something at me.

Zayn comes out of the closet in his tuxedo, his hands working at his tie. "You're not coming," he says sharply, without even glancing at me.

My stomach drops. “What? Zayn, if this is about…”

"Didn't you witness what happened at the board meeting today?" His eyes regarded me like I was just another stranger that he has to work with in his office, and not his wife, who had spent two hours trying to look good for him.

“The last thing the board wants to witness on a night like this is you strolling in through their doors. It does not matter if the divorce hasn’t been finalized. We can’t risk losing any more investors tonight.”

My heart breaks into a thousand pieces as I take a step towards him, reaching for his tie like I used to in the first year of our marriage. He hated doing it himself and would always come to find me.

But now, he retreats from me, like I am dirt he can’t risk messing with.

“Zayn, please,” I whispered, letting my hands drop to my side. “Just for tonight, let me fix this. I can….”

"He doesn't want you to," Tatiana murmurs with amusement in her tone. "You can be Cinderella somewhere else, honey, but not at a Black function."

Ignoring her and her taunts, I step closer to my husband, to the man I love with every part of me. I take his hands in mine, but he wiggles them out of reach, his eyes stern as he regards me.

“Daphne…”

“Just give me one more chance. "I’ll stay quiet, I’ll smile, I will even apologize to the whole board and Manhattan if you want." My knees hit the marble floor before I even became aware of it.

The cold stings my bones, and I shiver from the impact.

My palms are pressed together as I let the tears I have been holding at bay all day free. “Don’t ask me to leave, Zayne. You know I have nothing. I wouldn’t know where to go.”

“And how is that any of my business?” Despite his sharp words, I see a flicker of softened expression on his face. But it disappears immediately, so fast that I might as well have been imagining it.

“I am your wife!” I sob, my hands wrapped around his legs. “I have been faithful to you for the last three years.”

“You signed the prenup, Daphne. You knew what that meant, and you still signed it. What do you expect me to do now? Choose you over the firm?"

“You can’t understand the sense of duty that comes with being Black,” Tatiana purrs, coming around to put a hand around his shoulders. Unlike me, Zayn doesn’t even flinch. “And you never would, because you have never really been a Black.”

My eyes meet his shiny black shoes, made opaque by the torrents pouring down my face. I remember the day we got married, the vows we said to each other that are not being tossed aside.

I know Zayn still feels something for me, even though he doesn't act like it. But his loyalty to his father outweighs whatever love we have. Or rather, I think we have.

It always has.

"You should start packing," Tatiana says as she pulls Zayn along with her towards the door. "The driver will take you wherever you ask him to." She stops, then smiles sweetly. "Although I can't imagine where."

I wish she were wrong.

I stayed there on my knees, long after Zayn and Tatiana leave for the ball. My chest aches so much that it feels like I am going to die, and I double over from the pain, clutching hard onto it.

By the time I finally make it out of the penthouse, the rain starts falling, as if reminding me of the hell my life has become. It soaks through my dress, washing off my makeup and plastering my hair onto my skin.

I don't know where I am heading, but I keep moving, not seeing through the tears and rain.

Suddenly, the city shakes underneath my feet, and I slip, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

“Urghh!" A groan escapes my lips, but the heavens don't care as the rain keeps hitting me. My eyesight grows dim, threatening to pull me into a dark maze.

The last thing I see before the darkness finally gets a strong hold is a pair of piercing dark eyes and the feel of firm arms lifting me gingerly from the ground.