Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable

Jaret stared at the diamond ring. His hands shook violently as he reached out and picked up the divorce agreement.

He saw her signature. The ink was dark and permanent. A muscle in his jaw twitched uncontrollably.

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Then it vibrated again. And again.

Jaret ripped the phone out of his pocket. Three push notifications from American Express lit up the screen.

Charge Approved: Bergdorf Goodman. $4,500.

Charge Approved: Bergdorf Goodman. $1,200.

Charge Approved: Bergdorf Goodman. $850.

The charges were from just a few hours ago. The panic in his chest instantly boiled over into a blinding, feral rage.

He ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. He slammed the divorce papers back onto the desk, scattering the pages across the wood.

He hit Eleonora's name in his contacts and held the phone to his ear. The ringing sound made him pace the floor like a caged animal.

Inside the Plaza suite, Eleonora sat on the sofa, admiring the sharp lines of her new stilettos.

Her phone lit up on the marble coffee table. Jaret.

Her smile vanished. Her face turned to stone.

She took a slow, steady breath. She tapped the speaker button and left the phone sitting on the marble.

"What the hell is wrong with you? !" Jaret's roar blasted through the speaker, filling the quiet room.

He didn't stop to breathe. "You think maxing out my cards is going to make me beg? You think this cheap stunt works on me?"

Eleonora sat perfectly still. Her heart rate didn't elevate by a single beat.

When he finally stopped to take a breath, she spoke. Her voice was flat, like she was reading a grocery list. "Look at the papers on the desk, Jaret."

Jaret let out a cruel, mocking laugh. "You think you can just walk out? You're swiping my card to survive right now. You are nothing without me."

"Those charges," Eleonora said smoothly, "are my severance pay for seven years of being your unpaid maid and event planner."

The word 'maid' hit Jaret's ego like a sledgehammer. "I gave you everything! You lived like a queen!" he screamed.

"Sign the papers, Jaret. Don't waste my time," she cut him off, her tone dropping to absolute zero.

Jaret's breathing grew ragged. He refused to believe this was real.

"You listen to me," Jaret commanded, his voice dripping with toxic authority. "You get your ass back to this apartment tonight, or I cut off every single card with your name on it."

Eleonora let out a soft, breathy chuckle. It was a sound of pure pity.

"I already cut the card in half," she said calmly. "The rest of the legal filings will be couriered to your office tomorrow."

Before Jaret could form another word, Eleonora hit the red button.

The call disconnected.

Jaret stared at the black screen of his phone. The dial tone buzzed in his ear.

A violent surge of helplessness ripped through him. He lost his mind.

He pulled his arm back and hurled the thousand-dollar phone straight at the floor-to-ceiling window.

The phone smashed against the bulletproof glass, leaving a white scuff mark before shattering into dozens of pieces on the hardwood floor.

Jaret gripped the edges of the oak desk, his chest heaving. He stared at the diamond ring with bloodshot eyes.

"I will never let you win," he whispered to the empty room. "You'll come begging."