Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife

Alek pulled his gaze away from the door. He shut his encrypted laptop. He walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out an older, slightly worn suit.

He put it on but left the tie off. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He looked in the mirror and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up to look stressed and defeated.

He walked out of the study. As he passed the master bedroom, he stomped his feet slightly to make sure she heard him.

"I'm going to see the bankruptcy lawyers," he called out.

Emma looked up from her screen. She saw his messy hair and tired posture. A pang of sympathy hit her chest.

"Be careful out there," she said softly.

Alek's jaw tightened. He looked away quickly, muttered a response, and walked out the front door.

He took the elevator down. He didn't walk toward the subway. Instead, he turned down a blind alleyway. A black, bulletproof SUV was idling in the shadows. He climbed into the back seat.

Dale handed him a tablet. The screen displayed Emma's live web browsing history.

"She's selling her bags on secondhand sites," Dale said, sounding confused. "And she's looking for freelance writing gigs."

Alek swiped down the screen. His finger stopped on the most recent activity. She had just added Sterling Astor-Vance's email to her block list.

Alek's eyes flickered. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. She was actually cutting ties.

"Sterling has been running his mouth at the clubs about your bankruptcy," Dale warned. "Want me to handle him?"

Alek raised a hand. "Let the clown perform a little longer. Focus all resources on the Somnium VR underground tests."

The heavy SUV pulled out of the alley and headed toward the Nevada transit hub.

Back in the apartment, Emma finished submitting her resume. She stretched her arms over her head. Her back popped.

Her throat felt dry. She went to the kitchen, but the milk was gone. She decided to go downstairs for a coffee.

She threw on a cheap white sweater and a pair of jeans. She tied her hair into a messy bun and grabbed her keys.

The elevator took her down to the lobby. She walked across the marble floor and pushed through the revolving glass doors.

A loud, obnoxious engine roar echoed off the buildings. Pedestrians turned to look.

A bright red Porsche 911 parked illegally right in front of the building. The door swung open. A man in a custom-tailored suit stepped out.

Emma squinted against the wind. She recognized the blonde hair and arrogant face. It was Sterling.

Sterling pulled off his sunglasses. He looked at Emma's plain sweater. Fake pity washed over his face.

He walked toward her with his arms wide open. "Oh, my poor Emma."

Emma's stomach turned. She took a quick step to the side. Sterling's arms grasped empty air.

He dropped his arms, looking awkward. He looked her up and down and clicked his tongue. "Alek actually lets you walk around looking like this?"

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were cold. "What do you want?"

Sterling stepped closer. He lowered his voice. "I know Alek is finished. Divorce him. I'll rent you a place on the Upper East Side today."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His thumb rubbed against her skin. "We can go back to how things were."

Emma yanked her arm back with violent force. Her skin burned where he had touched her. Her wrist turned red.

She took a large step back to create distance. "Show some respect. I am a married woman."

Sterling's face hardened. His ego was bruised. He let out a nasty laugh. "Don't play the saint with me. Alek is worse than a beggar right now."