Chapter 4Her Grand Show, My Blaze

I didn't go back to the house we shared.

Justin drove me to my private penthouse in Riverview, owned by the Ashford Group.

No one had lived here for three years, but a cleaning service maintained it weekly. The mahogany floors were polished to a mirror shine.

After a hot shower, I walked into the living room, where Justin had already laid out a file on the coffee table.

"Jack, I ran the background check you wanted on Tristan."

His expression was deeply unsettled.

"You might want to sit down for this."

I picked up the file and flipped it open.

Page one: Tristan’s resume. Flawless, with a master's degree from a prestigious European university.

Page two: Family background. His mother was Ava’s high school classmate; the two families had been close for decades.

Page three.

My fingers froze.

Tristan and Ava had been legally married three years ago.

They had divorced exactly one month before Ava and I were set up on our blind date.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice dropping to a dangerous chill.

"Absolutely," Justin said quietly. "I pulled the records directly from the city archives myself."

"Also, that luxury riverfront condo Ava bought two years ago? The deed is in her name, but Tristan has been living there the entire time. Ava pays for everything; utility bills, HOA fees, even Tristan’s personal training sessions."

I closed my eyes.

Three years.

Every time she claimed she was working late, every business trip, every client dinner.

It turned out that every single time she said she wasn't coming home, she was with her ex-husband.

And while I was lying in a hospital bed with acute internal bleeding, she was throwing him a three point eight million dollar firework show.

Me, the heir of the massive Ashford Group, spent three years playing the doting, domestic husband, only to be a placeholder for her ex-husband's transition period.

A dry, mocking laugh escaped me, triggering another spasm in my stomach.

What a joke.

My phone vibrated.

An unknown number. It was a screenshot of a wire transfer: fifty thousand dollars.

A message followed.

"Mr. Ashford, Ava asked me to send you this. She said you worked hard these past three years, and this fifty thousand should help you get by. Please don't harass her anymore, and don't try to interfere with the company."

Sender: Tristan.

A second message popped up almost immediately.

"Let me be frank with you, Mr. Ashford. Ava looked into the funding of those contracts. They came from the Ashford Group."

"She doesn’t know what low-level job you have there; running errands or pouring coffee, but you’d better know your place."

"The real owners of a conglomerate like Ashford could crush you with a single finger."

"You used your position to embezzle Ashford funds to get back at Ava. If this gets out, you’ll be the first one they throw under the bus."

"Out of pity for your time together, Ava gave you fifty thousand dollars to run. She expects you to be smart, show up at the courthouse tomorrow to sign the papers, and leave quietly."

"As for your threat to fire me today? Ava told me to tell you: an outsider trying to play these petty games is just pathetic."

I stared at the screen, completely dumbfounded for three seconds.

Then, a loud laugh burst from my chest, causing my stomach to ache all over again.

So, in Ava's mind, the mysterious investor behind her success couldn't possibly be me.

She had traced the funds to the Ashford Group and assumed I was just some low-level employee who had embezzled company money to make his wife look good.

A useless husband trying to play savior.

And she had generously had her little lover send me fifty thousand dollars as a pittance to skip town.

I typed back two simple words.

"Sounds good."

I tossed the phone onto the sofa and walked into the study.

I spun the dial on the safe, and the heavy door clicked open.

Inside lay a single document: the true ownership structure of Aura Financial, controlled by the Ashford Group.

Fifty-one percent of Aura Financial’s shares, held through seven layers of offshore companies, ultimately belonged to one name.

Jack Ashford.

Which meant that the CEO seat Ava had occupied for three years belonged to me. The entire company belonged to me.

And that three point eight million dollar firework show was paid for with my money, thrown for her ex-husband.

I picked up the file, a slow smile spreading across my face.

Ava, you want me to sign the divorce papers tomorrow?

Fine, I’ll show up.

But the man signing those papers won't be your penniless, useless husband.

It will be the actual owner of Aura Financial.