The world fractured into a million blinding shards of light. Camera flashes exploded, turning the grand hall into a battlefield of strobe lights and shouting voices. The words hung in the air, sharp and lethal as shrapnel. "Ms. Avery, the car is ready." Not Mrs. Ethan. Not the maid. Ms. Avery. Christian stood, his legs trembling not from disuse but from the shockwave that had just ripped through his soul. He had orchestrated this moment, this grand reveal. He had risen from his wheelchair, an alpha billionaire reclaiming his throne, all to stop her from walking away. Yet, he was the one left paralyzed. Scarlett didn't even look at him. Her attention was on the phalanx of stone-faced men in tailored suits who now flanked her, their presence a silent, impenetrable wall. "Avery?" Chloe’s voice was a ragged shriek, tearing through the din. "That's impossible! She's a penniless orphan! A dirty maid! It’s a trick!" But no one was listening to her. All eyes were on the two figures at the center of the storm: the billionaire who could suddenly walk, and the maid who was suddenly someone else entirely. Christian took a step. Then another. The muscles he had kept hidden for three years burned with purpose. He cut through the chaos of reporters, his gaze locked on Scarlett’s back. He had to reach her. He had to touch her, to force her to see the regret tearing him apart. "Scarlett," he called out, his voice raw, desperate. It was the voice of a man drowning. She stopped. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then, she turned. Christian’s heart hammered against his ribs. He expected to see tears, the familiar pain in her eyes that he had put there, the pain he now desperately wanted to erase. He saw none of it. The woman who faced him was a stranger. Her spine was straight, her chin held high. The meek, submissive gaze he had lorded over for three years was gone, replaced by an arctic calm. Her eyes, once pools of wounded innocence, were now chips of ice. It was the cool, assessing stare of an empress looking down upon a court jester. A flicker of something—disappointment? Pity?—crossed her features before it vanished, replaced by a profound, chilling indifference. She looked straight through him. As if he were nothing. A ghost. She turned her back on him again and walked. Her pace was unhurried, regal. She walked right past him, so close he could smell the faint scent of jasmine that always clung to her, the scent he’d smelled on his pillows every morning. He reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of her cheap coat. "Wait," he choked out. The head of her security detail moved with serpentine speed, his hand gently but firmly blocking Christian’s path. "Do not touch Ms. Avery," the man said, his voice low and deadly. The humiliation was a physical blow. Christian Ethan, the ruthless alpha of the corporate world, swatted away like a fly. He watched, frozen, as she walked out of the grand doors of his mansion, leaving her old life—and him—in the dust. The karma was a bitter poison in his throat. He had thrown divorce papers at her face. He had called her worthless. And now, she had dismissed him with a single, silent glance. Outside, a fleet of gleaming black Maybachs purred at the curb, a stark contrast to the city bus Scarlett used to take. A guard opened the door to the lead vehicle. The reporters, finally snapping out of their stupor, swarmed Christian. "Mr. Ethan, you can walk! When did this happen?" "Was your paralysis a lie?" "Who is Ms. Avery? Is she the heir to the Avery Oil dynasty?" The questions were a meaningless roar. His world had narrowed to the sight of Scarlett sliding into the plush leather interior of the car. Chloe grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. "Christian, she's a liar! A spy! She planned this all along! The betrayal…" Christian ripped his arm from her grasp, his face a mask of cold fury. "Get away from me," he snarled, shoving her back. His gaze was fixed on the retreating car. He had made the biggest mistake of his life. He hadn't just lost a wife he never valued. He had lost the woman who secretly healed him, the woman who endured his cruelty without a word, and the one person whose absence now felt like a gaping wound in his chest. Scarlett settled into the back of the Maybach. The door closed with a heavy, satisfying thud, shutting out the world of chaos she had just left behind. A distinguished, silver-haired man sitting opposite her handed her a sleek, encrypted tablet. "Welcome back, Rosewood," he said, his voice warm with respect. She took the tablet, her fingers gliding over the cool screen. Her expression was unreadable, the mask of the empress firmly in place. "Status report, Marcus." "The board has unanimously approved the motion," Marcus replied, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Phase one of the Ethan Corp hostile takeover begins at dawn." Christian Ethan thought he was a king who had just regained his kingdom. He had no idea his empire was about to be burned to the ground by the woman he had thrown away.

Chapter 10: The Wheelchair Is Gone