Chapter 7

chapter7

Timothy had never planned on a life with Mia. But since the marriage was a reality, he had been willing to overlook her humble upbringing and lack of status—provided she stayed in her place. He had more than enough wealth to support her like a quiet pet in a gilded cage.

But lately, she had become a source of constant friction. Seeing her sign the divorce papers so decisively made him feel as if he had lost control of a game he wasn't even aware he was playing. Instead of relief, a heavy, dark frustration settled in his gut.

Maya, sensing the tension, decided to twist the knife. “Mia, did you sign those papers so quickly because you already found someone to replace Tim?”

Timothy’s gaze sharpened instantly. He watched Mia like a hawk, his eyes searching for any sign of guilt.

Mia saw the blatant mistrust on his face. The man she had served for three years didn't know her at all. “Yeah,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Of course. If the next man is an upgrade, why would I stay hung up on a cold-hearted ex?”

Fury flared in Timothy’s eyes. “Have you been cheating on me this whole time? Taking my money while seeing someone else?”

Mia looked at her clothes scattered in the dirt. “I’ll return every cent to you, then.” She had only packed the few items that weren't designer labels, leaving the branded bags and diamonds behind.

Timothy didn't even look at the pile. His voice was a low snarl. “I bought the clothes you’re wearing right now, too.”

“Fine. I’ll return those, as well.”

Maya’s eyes lit up with malicious glee. She sneakily pulled out her phone to record.

Mia stood her ground. If he wanted to humiliate her, she would show him she no longer had anything left to lose. She reached for the top button of her shirt and slowly undid it, revealing the pale curve of her collarbone.

Timothy’s pupils constricted. He hadn’t expected her to actually do it. Seeing her defiance, his expression turned murderous. “That’s enough! You are the most shameless woman I have ever met, Mia Bowen. Get the hell out of my sight. I never want to see your face again!”

He turned on his heel and stormed back into the villa, his silhouette a mask of icy rage.

Mia stopped, her fingers trembling. A trace of mockery flashed in her eyes. He was the one who told me to strip, and yet I'm the shameless one? Her palms were slick with cold sweat; she had been prepared to go all the way just to spite him.

Maya lowered her phone, looking disappointed that the show had ended so soon. “You might be cheap enough to strip in a driveway,” she hissed, “but don't expect any man of status to watch. You’re stripping for an audience of one—yourself. That’s the problem with your upbringing. You’ll always be a peasant. Stop dreaming of a world you don't belong in.”

Mia clutched her plastic bag and sniffled, trying to blink back the tears. In her darkest moments, she used to fantasize about a powerful family descending from the clouds to save her. But she knew that was a fairy tale. Real life was dirt, divorce, and insults.

Suddenly, a rhythmic thumping sound began to vibrate through the air. The wind picked up, whipping Mia’s hair across her face.

A black helicopter, sleek and imposing, descended from the sky, landing on the manicured grass of the courtyard.

The door slid open, and several tall, burly bodyguards in tailored black suits marched toward Mia. They moved with military precision, their presence radiating a level of power that made the Barrett villa look small.

Timothy, drawn back to the door by the noise, stood paralyzed in the entryway. He watched, stunned, as the line of men reached his "peasant" ex-wife.

The lead bodyguard bowed deeply, his voice booming with absolute respect.

“Ms. Bowen, we are here to take you home!”