Page 8 of King of Greed

But the evidence was there, and it sent a fresh, crippling wave of pain through my chest.

If only he cared that much all the time. If only it didn’t take me leaving to unbury a piece of the person I’d fallen in love with.

“When did you get home?” I asked quietly.

Dull red tinged his cheekbones. “Eight thirty.”

Two and a half hours after our scheduled departure time. I wondered whether he’d forgotten about our anniversary or whether he remembered but ignored it anyway. I couldn’t decide which was worse, but it didn’t matter. The end result was the same.

“I didn’t mean to miss the flight,” Dominic said. “There was a work emergency. Ask Caroline. The SEC— ”

“That’s the thing.” My earlier concern melted away, replaced with a familiar exhaustion. Not the type that followed a sleepless night, but the type built over years of hearing the same excuse. “There’salwaysa work emergency. If it’s not the SEC, it’s the stock market. If it’s not the stock market, it’s some corporate scandal. No matter what it is, it always comes first. Before me. Beforeus.”

Dominic’s jaw tightened. “I can’t ignore those things,” he said. “People depend on me.Billionsof dollars ride on my decisions. My employees and investors— ”

“What about me? Do I not count as people?”

“Of course you do.” He sounded baffled.

“And when I was depending on you to show up like you promised?” Emotion clogged my throat. “Was that less important than a multibillion-dollar corporation that’ll probably be just fine if you tookoneweekend off?”

Tense silence mushroomed and nearly choked us until he spoke again.

“Do you remember our senior year of college?” Dominic’s gaze burned into mine. “We barely saw each other outside of school because I had to work three jobs just to cover basic living expenses. We ate fucking instant ramen on our dates because I couldn’t afford to take you out to nice restaurants. It was miserable, and I promised myself that if I ever made it out, I would never be in that situation again.Wewouldn’t be in that situation again. And we haven’t.”

He gestured between us. “Look at us. We have everything we’ve ever dreamed of, but the only way tokeepit is to do my job. The penthouse, the clothes, the jewelry. All of it goes away if— ”

“What good is any of that if I neverseeyou?” My frustration bubbled over to its tipping point. “I don’tcareabout the fancy penthouse or clothes or jet. I would rather have a husband. A real one, not one just in name.”

Maybe I didn’t understand because I came from a well-off family and therefore could never fully empathize with the obstacles Dominic had to overcome to get to where he was. Maybe I was too out of the loop to understand the stakes of the Wall Street game. But I knew myself, and I knew that I’d been a thousand times happier eating ramen with him in his dorm room than I’d ever been attending some fancy gala draped in jewels and a fake smile.

Dominic’s eyes darkened. “It’s not that simple. I don’t have a rich family to fall back on if things go to shit, Ále,” he said harshly. “Everythingis on me.”

“Maybe, but you’re Dominic Davenport. You’re abillionaire! You can afford a weekend off. Hell, you could retire this minute and still have enough money to live in luxury for the rest of your life!”

He didn’t get it. I could tell by the stubborn look in his eyes.

The fight bled out of me, and my exhaustion returned tenfold. My voice dropped to a whisper. “It was our ten-year anniversary.”

Dominic’s throat flexed with a hard swallow. “We can leavenow,” he said. “We have almost two full days left. We can still celebrate our anniversary like we’d intended.”

No matter how much I tried to explain, he didn’t getwhyI was upset. It wasn’t about physical, tangible things like flights and dinner reservations. It was about a fundamental disconnect in our values and what we deemed important for a good relationship. I believed in quality time and conversation; he believed money could fix everything.

He’d always been ambitious, but I used to think he would hit a point when he’d be content with what he had. I realized now that point didn’t exist. He would never have enough. The more he acquired—money, status, power—the more he wanted at the expense of everything else.

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

I hadn’t known what my plan was when I woke up that morning, but it was now crystal clear.

Even if it killed me, even if the easiest thing was to fall into his arms and sink into the memory of what we used to be, I had to go through with it. I was already a shell of myself. If I didn’t get out while I could, I’d dissolve into dust, nothing more than a collection of lost time and unrealized dreams.

The stubborn gleam in Dominic’s eyes faded, replaced with confusion. “Then come home with me. We’ll talk it out.”

I shook my head again, trying to breathe through the needles stabbing at my heart. “I’m not coming back.”

He stilled. Confusion melted into realization, then disbelief. “Ále— ”

“I want a divorce.”

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