Divorcing My Billionaire Husband

During the board meeting, the CEO cleared his throat. Audrey and I reached out at the exact same time, sliding our glasses across the mahogany table. Mine was a plain glass of room-temperature water. Hers was an iced San Pellegrino. Harrison barely lifted his gaze. Without a second thought, his fingers brushed Audrey’s, taking the sparkling water from her hand and taking a long sip. From the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus, the HR Director, staring at the lingering, intimate brush of their hands. He looked deeply troubled. The moment the meeting adjourned, Marcus called me into his office. "Harrison and Audrey dated for eight years in college and their twenties. You saw them in there. The chemistry is... obvious. There’s a very real chance they’re getting back together," Marcus said, his voice low, filled with uncomfortable pity. "The relocation to the Austin office is technically a promotion, but it’s fifteen hundred miles away. We can't afford to offend the CEO, Summer. So, the one who has to be transferred... is you." I swallowed the sharp, acidic lump in my throat and simply said, "Okay." As soon as I walked out, I pulled out my phone and sent Harrison a text: I want a divorce. 1 I returned to my cubicle and slumped into my ergonomic chair, bone-tired. Marcus’s words were playing on an endless loop in my head: “I didn’t even see a resume before she was put on payroll.” “I searched their old university alumni forums. Eight years, Summer. They were inseparable.” “She walks into his private office without knocking. And did you see that just now? He drank from her glass. How is that any different from kissing her right in front of us?” Thinking about it made my chest feel like it had been packed tight with wet cotton. I couldn’t breathe in; I couldn’t breathe out. I was staring blankly at the Austin transfer agreement on my desk when a coworker tapped on my partition, her voice hushed. "Mr. Pierce wants to see you in his office." "Alright," I murmured. I shoved the unsigned transfer papers into my drawer and took the private elevator up to the C-suite. Before my knuckles could even graze the frosted glass of his door, Harrison yanked it open. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me flush against his chest. The crisp, expensive scent of cedarwood and bergamot wrapped around me. He rested his chin on the top of my head, his voice dripping with that effortless affection he always used to disarm me. "Is the new acquisition project stressing you out?" "I just wired a million and a half into your personal account. Why don't you take a trip? Go relax." Before I could even process the words, Harrison casually made the decision for me. "Haven't you always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland? Take this chance to unplug. The acquisition you've been leading—just hand it over to Audrey. She—" I shoved him hard, breaking the embrace. I stared dead into his eyes. He looked exactly as he always did—impeccably dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit, the top button of his shirt casually undone. He radiated this detached, untouchable kind of grace. Seeing the storm brewing in my eyes, Harrison’s easy smile faded. He shifted into his 'reasonable executive' tone. "The office politics are brutal right now, Summer. Everyone is saying she only got the job through nepotism. If she closes this project, it gives her leverage. It proves she belongs here." A harsh, breathless laugh escaped my lips. "You know exactly how hard it was to get this deal on the table. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I slept through the night? And now, right at the finish line, you want me to just hand it to her?" In that agonizing second, a memory from the breakroom just ten minutes ago flashed through my mind. I had heard the junior analysts whispering: “She’s so clueless, it’s actually embarrassing.” “With Audrey here, did she really think the CEO was going to take her water? Try-hard.” A tidal wave of humiliation crashed over me. When I finally spoke, I hated how my voice cracked, betraying the tears stinging my eyes. "I'm serious, Harrison. We need to get a divorce. Standing in that boardroom... even I felt like you and Audrey were the married ones." Seeing the rim of red around my eyes, Harrison—who was just about to lose his temper—suddenly froze. 2 Harrison looked down at me, his jaw tight. "Summer, I—" Before he could finish, the door to his private adjoining suite clicked open. Audrey strolled out, stretching her arms above her head like a cat. She looked completely at ease. "Not bad, Harrison," she drawled playfully. "You actually remembered I'm a light sleeper. The blackout curtains and the noise-canceling headphones? Very thoughtful. Guess you have a conscience after all." She finally noticed me standing there. She stopped, feigning an exaggerated wince of apology. "Oh, did I interrupt something? I'll get out of your hair." Audrey flashed me a saccharine, placating smile, grabbing her designer tote. But just as she reached the door, she paused and looked back at Harrison. "By the way, Nate was complaining about how stressed he is. He wants to do a dinner tonight at Catch, just the old crew. It's pouring outside—mind if I hitch a ride in your car?" Harrison didn’t answer her directly. He kept his eyes locked on me. "You know Nate," he said, his voice low. "We've been tight since undergrad. It's just a friendly dinner." He took a slow breath, softening his tone. "I'll explain everything when I get home tonight, okay? If you're tired, just go to bed. I'll text Maria to warm up some milk for you." I kept my eyes trained on the floor. In my peripheral vision, I could see Audrey’s haughty posture, the undeniable spark of triumph in her eyes. I thought about the past year. No matter how much I begged, cried, or pleaded for boundaries, Harrison would always brush it off with a breezy: “Audrey and I are ancient history. You’re my legal wife. What are you worried about?” I thought about the Austin transfer sitting in my desk drawer. Digging my fingernails into my palms to anchor myself, I forced my voice to stay level. "I'll wait up. We have a lot of logistics to discuss regarding the divorce." 3 I was met with a suffocating, drawn-out silence. When I finally looked up, Harrison and Audrey were already walking down the corridor. The acoustics of the hallway carried Audrey’s bright, teasing laugh back to me. "Didn't realize your wife was such a manipulative little wallflower. Honestly, looking at her play the victim like that... doesn't it break your heart?" Harrison’s profile was stone-cold. His voice was utterly devoid of emotion. "I've explained it to her a hundred times. We broke up amicably because the romance died. There is zero chance of us getting back together. I have no idea why she insists on being so insanely jealous." The heavy ding of the elevator drowned out whatever he said next, the polished steel doors sliding shut on their conversation. I let out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. The flawless marriage I thought I was building had just been a punchline all along. I didn't hesitate anymore. I walked straight back to my cubicle, pulled out a black pen, and signed my name on the Austin relocation agreement in sharp, definitive strokes. If I looked at the bright side, Austin was a lot closer to my hometown in Texas. I’d finally have time to see my parents. 4 The rain was coming down in sheets. Harrison had arranged for his private driver, Thomas, to take me home. However, as usual, the black Escalade was parked three blocks away from the office building. Harrison had always insisted that keeping our marriage a secret was for my own good—to protect me from "office gossip." After all, I was just a smart, middle-class girl who had worked her way up from public schools and student loans. I didn't look like the kind of woman who belonged on the same marriage certificate as the heir to the Pierce family empire. "Mr. Pierce hired a private chef for tonight, ma'am," Thomas said, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "It's the head chef from that little spot in Florence you loved. Mr. Pierce poached his whole team." He merged onto the wet avenue. "Enjoy your dinner tonight. Oh, and the new Kelly bag he ordered for you should be delivered any minute." I went entirely still. A wave of absolute, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. He was always like this. One second he treated me like royalty. The next, he treated me like I didn't exist. While I was staring blankly at the rain streaking the window, my phone buzzed. It was Harrison calling. I answered, but quickly realized it was a pocket dial. I could hear the clinking of heavy crystal glasses and the ambient noise of an upscale restaurant. Then, I heard Nate sighing heavily. "Man, seeing you and Audrey sitting next to each other like this... it just pisses me off. You two were so good together. Eight years. Who the hell gets eight years with someone and just throws it away? When you married Summer, we literally told Audrey that if you wanted to run away from the altar, we’d have the getaway car ready." My breath hitched. The hostility I had always felt from Harrison’s inner circle wasn't in my head. They had always despised me. Then, I heard Harrison let out a low, exasperated chuckle. "Shut up. Nobody was running away. Audrey and I ran our course. Eight years is a lifetime; we practically turned into family." "Family is the only thing that lasts forever," Audrey interjected, scoffing loudly. "Can you seriously guarantee you won't get bored of that plain, boring little trophy wife of yours? If she’s so great, why aren't you home with her tonight? Admit it, Harrison. She was just a shiny new toy. Let's see how you feel in eight years... hell, you'll probably be bored in three." A long, agonizing silence followed. All I could hear was the steady rhythm of Harrison’s breathing through the speaker. He didn't defend me. He didn't say a word. And strangely, I felt a profound sense of relief. Thank God I had already made the decision to leave. The sunk cost fallacy wasn't going to keep me trapped here. Cutting my losses now wasn't too late. 5 It was past midnight when the front door finally clicked open. I had just finished printing out the formal separation papers. "Harrison—" "I apologize, Mrs. Pierce, he’s had a lot to drink," Thomas said, practically carrying Harrison into the foyer and depositing him onto the velvet sofa. "The rest of his party booked rooms at the hotel. Mr. Pierce was the only one who insisted on coming home to you, but the storm slowed us down." I looked at Harrison. He was slumped against the cushions, his tie discarded. His dark eyes were glazed over with alcohol, yet they still held that magnetic, ruinous charm. He looked at me with hazy focus and murmured, "Wife. Come here." Thomas tactfully bowed his head and slipped out, clicking the door shut behind him. I let out a breath and turned toward the massive kitchen to make him some black coffee. Just as I crossed the threshold, I heard Harrison mumble blindly into the silence. "Audrey. Audrey..." Crash. The ceramic mug slipped from my fingers, shattering into dozens of pieces on the marble floor. Maria, the housekeeper, hurried out of her quarters. She scrambled to sweep up the shards, looking at me with frantic sympathy. "Please don't be upset, ma'am. They were together a long time. It's just muscle memory speaking. At the end of the day, who is the woman he brought home to be his wife? You. Think of how hard he pursued you. That proves he loves you." I didn't argue with her. Because deep down, I knew the truth. I had completely maxed out my capacity for this life. For the past year, it didn't matter what Harrison and I were doing—anniversaries, birthdays, quiet Sunday mornings—Audrey had a VIP override switch. One day someone rear-ended her car. The next, she thought someone was following her home. Two months ago, Harrison finally moved her into a desk right outside his office, just so he could "keep an eye on her." It was a million tiny papercuts, and I had bled out. Starting tomorrow, I was done shrinking myself to fit into his life. 6 I couldn't stand to look at him anymore. I didn't even want to have the "closure" conversation. While Maria was busy brewing the coffee, I went into the master closet. I packed up every single piece of designer clothing, luxury watch, and diamond necklace Harrison had ever bought me. It filled eighteen massive hard-shell suitcases. I hired a premium midnight moving service. And I walked out of that Upper East Side penthouse for good. 7 I booked a suite at a boutique hotel near the office. I planned to live there until my transfer to Austin was finalized. Once the decision is made, every extra minute waiting feels like a century. The next morning, I arrived at the office before sunrise. I placed the signed divorce papers dead center on Harrison’s mahogany desk. Then, I marched straight down to HR to ask Marcus how soon my flight could be booked. While Marcus was pulling up my file on his monitor, a scream echoed from the hallway. We locked eyes and bolted out of the office. Audrey had collapsed near the copy machine. A crowd of analysts had circled her in a panic, completely paralyzed. I remembered Harrison mentioning her severe hypoglycemia. I immediately dug into my purse, pulled out a bottle of orange juice, and knelt down to give it to her. Suddenly, Harrison shoved his way through the crowd. Without a word, he slammed his hand into my shoulder, shoving me backward with terrifying force. "Back off," he snarled. He hit me so hard I stumbled backward in my heels, losing my footing. My shin cracked brutally against the sharp metal edge of a filing cabinet. Blood instantly soaked through my pant leg. But Harrison didn't even look at me. His voice was tightly wound with panic. "Did someone call 911?" When someone confirmed the ambulance was on its way, he gently patted Audrey’s cheek. She gave a weak moan, and the rigid tension in his shoulders finally cracked. He snatched a tube of glucose tablets from his assistant’s hand and carefully placed one on Audrey’s tongue. Five minutes later, Audrey fluttered her eyes open. The paramedics rushed out of the elevators. Harrison stood up, smoothing his suit jacket, his voice steady again. "I knew this was going to happen eventually. I’ve carried these glucose pills in my pocket for years." He walked alongside the stretcher as they rolled her out. He never once looked back at me. Sitting on the carpet, I took a sterile photo of my bloodied leg and texted it to Harrison. Then I told Marcus I was taking a sick day and limped out to hail a cab to CityMD. After the doctor stitched me up, I checked my phone. Harrison had wired another million dollars to my account. How could you be so careless? Make sure you get the best doctors. Don’t worry about the bill. I’m dealing with an emergency. I can’t come to you right now. I stared at the endless zeroes in my banking app. I typed back a perfectly obedient: Okay. 8 Marcus called later that afternoon. He promised that as soon as the acquisition contract I’d been working on was officially signed, I was free to leave for Austin. A profound sense of calm settled over me. I said, "Thank you," and immediately logged onto my laptop from the hotel to finalize the pitch deck. I pulled an all-nighter, polishing every metric, every financial projection until it was bulletproof. At 9:00 AM, exhausted but thrilled, I called the client's liaison. "Oh?" the secretary said on the other end, sounding confused. "The contracts were finalized yesterday afternoon." A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. My mind went totally blank. "What do you mean?" "I mean exactly that," the secretary replied. "Mr. Pierce brought a team over personally to sign it. The final numbers weren't quite as elegant as your previous drafts, but it got the job done. We—" Pop. A loud cheer erupted from the floor above me, followed by the sound of confetti cannons. I could hear Harrison’s executive assistant projecting her voice over the applause. "Congratulations to Audrey on closing the biggest deal of the quarter! Mr. Pierce says everyone’s bonuses are doubled this month!" Through the glass walls of the atrium, I could see Audrey surrounded by a cheering crowd, blushing modestly. My face turned to stone. I bypassed security, marched to the top floor, and threw open the door to Harrison’s office. 9 Harrison had clearly just arrived. He was leaning back against the leather sofa, looking thoroughly exhausted, massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He opened his eyes, saw me standing there, and gave a tired, rueful smile. His voice was gravelly. "I knew you'd come up here. Sorry about last night. After we signed the deal, I threw a victory dinner for Audrey, and it kind of dragged on until dawn. Did you sleep okay by yourself?" My eyes flicked to his desk. The divorce papers were exactly where I left them, untouched. I pulled my gaze back to him and demanded, my voice icy, "What gave you the right to hand my project to Audrey?" "I didn't care how you manipulated HR to hire her, but now you are actively stealing my intellectual property and my compensation—" "Summer." Harrison cut me off, a deep crease forming between his brows. "Do I not give you enough money? Are you really storming in here to interrogate me over a few hundred grand in corporate bonuses?" "I told you. She needed this win to legitimize her presence here." Seeing me physically shaking with rage, he sighed, offering a patronizing compromise. "Look, once she builds up her resume and can handle things on her own, I'll transfer her out. I think the Austin branch has an opening—I'll send her down there when the time is right. Please, let's not fight over this trivial office drama. I'm exhausted." Harrison lazily pushed up the cuff of his sleeve, glancing at his Rolex. He stood up, walking leisurely toward his desk. His eyes finally landed on the stark white document sitting on his blotter. He stopped. Just as he picked it up to read the header, his intercom buzzed. Harrison's jaw tightened. He hit the speaker button. Marcus's voice echoed through the sprawling office. "Mr. Pierce, since the acquisition is closed, should I initiate the formal paperwork for Summer's relocation to Texas?" 10 Harrison stood frozen, staring at the thin stack of divorce papers in his hand. The color drained from his face, swiftly replaced by a dark, terrifying fury. He slowly turned his head to look at me, the anger in his eyes boiling over. Yet, he forced his voice into a deadly calm as he addressed the intercom. "You are the head of HR, Marcus. Are you seriously bothering me with clerical issues? If someone is transferring, you process it and bring me the final approval sheet to sign. Do I need to explain your own job to you?" Harrison’s total focus was on the divorce agreement. He hadn't even processed the name Marcus had said. Before I could even exhale, the agonizing sound of paper ripping filled the room. He tore the contract in half, then into quarters. "This isn't the first time you've pulled this stunt, Summer." He looked at me like I was completely irrational, his voice dripping with frost. "Let me guess. You're still obsessing over the fact that I drank from Audrey's glass at the board meeting? It was a reflex. You are throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce over water?" I stood entirely still. It was a stark reminder of how it had always been. It didn't matter how egregiously he crossed the line; Harrison always found a way to flip the narrative and make me the hysterical one. I looked at him quietly. I didn't say a word. After a heavy, suffocating silence, Harrison sighed, adopting the tone of a benevolent king granting a pardon. "I know my throat was bothering me that day. I know you were just looking out for my health. But honestly, I wasn't thinking. When you've been with someone for eight years, grabbing things from their hands is just muscle memory. I promise I'll be more mindful next time, alright?" I lowered my eyelashes, hiding my eyes. My mind was already racing, calculating exactly how I was going to trick him into signing that Austin transfer. Because judging by this reaction, Harrison was never going to let me walk away willingly. While my thoughts were still tangled, the office door flew open. Victoria, Harrison’s older half-sister who had been living in London, stormed in. She dropped her designer bags on the couch, laughing brightly. "I was so swamped I couldn't even make it to your wedding, Harry! First thing I had to do off the tarmac was come apologize to your wife." Victoria raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, gave me a dismissive once-over, and turned entirely toward Harrison. "Well? What are you waiting for? Call Audrey up here. It's been four years since I saw her in Paris, I need to know if she's changed." 11 Over the past year of marriage, I had endured this exact scenario dozens of times. Usually, Harrison would brush it off, giving some vague, non-committal excuse to protect my feelings. This time was no different. He gave a lazy, deflective laugh. "Worry about your own life, Vic. Dad lined up a dozen blind dates for you. Word on Wall Street is you have twelve months to lock down a husband." I watched him smoothly redirect the conversation. In the past, this was the exact moment I would have stepped forward, asserted my boundaries, and staked my claim as his wife. Instead, I quietly backed out of the office, letting the door click shut behind me. Because right then, watching Victoria, a brilliant idea had just popped into my head on how to get his signature. 12 I was meeting with Marcus by the elevators just as Audrey strutted past us on her way to the C-suite. Within twenty minutes, half the floor was gossiping about how warmly Victoria Pierce had embraced Audrey, catching up like old sisters. Marcus let out a deep sigh of relief, sliding a thick manila folder toward me. "Thank God I didn't process Audrey's transfer. Man, if I tried to ship her to Austin, the Board would have had my head on a pike." I took the folder with both hands, offering a polite, agreeable smile. "You dodged a bullet." 13 The entire corporate grapevine was buzzing with rumors that Harrison and Audrey’s engagement was imminent. I couldn't care less. Just like I did at the end of every fiscal year, I collected the massive stack of annual renewal contracts for the estate staff, the private security firm, and the vendors. I just needed to find the perfect moment to bury my Austin relocation approval deep inside that stack and get his pen on the dotted line. I didn't expect the perfect moment to present itself so quickly. Someone in accounting—whether by accident or design—leaked Harrison's tax filing status. He was married. And the date on the marriage certificate proved that Audrey had been vacationing in St. Barts when the knot was tied. The office narrative flipped violently. The tragic "college sweethearts" fairy tale vanished, replaced overnight by whispers that Audrey was a homewrecker. I grabbed my stack of contracts and navigated through the chaos up to his office. Through the cracked door, I heard Audrey sobbing hysterically. "It's not my fault they assumed things! I never once said I was your wife! And now look at me—I haven't done anything wrong, and I'm public enemy number one. Do you know what they're calling me out there? They're saying I slept my way into getting that acquisition deal." She choked on her tears, looking up at him with a flushed, devastated face, biting her lip in humiliation. "Did Summer leak the document? She's hated me since the second I walked into this building. She's doing this to force me out. Fine, Harrison. I give up. We gave each other eight years, and this is how it ends. I'm leaving—" "Audrey, stop." Harrison’s voice was calm. He caught her wrist. He smoothed his thumb over her skin, his tone incredibly soft. "We’ll fix this. Don't be impulsive. You don't have enough corporate experience to land a Director role anywhere else. Where would you even go?" "But I have to walk out there and be called a whore every single day—" Harrison, standing tall and imposing in his suit, looked down at the woman on the verge of a breakdown. He let out a fond, helpless sigh. He gripped Audrey’s shoulders, coaxing her like a frightened child. "All I have to do is prove I'm legally single, and the rumors die instantly. It's just a piece of paper. We'll do a fake divorce. Just for a little while." "Once the heat dies down and people forget, I'll transfer you to the regional office. Then I'll officially announce my marriage to Summer. She's been begging me to go public since day one. If I tell her this 'divorce' is the stepping stone to a public marriage, she'll agree to it in a heartbeat." My heart physically misfired in my chest. Even though I had already packed my bags mentally and physically, hearing my husband coldly strategize the dissolution of our marriage just to protect Audrey’s ego... it burned. It felt like swallowing glass. But the grief flared and vanished just as quickly. I took a deep breath, gripped the stack of papers tighter, and pushed the door open. 14 For the past few days, Harrison had been busy helping Audrey move into a luxury high-rise. He insisted on handling the logistics himself. He hadn't been back to the penthouse. He had no idea my closet was entirely empty. When our eyes met in his office, a flicker of profound annoyance crossed his face. "What are you doing up here?" He suddenly remembered what Audrey had just accused me of. His eyes narrowed, assessing me with aggressive suspicion. "Did you come up here to demand I fire her?" I choked down my disgust. I kept my face utterly passive, stepping forward and dumping the massive stack of contracts onto his desk. "Annual renewals. Security, maintenance, the house staff. You handled them last year, so—" "Got it," Harrison snapped, grabbing his Montblanc pen. He started signing the bottom right corner of each page in rapid succession, muttering under his breath. "You are perfectly capable of handling this yourself. But you just have to come interrupt me during business hours. You really can't stand being away from me for five minutes, can you?" He let out a short, arrogant laugh, sliding the signed stack back across the mahogany to me. "If you miss me, just say so. Using paperwork is pathetic. By the way—" Harrison cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. He turned his head, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window, unable to meet my eyes. His voice grew strained. "There are some vicious rumors going around about Audrey. It's damaging the company's integrity. The easiest way to defuse it is for us to file for a legal separation. A fake divorce. Just to prove she isn't what they say she is." "I promise you, the second the PR crisis is over, I'll cancel the filing. Then we'll finally go public. You've always wanted to be acknowledged as my wife, right? You'll do this for me, won't you?" I looked down at the floor. My hands were trembling slightly from the sheer adrenaline of having the signed Austin transfer in my possession. But to Harrison, my trembling looked like I was holding back devastated tears. A flash of guilt crossed his face. "Summer, please don't cry—" "It's only for a month. New York requires a waiting period anyway. We'll be back to normal before it's even finalized." Terrified that if I stayed a second longer he might check the paperwork, I dropped a quiet, "Okay," and practically ran out of the office. Because Audrey was terrified of the backlash, she forced Harrison to drag me down to the county clerk's office that very afternoon. As we stood on the courthouse steps, Harrison looked down at me. "I'm going to sort out the PR mess tonight. Then I'll come straight home to you." I paused, but I didn't turn around. You're out of time, Harrison. Tonight, I was leaving New York.