The entire restaurant was laughing at my expense when my cruel ex asked who could ever love a woman like me

Ten minutes later, the grand double doors of the library opened.

Two of Vincent’s security guards physically propelled Tyler Hayes into the center of the room. Tyler looked like a man who had completely unraveled in less than twelve hours. His designer suit was wrinkled, his hair was messy, and his eyes were bloodshot and frantic. All of his arrogant, polished veneer had vanished, replaced by sheer, desperate panic.

When Tyler saw Emily sitting calmly in the velvet armchair holding a cup of tea, his face twisted into an ugly grimace of rage and humiliation.

“Emily!” Tyler shouted, taking a step forward before the two guards firmly grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to stop ten feet away. “What is this?! What have you done to me?! My company suspended me! Vanessa dumped me! My phone hasn't stopped ringing with death threats since 5:00 AM!”

Emily didn't cower. She didn't shrink back in fear or look down at the floor as she used to do whenever Tyler raised his voice. She set her teacup down gently on the saucer, stood up slowly, and met his eyes with a cold, unshakeable composure.

“I didn't do anything to you, Tyler,” Emily said, her voice steady and clear. “All I did was serve your table. You’re the one who decided to use me as entertainment for your new fiancée.”

“You ruined my life!” Tyler shrieked, struggling against the guards. “You and this—this lunatic criminal! You trapped me!”

“Trapped you?” a deep, velvet voice cut across the room like a razor blade.

Vincent stepped out from behind the mahogany desk. He walked slowly toward Tyler, his height and imposing presence completely dwarfing the frantic consultant.

Tyler swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously toward Vincent as the billionaire approached him.

“Mr... Mr. DeLuca,” Tyler stammered, his bravado instantly evaporating. “Please... this is a private matter. Emily and I... we have history. She’s just a bitter ex-girlfriend trying to ruin—mov—”

Before Tyler could finish his sentence, Vincent struck.

It wasn't a wild, uncontrolled punch. It was a single, lightning-fast backhand that caught Tyler squarely across the cheek with a sharp, cracking sound.

Tyler stumbled sideways, crashing hard against a bookshelf before sliding down onto the Persian rug, clutching his stinging face in absolute shock.

“You do not raise your voice in this house,” Vincent said, his voice dangerously quiet as he loomed over Tyler. “And you certainly do not speak to Emily that way ever again.”

Tyler whimpered, pressing himself back against the bookshelf, too terrified to even look up.

Vincent turned around, walking back toward Emily. He stopped right in front of her, his expression instantly softening as he looked down into her eyes.

“Are you alright?” Vincent asked gently, his hand coming up to rest lightly on her shoulder.

Emily looked down at Tyler, cowering on the floor like a whipped dog—the same man who had made her feel small, worthless, and invisible for three long years. And then she looked up at Vincent, who had built an empire, moved mountains, and upended his entire world just to restore her dignity.

For the first time in her life, Emily felt completely free.

She placed her hand over Vincent’s on her shoulder, offering him a genuine, radiant smile. “I’ve never been better.”

Vincent nodded once. He gestured to Kael.

“Take him out,” Vincent ordered coldly. “Put him on the first flight out of Chicago, and make sure he never steps foot in this state again. If he ever tries to contact Emily or her family, ensure he spends the rest of his natural life wishing he hadn't.”