After the Divorce, My Billionaire Husband Lost His Mind

Chapter 4

I hadn’t planned on following her.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I stepped into the cool night air, my car gliding silently through the streets. But every instinct in me screamed: Don’t let her out of your sight. Not for a second.

Elara had disappeared into the hotel lobby like smoke, untouchable, radiant, and utterly indifferent. And I… I couldn’t let that go. Not after the way I had thrown her away. Not after seeing her smile at someone else like she belonged entirely to the world—and not to me.

I parked a block away and waited, watching her through the glass doors. She was still laughing with Marcus Hale, the arrogant bastard who had the audacity to flirt with my wife right in front of me. Every laugh tore at my chest like fire.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles went white. My mind raced: I will not lose her. I can’t lose her. I will fix this—whatever it takes.

I didn’t even notice when a valet approached. I barely heard the car horn from the street. All I could see was her.

She finally stepped outside, walking toward her car with a poise I couldn’t touch. Every step she took was deliberate, every motion commanding attention. People stared. Men admired. And I… I wanted to smash my fist through the pavement.

I followed her at a careful distance, my own car weaving through traffic, heart hammering like a drum. The streetlights illuminated her profile, and I noticed—she had changed. Her posture, the subtle confidence in the tilt of her chin, the way her eyes scanned her surroundings… She wasn’t broken. She was unstoppable.

The thought nearly made me laugh. Unstoppable. Me? The man who controlled empires? She had become someone I couldn’t reach.

I parked a block from her destination—an upscale restaurant I had never taken her to—and watched her disappear inside. My hand tightened around the steering wheel.

I didn’t care who saw me. I didn’t care what people thought. I needed her. I needed to speak. I needed to fix what I had broken.

I followed her inside.

The restaurant was filled with the clinking of glasses, soft chatter, and the faint scent of expensive wine. And there she was—Elara Ashford. My Elara. Sitting at a corner table, radiant, chatting with a man I didn’t know, completely unaware—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—that I had followed her here.

My heart surged. My chest ached.

I took a step forward.

Then another.

And then I froze.

The man she was talking to rose slightly, offering his hand. He was tall, confident, successful-looking… and smiling at her in a way that made my stomach twist.

Elara shook his hand, and I realized something terrifying.

She wasn’t just thriving. She was being admired without me. She didn’t need me. She hadn’t needed me, not even for a moment.

I wanted to explode. To shout. To make her look at me. But the room was full of people who would notice. And she… she might finally look at me with contempt if I humiliated myself here.

I stepped back into the shadows, heart hammering, mind screaming.

I had always controlled everything.

And now?

I couldn’t control her.

I realized, with a sinking dread I couldn’t ignore: the woman I had discarded was no longer mine to chase… and if I didn’t act fast, I might never have the chance again.