Too Late For Regret: My Ex Is A Billionaire

​The anniversary candle on the table flickered one last time before dying out, much like Avery’s three-year marriage. Across from her, Lucas threw a thick envelope onto the mahogany surface, his face twisted in a cold, unfamiliar sneer. ​"Sign it, Avery. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be," he demanded, his voice devoid of the warmth he had promised her three years ago. ​Avery looked down at the bold heading: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. "Today is our anniversary, Lucas. Is this your gift?" ​"My gift is your freedom," Lucas replied, pacing the small apartment they had shared since she arrived as a 'penniless girl' from the countryside. "I’ve reached the limits of what a rural girl can offer me. To climb higher in the corporate world, I need a partner who brings more to the table than just home-cooked meals and ironed shirts". ​Avery didn't beg. She didn't cry. The three-year test was finally over; she had wanted to see if Lucas would love her for her soul, but he had failed the test of the "shallow man" miserably. ​"You’re right, Lucas. I don't belong here," Avery said softly. With a quick, elegant stroke of the pen, she signed her name. ​"That’s it?" Lucas seemed surprised. "No asking for alimony? I could give you enough to get back to your village". ​Avery ignored him and pulled a slim, encrypted phone from her pocket—a device she hadn't touched in three years. She dialed a number that was burned into her memory. ​"It's Avery," she said, her voice cold and commanding. "The trial is over. Send the driver to the apartment. Also, have the staff at the estate pack my bags—the designer collection, not the rags I've been wearing here. I’m coming home". ​She hung up and looked at Lucas, who was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. "I'll wait for my driver downstairs. Don't touch my things, Lucas. You can't afford them".