The Billionaire's Regret: The Rise of The Cyber Queen

​The scent of seared Wagyu beef and rosemary hung heavy in the air of the Ariston penthouse, but it did nothing to warm the chill in my bones. I smoothed the fabric of my pale blue silk dress—a dress I had chosen because it was "unobtrusive," the exact word my husband, Therian, used to describe his ideal aesthetic. ​Four years. ​Forty-eight months of being a shadow in this glass-and-steel tomb. Today was our anniversary, a milestone that felt more like a sentence than a celebration. I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the New York City lights flicker like distant, cold diamonds. I had spent the entire afternoon preparing. I’d gone to three different markets to find his favorite vintage wine and the specific cut of steak he’d once mentioned in a rare moment of conversation. ​I was a fool. A hopeful, desperate fool. ​The heavy oak door groaned open. My heart skipped, a Pavlovian response I hated. I turned, a practiced smile ready on my lips, but the smile died instantly. ​Therian didn't walk in alone. ​Behind him stepped his mother, Vivienne, and his sister, Bianca. They didn’t enter the room so much as they invaded it, their sharp heels clicking against the marble like the ticking of a countdown clock. ​"Oh, look," Bianca sneered, tossing her designer clutch onto the sofa I had just vacuumed. She sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "The maid has been busy. Where is she? I need my trench coat steamed; the humidity in the lobby was dreadful." ​My fingers curled into my palms. "Bianca, I am not the maid. I am Therian’s wife." ​Vivienne, draped in pearls that cost more than my college education, let out a soft, sharp laugh. She didn't even look at me; she was busy adjusting the placement of a crystal vase on the sideboard, as if my presence didn't even register as human. ​"Wife? Is that what we’re calling it today?" Vivienne turned her cold, grey eyes toward me. "You were a necessity, Soraya. A quiet, low-born girl with a clean background to satisfy the board of directors while Therian built his empire. But the empire is built now. The house is finished. Why keep the scaffolding up?" ​My breath hitched. I looked past them to Therian. He was standing by the bar, pouring himself a drink. He hadn't looked at me once. He hadn't acknowledged the candles, the wine, or the fact that I was wearing the jewelry he’d given me two years ago and never seen me wear since. ​"Therian?" I whispered, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. "It’s our anniversary. I thought we were having dinner. Just us." ​Therian finally turned. He was breathtakingly handsome—and utterly vacant. His eyes, once the source of my warmth, were now just two pieces of flint. ​"The dinner is unnecessary, Soraya," he said, his voice as flat as a dial tone. "My family is here to oversee the transition. We’ve reached the end of our arrangement." ​"Arrangement?" I stepped forward, the heat of the stove finally reaching my face in a flush of anger. "We’ve been married for four years! I’ve supported you, I’ve endured your family’s insults, I’ve been a ghost in this house just to make your life easier. Is that just an arrangement?" ​"It’s a contract that has reached its expiration date," he countered. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek, leather-bound folder. He didn't hand it to me. He tossed it onto the dining table. ​It landed right in the middle of the steak platter. The juice from the meat—the meat I had spent three hours perfecting—began to soak into the white parchment of the cover. ​DECREE OF DIVORCE. ​The words blurred before my eyes. ​"Evaline is back from London," Bianca chirped, checking her reflection in the hallway mirror. "A real woman. Someone who actually fits the Ariston name. Not some charity case we picked up from a loan shark’s doorstep." ​"You need to sign," Therian said, ignoring his sister's jab but not disagreeing with it. "I’ve instructed my lawyers to be generous. You’ll have enough to live comfortably in a smaller borough. But I want you out by morning. Evaline is moving in on Monday." ​I looked at the man I had loved with every fiber of my being. I looked at the table set for two. I felt a sudden, violent urge to laugh. It was so cliché, so perfectly cruel, that it didn't feel real. ​"Four years," I whispered, the tears finally stinging my eyes. "And I don't even get a conversation? Just a folder on a dinner plate?" ​"Everything that needs to be said is in the paperwork," Therian said, already turning back to the bar. "Don't make this difficult, Soraya. It doesn't suit you." ​I stood there, surrounded by the people who had spent years making me feel invisible, realizing that I had finally succeeded. I was a ghost. And it was time for this ghost to start haunting them.