THE RELUCTANT TYCOON

CHAPTER FOUR : THE MAGIC BILLIONAIRE

"What else?"

Victor Kane, he hired a private investigator three days ago to do a background check."

Victor was ruthless, smart, and completely without conscience.

And now Isabella was having lunch with him.

"I need to warn her, to stay away from him," Marcus said.

"Warn her about what? You can't tell her who Victor really is without explaining who you are. And the moment you do that…"

"I know." Marcus sank onto the couch. "But I can't just let her walk into that marriage blind."

"She's not blind. She's making a choice. She's choosing money and security over love. That's what you wanted to test, right? Whether anyone would love you without the fortune?"

"That was before Victor Kane entered the picture."

"Victor's been circling the Monroe family for six months. This isn't new, Marcus. He targeted them specifically because of their business connections. He'll marry Isabella, absorb Monroe Imports, and probably divorce her within a year once he's got what he needs."

"Then I definitely can't let her marry him."

James threw up his hands. "So what's your plan? Reveal yourself? Tell her you're actually Marcus Liang, billionaire heir? Tell her you've been testing her for two years while she struggled to save her mother's business? Tell her you could have helped at any time but chose not to because you wanted to see if she really loved you?"

Put like that, it sounded cruel. It sounded unforgivable.

Marcus didn't have an answer.

His phone buzzed.

Another message from Isabella. Victor just sent a car for me. He's so thoughtful. So different from you.

Marcus stared at the message. So different from you. The words cut deeper than any divorce papers ever could.

James saw his expression and his voice softened. "Marcus, I know this is hard. But you need to decide what you're going to do.

Marcus left the warehouse an hour later with a new phone and a list of instructions from James. Stay off the grid. Avoid public scenes. Don't use any accounts connected to Liang Industries. And most importantly, sign the divorce papers and walk away.

But Marcus wasn't ready to walk away. Not yet.

The apartment was empty when he returned. Isabella had left a note on the kitchen table: Lunch with Victor. Be gone by 5 PM.

Marcus crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. He had six hours.

He looked around the tiny apartment that had been his home for two years. The couch with the broken spring. The kitchen table that wobbled. The bedroom where his wife no longer wanted him. Two years of his life spent proving a point that nobody cared about except him.

His phone buzzed. Not the new one James had given him, but his old one. A text from Gerald Monroe: Family dinner tonight at 7 PM. Isabella says you're finally signing the papers. About time. Don't bother showing up.

Marcus stared at the message. Gerald had never wanted him at family dinners anyway. But there was something different about this message. A finality to it. Like Gerald was closing a door that had never really been open.

Marcus typed back: I'll be there.

The response came quickly: Why? So you can embarrass us one more time? Stay home, Marcus. You've done enough damage.

I have a gift for your parents' anniversary.

We don't want your gifts. We don't want anything from you.

Marcus smiled without humor. They would want his gifts soon enough. They just didn't know it yet.

He went to the bedroom and pulled out a small box from under the bed. Inside was a watch, expensive, elegant, the kind of thing Gerald's father would have loved. Marcus had bought it six months ago with money from one of his secured accounts, planning to give it at the anniversary dinner.

But that was when he still believed Isabella might come around. When he still thought love could survive poverty.

He showered, put on his least-damaged shirt, and caught the bus to the Monroe estate. The house sat in one of San Francisco's wealthy neighborhoods, a three-story Victorian that Gerald's grandfather had built. Marcus had only been inside twice, once when he married Isabella, and once when Gerald made it clear he wasn't welcome.

The security guard at the gate recognized him and frowned. "Mr. Chen. I wasn't told you'd be coming."

"I'm here for the anniversary dinner."

"Let me call the house." The guard picked up his phone, spoke quietly, then hung up with an embarrassed expression. "Sir, Mr. Monroe says you're not on the guest list."

"I'm his son-in-law."

"Not for much longer, from what I hear." The guard's smile was cruel. "Mr. Monroe was very clear. You're not welcome here."

Marcus felt anger burn in his chest, but his face stayed calm. "Tell Gerald I have a gift for his parents. I'll leave it with you if he doesn't want to see me."

The guard made another call. This time the conversation was longer, more animated. Finally, he hung up and shook his head. "Mr. Monroe says to throw away whatever trash you brought. His parents don't want gifts from someone like you."

"Fine," Marcus said quietly. "Tell him I tried."

He turned to leave, but the gate opened and Isabella stepped out. She was wearing a green dress that matched her eyes, her hair styled perfectly, her makeup flawless. She looked like the woman he'd married, beautiful, confident.

But when she looked at him, all he saw was irritation.

"Marcus, what are you doing here?"

"I came for your grandparents' anniversary. I have a gift."

She glanced at the small box in his hand and laughed. "A gift? Marcus, my grandfather collects vintage watches worth more than our entire apartment. What could you possibly have bought him?"

"Something meaningful."

"With what money?" She crossed her arms. "Did you save up your delivery tips? Maybe pooled together a few English lesson payments?"

The security guard was trying not to laugh. Marcus ignored him and held out the box to Isabella.

"Just give this to your grandfather. Please."

Isabella didn't take it. "I'm not giving him trash. It's embarrassing enough that I married you. I won't make it worse by presenting him with some cheap knockoff watch from a street vendor."

"You haven't even looked at it."

"I don't need to look at it. I know you, Marcus. I know exactly what you can afford, which is nothing." She turned toward the gate. "Go home. Sign the papers. Stop making this harder than it needs to be."

"Isabella…"

"No." She spun back around, and her eyes were cold. "I'm done, Marcus. Done defending you to my family. And watching you sit around doing nothing while my whole life falls apart. Victor is inside right now, talking to my father about saving Monroe Imports. Do you understand? He's actually helping while you're out here with your pathetic gift and your excuses."

"Victor Kane doesn't want to help your family. He wants to use them."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something dangerous. "And how would you know what Victor wants? You don't know anything about business. You don't know anything about real life. You're just a poor, pathetic man who tricked me into marriage by pretending to be something you're not."

"I never pretended…"

"Yes, you did!" Her voice rose. "You pretended to have potential. But it's not enough, Marcus. It's never enough. And I'm tired of drowning because of your failures."

Marcus stood very still. Every word felt like a knife, but he didn't let it show on his face. He'd spent two years learning to hide his reactions, and he wouldn't break now.

"So that's it?" he asked quietly. "Two years together and you don't even want to try?"

"Try what? Try to make fifty dollars stretch to cover five hundred dollars of bills? Try to save a business while married to someone who can't even save himself?" She shook her head. "I tried, Marcus. I tried for two years. But I can't do it anymore. I won't do it anymore."

She turned back toward the gate, but Marcus called after her.

"You'll regret this."

Isabella paused but didn't turn around. "The only thing I regret is saying yes when you proposed. The only thing I regret is wasting two years on someone who was never worth my time."

She walked through the gate and it closed behind her with a metallic clang.

The security guard watched Marcus with barely concealed amusement. "Rough day, huh?"

Marcus didn't answer. He looked down at the box in his hand, the watch that cost more than Gerald's car. The gift that would have shown he wasn't what they thought he was.

But they didn't want to see. They'd already decided who he was.

So be it.

Marcus turned and walked back toward the bus stop. Behind him, he could hear laughter from inside the Monroe estate. A party starting, a family gathering, a celebration he wasn't part of.

His phone buzzed. The new one James had given him.

James: Where are you?

Marcus: Just got rejected from my in-laws' anniversary party.

James: Good. Come back to the warehouse. We need to talk about your next move.

James: The one where you stop being Marcus Chen and start being Marcus Liang again.

Marcus stared at the message. Start being Marcus Liang again. That meant revealing himself.

Marcus stood at the gate, still holding the rejected gift, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Wait."

He turned to see Daniel Monroe, Isabella's younger brother. Daniel was twenty-four, fresh out of business school, and had always treated Marcus with thinly veiled contempt.

"What is it?" Marcus asked.

Daniel smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Actually, I just thought of something. You came all this way with a gift, right? It seems wrong to send you away empty-handed."

"I'm fine. I was just leaving."

"No, no. I insist." Daniel's smile widened. "Come inside. There's something you can do for Grandpa and Grandma. A real gift. Something actually useful."

Marcus felt warning bells go off in his head, but before he could refuse, Daniel grabbed his arm. "Come on. Don't be rude. Family helps family, right?"

The security guard opened the gate, grinning. Daniel pulled Marcus through, leading him around to the back entrance of the house. Through the windows, Marcus could see the party in full swing, elegant guests in expensive clothes, champagne glasses, laughter.

Daniel led him through the kitchen entrance. The massive kitchen was empty except for a mountain of dishes stacked by the sink. Plates, glasses, silverware, serving platters, the remnants of a feast Marcus hadn't been invited to.

"Here's your real gift," Daniel said, gesturing at the dishes. "Grandpa and Grandma would appreciate this so much more than whatever cheap trinket you brought."

Marcus looked at the dishes, then at Daniel. "You want me to wash dishes."

"Well, you do have experience, don't you? I heard you worked at that restaurant downtown. Washing dishes is probably the most valuable skill you have."

Voices echoed from the hallway. More people were coming.

Marcus turned to leave, but Daniel blocked the door. "Come on, Marcus. Don't be so sensitive. I'm giving you a chance to actually contribute something meaningful to this family for once."

Victor Kane appeared in the doorway, with Isabella right behind him. Victor was tall, handsome, wearing a suit that cost more than Marcus's entire wardrobe. He looked at Marcus with barely concealed amusement.

"What's going on?" Isabella asked.

"I'm just giving Marcus a chance to give a proper gift," Daniel explained. "He's going to wash the dishes. You know, contribute something actually useful for once."

Several other family members crowded into the kitchen doorway. Gerald Monroe pushed to the front, saw Marcus, and his face darkened.

"What is he doing here? I told the guard…"

"It's fine, Dad," Daniel interrupted. "Marcus was just about to help with the dishes. Weren't you, Marcus?"

Everyone was watching now. Waiting. Some were already smiling, anticipating the show.

Marcus looked at Isabella. She met his eyes for a moment, and he waited for her to say something, to tell her brother this was going too far.

But she said nothing. She just stood there, silent, her hand resting lightly on Victor's arm.

"I don't think so," Marcus said quietly. "I came to deliver a gift, not to be your servant."

Daniel laughed. "Servant? Marcus, we're family. Family helps each other. Or are you too proud to do honest work? Oh wait, that's always been your problem, hasn't it?"

"Daniel, that's enough," said a woman's voice. Marcus turned to see Isabella's mother, Grace Monroe, entering the kitchen. For a moment, he thought she might defend him.

"He should go," Gra

ce said, looking at Marcus with cold eyes. "This is a family celebration. He doesn't belong here anymore."