My Billionaire husband hates me

Abigail's POV Divorce was supposed to feel like an ending, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd somehow walked into the middle of something The coffee ring on Hayes's desk had darkened the wood so completely that it looked permanent, and the papers were already signed My handwriting was neat and even, the way it always became when I wanted people to mistake composure for indifference. Hayes picked up the folder and studied it longer than necessary "Still drinking from that ugly mug?" I asked, nodding toward the chipped blue thing beside his elbow He looked down at it as though he'd forgotten it was there. "My daughter made it" "She still draws dinosaurs on everything?" "She's fourteen now" "...Right" Five years. Funny how the mind decided which things were worth remembering Hayes cleared his throat and placed the folder down as though it had suddenly become heavier "There's something you should know before you go" "Okay" "Mr. Mason has rejected every request you've sent. For two years" I repeated the sentence in my head, waiting for it to make sense. "Two years?" Hayes nodded. "I stopped calling you after the fifth one. I didn't want to keep giving you the same answer" "I thought he never even opened them" "He opened every single one" I searched my memory for a version of Clark that could explain it, but I came up empty "Why would he do that?" I asked Hayes shrugged, the kind of shrug that told me he genuinely didn't know and had long since stopped trying to figure it out. "He's made it clear he's not letting you go easy" I stood and the chair legs scraped against the floor louder than I intended "Thank you, Hayes. I'll figure it out" Outside, snow had started falling before I'd even reached the corner, and by the time I had walked two blocks, the city looked cleaner than I felt Clark Mason had refused to divorce me. The same man who once looked at me as though I were something he'd scraped off his shoe in front of his own board of directors My phone buzzed, but I didn't look at it immediately The ticker across the building on Forty Second Street was flashing red. Mason Group had lost twelve percent of its value in one morning, and even the anchor beneath it sounded cautious, as though she was choosing every word twice Then I saw Clark walking out of a building surrounded by men with cameras. Same jaw, same unreadable eyes. He didn't answer a single question, just kept walking as if all the noise around him belonged to somebody else A stranger clipped my shoulder on the sidewalk. "Sorry," he muttered, already moving past me His cologne reached me before he disappeared into the crowd. Cedar with something sharper underneath, exactly like Clark's, the same scent he had custom blended in London because he claimed drugstore cologne made him smell like everyone else. I hated that I still remembered it I turned to look, but it was only a stranger. Not him My hand remained pressed against my collarbone as I forced myself to keep walking Not my problem anymore, I told myself The lie lasted exactly one block By the time I reached Midtown, I'd almost convinced myself Hayes had made a mistake. At the office, everything felt normal again, and I was grateful for that. I worked under Abigail Reed now, and nobody here connected the name to anything. Linda stopped by my desk, moving as quickly as she always did "If you don't leave in the next ten minutes, I'm changing your password," Linda said. "Go home. You earned it on the Thompson case" "Ten minutes," I said. "Promise" The intercom clicked before I'd even packed half my files "Abigail? Someone's here. Says it's urgent" I frowned. "Send him back" The door opened more slowly than I expected, and George Mason stepped inside, leaning heavily on a cane that looked less like an accessory and more like something he'd been forced to depend on. His cufflinks were still gold, but his sleeves hung loosely around them, as though the rest of him had shrunk while the gold remained exactly the same The room suddenly felt too small for both of us "Mr. Mason. What are you doing here?" "I need you to save my grandson" A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. There was no humor in it. "Save him? I couldn't even save my own marriage" George lowered himself into the chair as though the simple act of sitting down had cost him something. "Last Tuesday, fifty eight million dollars left our accounts between breakfast and lunch," he said. "Nobody can account for it" I sat up straighter. "That's not a system failure. That's someone with access" "Three CFOs" I frowned. "They quit?" "No" He looked at me, and there was nothing dramatic in his expression, which somehow made it worse "They died" The words hung between us for a long moment "George," I said, using his first name without meaning to, "what the hell is going on over there?" "The money isn't the only thing disappearing. Our contracts are disappearing too. Every investigator we've hired has returned with folders full of nothing." He paused. "Pride has buried more Masons than bullets ever did, Abigail. I'm asking you to bury mine for once" I slowly shook my head. "The last time I walked into that building, I left in handcuffs. Your grandson stood there and let it happen. He didn't say one word" "I know" Neither of us spoke for a moment "I was wrong," George finally said I waited "Worse than wrong" "George" "I knew I was wrong. I knew it while it was happening, and I still let it happen" Before I could ask what he meant, he started coughing hard enough to shake his entire frame. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat and pressed it against his mouth, and when he lowered it, I saw blood on the white cloth, bright against the fabric in a way that made me stand before I even realized I was moving "Mr. Mason" He waved me off while struggling to catch his breath "Weeks" He smiled without amusement "Maybe less" I stood there, unsure what I was supposed to do with my hands George reached into his coat with trembling fingers and placed a thick sealed envelope on my desk "You made me a promise once. That you'd never see Clark again." He pushed himself upright, leaning heavily on the cane. "I'm asking you to break it. For both of you" "If you walk away," George said quietly, "there won't be a Mason Group left for you to come back to" I said nothing "Read it," he said. "Then decide" He left without looking back I stared at the envelope for a long time before finally picking it up. My hands were steady, which surprised me considering everything inside my chest was anything but Inside were two documents. The first was a marriage certificate, mine and Clark's, dated almost six years earlier. I traced Clark's signature with my thumb before realizing what I was doing The second was a financial report. The transfers had been layered through shell accounts so clumsily that they almost seemed deliberate, as though whoever moved the money wanted a professional to eventually notice. Whoever had built the trail understood accounting well enough to hide it, but not well enough to fool me Between the pages was a note written on old stationery I recognized before I even read the words Clark, Your wife never betrayed you I flipped to the bottom of the page Signed, Edward Mason I read the name once. Then again I had identified the body myself