The Billionaire's Revenge She Made Him Lose Everything

The last candle flickered out.

So, Lucas asked, his voice low and smooth. What wish did you make?

Under the warm glow of the chandelier, Lucas Delgado looked just as he always hadhandsome, composed, his eyes holding a deceptive gentleness.

Lucas.

I offered a faint smile, reached into the drawer, and pulled out the document I'd prepared days ago. I slid it across the table until it rested beside his wine glass.

"Let's get a divorce."

The smile froze on his face.

Silence stretched between us. After a few seconds, the tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by familiar, chilling contempt. He swept a glance over the papers.

"Alex," he sighed, sounding bored. "What kind of tantrum is this?"

He picked up the agreement, his demeanor shifting to cold arrogance.

"Back then, you were the one who screamed and cried, refusing to leave. You threatened suicide just to stay married to me. Now you're playing hard to get?"

"Lucas"

Click.

His lighter cut me off.

The flame danced in his pitch-black eyes. I watched, unmoving, as he touched fire to the corner of the document.

"You think a piece of paper scares me?" He tossed the burning pages into the ashtray. "You think this little stunt will make me bow down?"

Smoke curled upward, carrying the scent of burning ink.

Lucas rounded the table. Before I could react, his hand clamped around my jaw, forcing my head up, his grip bruising.

"Or is it something else?" He leaned in, breath hot against my ear. "Has it been too long, Alex? Starved for attention?"

His tone was frivolous, insulting. His free hand slid over the curve of my waist.

A shiver ran through menot pleasure. Revulsion.

His touch triggered a memory, sharp and agonizing. The mistress he kept in luxury. The day I'd finally snapped.

The day I learned exactly what I was worth to him.

I'd stood in the center of our living room, tears streaming, pointing at the girl on the sofa. She looked barely out of collegefresh, innocent, everything I no longer was.

"What did I do wrong?" I'd screamed. "You have to sneak around with her?"

I'd collapsed to my knees.

"I've been with you since I was sixteen, Lucas! I followed you when you had nothing. We lived in a basement! We built this empire together!" My voice cracked. "And now you're throwing me away for this?"

Desperate. Broken. Pleading for a shred of humanity.

Lucas's stare held nothing but ice.

"Did I beg you to follow me at sixteen?"

He stepped closer, looking down at me like something stuck to his shoe.

"Did I ask for your charity? No. You had no shame. You clung to me like a parasite." He scoffed. "What decent girl runs off with a man at sixteen? You were loose. Desperate."

"Disgusting."

The words scraped against my bones. I lunged at him, wanting to hurt him, wanting to die with himbut he caught my wrist and shoved me to the floor.

"Big sister."

Yara Chavez stood up, looking down from the safety of Lucas's side, a cruel smirk on her lips.

"If I were you," she drawled, "I'd find a quiet place and end it all."

Her laughter rang out, high and mocking. "To be despised by your own husband like this... how much of a failure are you?"

She hooked her arm through Lucas's, pouting up at him. "Honey, how did I not notice your bad taste before? Such an old hag... how did you ever stomach her?"

Lucas didn't defend me. Didn't even look away.

"Yeah," he murmured, eyes cold as they bored into mine. "How did I ever stomach her?"

Now, back in the dining room, the memory faded. The nausea didn't.

I felt Lucas's fingers slide under the hem of my dress, presumptuous, demanding. He was about to probe further, assuming I was still the same pathetic woman who'd accept his scraps.

Goosebumps erupted across my skin. My stomach churned, acid rising. I didn't even have time to turn away.

I retched. All over him.

Lucas froze.

He looked down at his ruined bespoke suit, face twisting from shock to pure fury. His hand recoiled like he'd been burned.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Seeing the disgust on his face, I felt no shame.

Only satisfaction.

For the first time in years, I threw my head back and laughed.

"Lucas."

My voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"You're absolutely right. What kind of decent girl runs off with a man at sixteen? What kind of person shamelessly elopes and leaves everything behind?"

I rose from the sofa and met his gaze. His face twisted with ugly irritation.

"Me," I said coldly. "That was me."

"So what?" he scoffed.

I grabbed the cake from the table. With one vicious swing, I smashed it directly into his face.

Cream splattered everywhere. Before he could explode, I cut him off. "I've already let you off easy."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he roared, clawing frosting from his eyes. "What more do you want?"

"What more?"

I snatched my phone and shoved the screen inches from his cream-smeared face. Yara Chavez's message glowed on the display.

"Your girlfriend says you bought her that necklace I've wanted for years," I said, my voice arctic. "Apparently, that was her price for 'allowing' you one hour to light a candle for me. Should I be grateful?"

His jaw clenched, but I wasn't done.

"Am I supposed to feel lucky you spent millions on her just to spare me sixty minutes? If you love this cake so much, Lucas, it's all yours."

I turned to leave, but his hand locked around my wrist. Frosting dripped down his face, making his fury almost comicalyet his grip was iron. Those eyes I'd adored for ten years now glared at me, cold and hard.

"Alex," he hissed. "Haven't you made enough of a scene? I promised to spend your birthday with you, and I'm here. I kept my word. Stop looking for reasons to be miserable."

He still thought this was a jealous tantrum. A desperate bid for his attention.

He was wrong.

The body never lies. And right now, my skin crawled where he touched me.

I stared at his hand on my arm. Nausea churned in my stomach. I wrenched free, grabbed a wet wipe, and scrubbed my wrist until the skin turned rawdesperate to erase the feel of him.

"Lucas." I dropped the soiled wipe. "I don't need this anymore."

I looked him dead in the eye.

"And I don't love you anymore."

He stared at my reddened wrist, stunned. The realization hit him like a slap. His bloodshot eyes searched my face before he let out a cold, hollow laugh.

"Fine." His voice turned to ice. "Don't you dare regret this, Alex."

He stormed out and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls.

I stood in the wreckage of the living room, frozen, until my phone buzzed.

Yara. She didn't miss a beat.

Big Sister, three million for one hour. Why don't you know how to cherish it?

A selfie followedYara preening, the diamond necklace glittering at her throat.

Honestly? You aren't worth three million. I wouldn't pay thirty. But what can I do? Lucas is just too sentimental. No matter how successful he gets, he won't forget the wife who suffered through poverty with him.

I could hear her mocking laughter through the screen. The arrogance Lucas had bred in her.

It was always the same. Whenever Yara attacked me, he defended her.

"Yara is young," he'd say. "She doesn't know any better. You're not a child, Alex. Why stoop to her level over petty things?"

He never hid his bias. From the day I discovered her, the scales had never tipped in my favor.

The worst was when he threatened divorce.

He'd looked me in the eye, his voice stripped of empathy. "Alex, I won't let Yara live without status. I won't let her be tormented by your jealousy until she breaks."

I stared at the divorce agreement. The icy legal clauses blurred before my eyes, and something inside me snapped.

A red haze clouded my vision. I lunged at Lucas, sinking my teeth into his arm like a rabid animal. I bit down until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. When my strength finally gave out, I collapsed.

I didn't stop there. I retreated to the bathroom, climbed into the tub, and opened my veins.

Crimson dyed the water, turning the room into a slaughterhouse.

That was what it took to make Lucas panic. That was what it took to scare him away from Yara's side and back to me.

"Alex."

He wept until he collapsed beside me, holding my bandaged form. "I never wanted you to die. I don't want your life, Alex."

"Alex..."

I had walked through the gates of hell and back. My body was so frail the doctor warned against any agitation. Yet Lucas felt the need to clarify his position right then and there.

"I can give you anything," he sobbed, trembling against me. "I can ensure you remain Mrs. Delgado. I can give you wealth, status, power. Anything..."

He looked up, eyes swollen, and delivered the final blow.

"...anything except love. I just can't love you anymore, Alex."

I watched him break down. I watched this powerful CEO reduced to a helpless child. And then I watched him sit by my hospital bed, waiting until he thought I was asleep to whisper comforting words to Yara over the phone.

In that moment, the tether snapped.

The Lucas I had tried to keep hostage with my life didn't matter anymore. The love I had tried to force was worthless.

So when I finally recovered enough to bring up the divorce again, I sent the agreement to him.

But Lucas didn't respond.

Yara did.

She invited me to a cafone of those trendy, chic spots designed for social media photos.

"Alex Henson," Yara began, gesturing around the room. "I heard that since you were little, you wanted a shop like this. Something leisurely and elegant. A place to just be with the person you love. Is that right?"

I looked at the woman across from me. Young, vibrant, her skin so dewy it looked like it would bruise if touched.

"I also heard about your family," she continued, voice dripping with faux sympathy. "You came from wealth, yet you refused to listen to their advice. You insisted on being with Lucas. Even when he had nothing, you followed him into the gutter."

Yara stirred her coffee, the spoon clinking against porcelain.

"When things were hardest, I heard your basement apartment leaked wind and water. Lucas told me that when it poured outside, it drizzled inside. The wind cut right through the walls. The bedding was always damp, impossible to warm. But even then, you thought you were happy."

Yes.

The year I eloped with Lucas.

We were so destitute we couldn't keep food on the table. We split a single steamed bun for dinner. Outside, the storm raged; inside, the roof leaked. We sat on the damp mattress, watching water drip into plastic bucketsdrip, drip, dripand joked that we had a natural sunroom with a water feature.

Back then, we were so poor that love was our only currency.

We clung to each other, desperate to give the other a better life. We treated every twenty-four hours like forty-eight, working ourselves to the bone.

During our busiest year, Lucas and I didn't sleep for five days straight. Not a single hour.

When we finally signed the deal that changed everything, Lucas held me, weeping. His eyes were red, his voice hoarse as he shouted my name to the empty office.

"Alex! We made it! We finally made it!"

"Alex Henson," Yara said, slicing through the memory. "The year you 'made it,' your body paid the price."

Her gaze dropped to my lower abdomen.

"You lost a child, didn't you? And from that day on, you lost the right to ever be a mother."

My hand tightened around my coffee cup, knuckles turning white.

It was the one trauma Lucas and I never spoke of. The tacit understanding we buried deep.

That night, amidst the celebration of our first major victory, Lucas's embrace had been gentle, as if he wanted to merge his soul with mine. I didn't even have time to return the hug before I felt the warmth spreading between my legs.

A massive hemorrhage.

The price of his empire was my blood.

"Alex!"

His voice cracked with panic. I watched Lucas collapse to his knees, screaming my name.

"Alex! Stay with me!"

I'm here, I wanted to tell him. Don't be afraid.

But darkness swallowed the words before they could leave my throat. My consciousness slipped away, and I fell into a deep coma.

When I finally woke, the doctor delivered the sentence: I would never be a mother again.

Lucas lay by my bedside, face buried in the sheets, weeping until he had no tears left. In his grief, he sought redemption. He went to the temple, bowing every three steps until his forehead bled, praying for our lost child's soul. He lit an eternal lamp in the sanctuary and established a charitable foundation in our baby's name.

He did it all with one hopethat our child would find peace and be reborn into a life without suffering.

Back in the present, I stared at the phone screen in Yara's hand.

She tapped play.

On the screen, Lucas stood before a monk in the temple.

"If I extinguish this lamp," Lucas asked, his voice thick with sincerity, "will Yara be able to conceive?"

My breath hitched.

"I'm not young anymore," Lucas continued. "I need an heir by my side. I can't let the memory of one lost child prevent me from ever being a father."

He reached out and picked up the eternal lamp. A desolate expression crossed his facea look I couldn't quite decipherbefore his grip tightened.

Then he smashed it.

The lamp shattered against the stone floor. The sound tore through me, visceral and sharp, as if he'd driven a knife straight into my chest. I felt my heart split in two.

"Do you understand now, Alex?" Yara sneered, pulling the phone back. "You're nothing but a burden to Lucas."

Memories of that year flooded back. The year Lucas lit that lamp, I had proposed divorce, willing to let him go so he could have a family. But it was Lucas who knelt before me, sobbing, begging me to stay.

"Alex, I've already lost the child. I can't lose you too."

"If I ever wrong you, may I die a gruesome death."

"If I ever betray Alex Henson, let me rot in hell."

I stared at Yara. I didn't scream. I didn't curse her shamelessness. I didn't give her the catfight she so desperately wanted.

Instead, as I saw Lucas rushing toward the caf window, a low, hollow laugh escaped my lips. I stepped closer to Yara.

"Yara."

Lucas burst in, his frantic gaze sweeping the room until it locked onto us. He opened his mouth to call out to her.

"Did Lucas ever tell you," I asked softly, my eyes fixed on her, "how we secured the order that saved the company during our hardest year?"

Lucas froze. His face went pale.

He started toward us, steps heavy with dread. Yara looked confused, but I just smiled at hercold, jagged.

"It was me."

I laughed, the sound hollow.

"I hadn't slept for five days preparing that proposal. I rushed to the client's company, only to find Mrs. Abbott going into premature labor."

I took another step toward Yara, invading her space.

"I dragged my heavy, pregnant body to save her, ignoring the pain. I secured that order. I made Lucas who he is today."

"What are you"

My hand shot out and snatched the fruit knife from the table.

Lucas skidded to a halt, his voice booming across the caf.

"Alex!"

I didn't hesitate. I wound my free hand through Yara's hair, yanked her head back, and pressed the cold blade against her throat.

"Back then, I gambled my life for Lucas's future," I whispered into her ear, my voice trembling with rage.

"Now..." My laughter grew louder, manic. "Why wouldn't I dare gamble my life to take yours?"

I pressed the blade closer.

"Worst case? We die together."

Yara's arrogance evaporated. She trembled violently, her body going limp against me.

"Lucas!" she shrieked. "Save me! She's crazy!"

"Alex, put it down!" Lucas roared, stepping forward.

"Don't come any closer!" I snapped.

Yara sobbed, terrified. "If you hurt me, Lucas won't let you live! He'll kill you!"

I watched Lucas charge toward me. He reached for the knife in my hand, his expression arrogant, certain I wouldn't dare harm him.

I didn't hesitate. I shoved Yara aside, gripped Lucas's wrist, and locked my gaze on the doorway.

A smile curled on my lips.

"Lucas."

Go to hell.

I yanked his handthe one clutching the knifeand drove the blade straight into my own abdomen.

He didn't even have time to blink.

The doors burst open. Reporters surged in, cameras flashing like strobe lights, capturing the exact moment Lucas appeared to stab me.

"Murder!"

"He's killing her!"

"Call an ambulance! Hurry!"

Panic seized him. He stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Before he could utter a word, the knife was wrestled from his grip and he was tackled to the floor. Pinned down, he could only scream helplessly at the flashing lenses.

"It wasn't me!"

"I didn't do it!"

"She did it herself!"