She Left She Thrived She’s Worth Billions novel Chapter 412

Initially, Melanie had worried that Dominic's hospitalization would stall the process. Usually, both parties had to appear in person to finalize the paperwork, or the application would be voided.

But the officials had surprised her with a phone call, explaining that a new regulation allowed for a video conference to verify consent.

By that afternoon, a courier had dropped off an envelope at her office.

Melanie tore it open and pulled out the official document.

The divorce decree.

The paperwork looked standard, but the freedom it represented was everything.

Sitting alone in her office, Melanie traced the edges of the decree.

She had imagined this moment countless times—wondering how she would feel when she finally severed ties with Dominic forever.

Would she feel ecstatic? Relieved? Vindicated?

The reality was startlingly mundane: she felt absolutely nothing.

She remembered a time before she utterly destroyed Dominic's reputation, when the sheer tragedy of her doomed marriage and his betrayal would occasionally bring her to tears.

But those moments of grief had dwindled.

Replaced entirely by the intoxicating thrill of impending vengeance.

Now, she felt neither sorrow nor triumph.

Because to her, Dominic and the marriage they once shared were nothing more than trash. And no one wasted emotional energy on taking out the trash.

A quiet, liberated smile graced her lips as she tucked the decree away.

She was finally done with him.

Marriage and divorce were supposed to be defining milestones, yet this felt like the most insignificant footnote in her life.

She had a long road ahead of her, and right now, she needed to focus on her research and development work.

Riding high on a good mood, Melanie's productivity skyrocketed, and she stayed for a little overtime.

It was just past seven when she finally left the Royce Group headquarters.

She shoved her R&D files into the handbag Preston had bought for her. Using a ridiculously expensive designer tote worth hundreds of thousands of dollars as a makeshift briefcase was absurd, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

As soon as she slid into the driver's seat, her phone buzzed with a text from Preston.

Preston: Still working?

Melanie: Just finished.

Preston: I'll wait for you at home then.

Melanie: You'll be waiting a while. I'm going out with my bestie tonight to get totally wasted.

Preston: Are you going to Eclipse Noir Club?

Melanie: Yeah, why?

Preston: No reason.

The text conversation ended there. Melanie didn't double-text, and Preston didn't follow up.

After all, today was her first official day as a single woman.

She fully intended to let loose with Daphne Morrell.

As a high-end nightclub, Eclipse Noir Club had an endless supply of top-tier liquor, but their food menu was seriously lacking.

Melanie stared.

What kind of game was he playing?

She opened her mouth to ask, but the words died in her throat.

The stoic billionaire was bent in a bow, his normally glacial eyes now warm, bright, and staring at her with predatory heat.

She found herself completely mesmerized, her gaze glued to his exposed skin.

She vaguely remembered a time she had gotten blackout drunk and Preston had played the role of her personal club host, but she had been too far gone to appreciate it.

Tonight, he was making up for it.

A slow smile spread across her face. Following his lead, she slid into a plush VIP booth.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here now?"

"If you're willing to buy me a fleet of Ace of Spades champagne, I might consider telling you."

Preston's smooth, effortless reply left Melanie speechless.

Was this really Preston?

Without thinking, she reached out and gave his forearm a firm squeeze, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Preston let out a low, rough chuckle at her boldness.

He rarely laughed.

But lately, around her, he seemed to be smiling more and more.