The Billionaire He Threw Away Chapter 07

The Billionaire He Threw Away Chapter 07

On Friday evening, I stepped out of a black town car in front of the Plaza Hotel.

The charity gala was in the Grand Ballroom-chandeliers, champagne towers, a string quartet, and three hundred of New York’s most influential

people milling around in clothes that cost more than most people’s cars.

Diane had chosen my dress well. Black silk, floor-length, with a neckline that was elegant without trying too hard. My grandmother’s diamond

earrings caught the light every time I turned my head.

I barely recognized myself.

The woman who had slept on a bare couch frame three nights ago was gone. In her place stood someone who owned the building across the

street.

Gerald met me at the entrance. “Ready?” he asked.

“More than.”

We walked in together. A few heads turned. Then a few more. I saw people lean toward each other, whispering. *Who is she?*

No one knew. Not yet.

I spotted Liam almost immediately. He was near the bar, wearing the navy suit I’d bought him for his birthday last year. He looked good-I could

admit that. He always looked good.

Vanessa was beside him in a red dress, her hand possessively wrapped around his arm. She was smiling, laughing, performing the role of

supportive partner with practiced ease.

And then Liam looked up.

Our eyes met across the room.

I watched his expression change in real time-confusion first, then shock, then something raw and unguarded that he quickly tried to mask. His

lips parted. His hand stilled around his glass.

He had never seen me like this. In two years of marriage, I had never worn anything that cost more than fifty dollars. Never stood in a room where

I looked like I belonged among the powerful.

Vanessa followed his gaze. When she saw me, her smile froze.

I didn’t approach them. I didn’t need to. Gerald guided me toward a cluster of executives, and within minutes, I was shaking hands, exchanging cards, and being introduced as a new figure in the Wentworth circle.*

The name Wentworth did the heavy lifting. Doors opened. Conversations deepened. People who would never have looked at me twice were now angling for my attention.

Halfway through the evening, the emcee announced the gala’s main sponsor: Prism Digital.

Liam took the stage. He was charming, articulate, passionate about his company’s mission. The crowd responded warmly. For a moment, watching him up there, I remembered why I’d fallen in love with him.

Chapter 7

Then he thanked Vanessa-“my partner in every sense of the word”-and the memory curdled

After his speech, he stepped down and walked straight toward me.

“Elise.” His voice was tight. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying the party,” I said. “The champagne is excellent.”

“How did you get in? These tickets are five thousand dollars each.”

I took a sip of champagne. “Is that a lot?”

His eyes narrowed. He glanced at my dress, my earrings, the way people around me were deferring to my presence.

“Who are you here with?” he demanded.

Before I could answer, Gerald appeared at my side. “Ms. Wentworth, the Bellworth CEO would like a word.”

Liam heard the name. I watched it register.

“Wentworth?” he repeated slowly. “Why did he call you-”

“Excuse me,” I said with a polite smile. “I have a meeting.”

I walked away. I could feel his stare burning into my back like a brand.

Behind me, I heard Vanessa’s voice, sharp with barely concealed panic: “Liam? Liam, what’s wrong? Who was that?”

He didn’t answer her.

Across the ballroom, I met with Bellworth’s CEO-a pragmatic woman named Sandra Chen who had no patience for small talk.

“I’ve reviewed the Prism Digital partnership terms,” she said. “Richard Hale structured the deal to siphon media licensing rights back to his

personal holding company. It’s buried in the fine print, but it’s there.”

“I know,” I said. “I want the deal restructured. New terms. Transparent. And I want Vanessa Price removed from any role at Prism Digital.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “That might cause problems with the founder.”

“The founder,” I said, “is my husband.”

Both eyebrows went up.

“Soon to be ex-husband,” I added.

Sandra studied me for a moment. Then she smiled-the kind of smile women share when they recognize a particular kind of war

“I’ll have the new terms drafted by Monday,” she said.