“Noelle Kelley,” she announced with a playful grin, already letting herself in. She glided around the massive desk and settled into the chair across from him, radiating a careless confidence. Her blouse cinched in at her waist, showing off every curve. With an easy air, she crossed her legs. “I asked you to meet me at the courthouse at ten for the divorce. Where were you?”
Patrick Jordan looked up, caught off guard. Was this really the wife he always ignored at home? The woman before him carried herself with the poise of a true heiress. She wasn't speaking to him like the husband she once worshipped; she was speaking to him like a junior employee who had failed her.
Patrick felt the shift. Gone was the timid, whiny woman he remembered. She was as radiant as the day he’d first met her—the kind of woman who could light up a room and keep it.
A shame, really, how her pathetic infatuation and spinelessness had turned her into someone he’d be embarrassed to take anywhere. But this Noelle? She seemed almost unreal, like a mirage.
Patrick rubbed his temples, weary. “Noelle, I don’t have time for this charade.”
“Who’s playing games?” Noelle asked, dead serious.
She was starting to wonder if Patrick had even read the divorce agreement she’d slipped across his desk, or if he’d simply tossed it aside.
No doubt, Patrick was sharp—he’d turned the Jordan Group’s fortunes around. He could repay the Kelley family’s billion-dollar loan if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to part with that cash flow. Smart money made more money.
So Noelle had suggested they divorce first, settle the finances later. She’d laid it all out plainly, making the agreement impossible to misunderstand.
When she finished, Patrick’s eyes went dark, cold and mocking. He couldn’t believe she actually wanted a divorce. This was some attention scheme—a way to make him look at her. A pampered heiress like her, waiting at the courthouse all morning? Please. This was just her newest act. Still, he had to admit—she’d upped the stakes this time. At least she’d produced an actual divorce agreement, dripping with fake sincerity.
Divorce... An inexplicable irritation itched at Patrick. Maybe it was the mountain of work on his desk. Or maybe it was Noelle being a nuisance, wasting his time. Either way, he shoved all his frustration onto her. “Do you see this desk? Do I look like I have time for your little games?”
“Games?” Noelle shot back with a cold laugh. “You’re the one who’s been playing me from day one.”
Patrick didn’t have a comeback.
“You used the Kelleys’ money to shut me out of your life. You took our investment to save your precious company, then blew the profits on Charley Jenkins, playing the big shot.” Her voice rose with every word. “Why didn’t I see sooner what a scumbag you were? Pay back that money, Mr. Jordan—and fast! Even if I threw a billion dollars at a gigolo, at least I’d get some happiness out of it.”
Patrick’s face burned crimson.
Elina Taylor—Patrick’s newly hired assistant—caught the entire scene while gathering files from the table, and a grudging respect for Noelle took root. The office gossip always said Noelle wasn’t good enough for Patrick. From where Elina stood, it looked like Patrick was the one who should be ashamed.
Watching the man she’d once revered like a god go silent gave Noelle no satisfaction. Instead, a heavy weight settled in her chest.
She’d been given a second chance at life, and she’d decided to let go of her first love. But that didn’t mean she could erase the scars on her heart. Letting go felt like slicing out a piece of her own soul—and only she knew how deep that wound went.
What Patrick had done to the Kelley family was just the tip of the iceberg compared to what he’d put her through. The memories came flooding back—every betrayal, every heartbreak. Noelle didn’t want to waste another second on Patrick, or the past.
“You still have time to reach the courthouse before the clerk's office closes,” she said, her voice steady.
Patrick’s face clouded over again. “No time.”
Usually, no matter what scheme Noelle cooked up, she’d cave eventually. The once-adored heiress was firmly under his thumb. The minute he stopped giving her attention, she ought to have known better than to push her luck. But this time, Noelle seemed dead set on seeing it through.
She pressed on. “I don’t care how busy you are. If you’re not at that courthouse this afternoon, the Kelley family’s debt starts accruing interest from today.”
Patrick scoffed. What else did she have besides money? This was all noise. She had no real intention of leaving him.
He shot back, a threat laced through his words. “Noelle, let me be clear: you’ll only see the Jordan Group strapped for cash once in your lifetime. I truly don’t have time for you. Keep pushing, and I’ll clear my schedule to finalize the divorce—and then there’ll be no one left for you to cry to.”
Noelle straightened her spine, resolute. If anyone was going to draw a line, it was her. She wouldn’t break down over him—she’d light up fireworks instead.
“You’re a grown man. Can’t you just be straight about the divorce? Or can’t the Jordan Group pay its debts?” Noelle demanded.
The shock in Patrick’s eyes was unmistakable, even as he tried to mask it. Had she lost her mind, challenging him head-on? He searched her face for any sign of regret—and found none.
Patrick, who had always held the upper hand, was suddenly off balance. “Who’s dragging their feet? You’re the one clinging to the title of Mrs. Jordan.”
Noelle rolled her eyes. She’d heard that line a thousand times.
Without missing a beat, she stood. “Got it—that title means nothing for you, it’s all about Charley Jenkins, right? Keep it. I’ll see you at the courthouse Monday afternoon.”
Patrick’s brow furrowed, annoyed. “I’m busy Monday.”
“Then next Monday afternoon,” Noelle offered, giving her final inch.
She knew there was a Jordan family event next Monday night. He’d magically find the time by then.
Last time, she’d watched Charley cling to Patrick’s arm at that same event—and it had cut her to the bone.
Patrick watched her with amusement, wondering how long she could genuinely keep this up. “Fine. Next Monday afternoon,” he agreed, a flicker of curiosity in his voice.
Noelle walked out with purpose. Her blouse and sleek high-waisted trousers made her legs look a mile long. Her red stilettos only added to her commanding presence—she could easily outshine any businesswoman in the room. Jordan Group employees couldn’t help but stare as she swept past.
Patrick was no exception. Later that night, his desk was still piled with untouched paperwork, his day utterly shot.
