Audrey Perry calmly stated, "Cecelia," not wasting a moment to point out someone who had vexed her.
With confident strides, she crossed the room and settled into a chair opposite Cohen Howell, her chic outfit—a cropped ensemble—revealing just a hint of her slim waist, inevitably drawing attention. Exuding youthful energy, she lounged with crossed legs. "I told you to meet me at the courthouse at ten for our divorce. Where were you?"
Cohen was momentarily taken aback. Was this the same wife he had dismissed so often at home? Audrey now exuded the confident poise of a woman who knew her own value. It felt as though she was speaking not to the husband she once revered but to someone she now commanded.
He sensed that something fundamental about Audrey had changed. The deference and resentment that once characterized her were gone, replaced by the vibrant, self-assured woman he initially met. Back then, Audrey was the bright socialite who turned heads effortlessly. Unfortunately, her lack of confidence made her seem unfit for the elite circles he frequented.
Cohen rubbed his temples, weary. "Audrey, I don't have time for this nonsense."
"Who said anything about nonsense?" Audrey replied earnestly.
She wondered if Cohen had ever truly read the divorce papers she'd sent or even glanced at the accompanying note. While he excelled in business, having revived the Howell Group to profitability, returning the $1 billion owed to the Perry family would likely stretch the company's liquidity to the breaking point. Cohen probably had no intention of repaying it.
"No businessman wants idle money," Audrey reflected, so she made her terms straightforward: first the divorce, then settle the account.
She laid out her conditions clearly, summarizing the contents of the divorce agreement. As soon as she finished, Cohen's eyes turned as cold as ice. Deep down, he didn't believe she genuinely wanted a divorce. To him, this was just another ploy to get his attention, a new act in her ongoing drama to win his affection. How could a pampered heiress have the resolve to wait at the courthouse for him?
Yet, he had to admit her current approach seemed far more sophisticated than her past attempts—she even had the divorce papers ready, after all. It was convincing, certainly.
Divorce... The idea inexplicably irritated Cohen. Surely, it was the stress of his workload and her unexpected visit that caused this agitation.
Pointing at the heap of documents on his desk, he retorted, "Do you think I have time to entertain this?"
"This isn't a game," Audrey responded with a scornful laugh. "If anyone's been playing games in this marriage, it's you!"
Cohen had no comeback.
"You used the Perry family's money to treat me with cold indifference," she continued, her voice filled with frustration. "You revived Howell Group with our funds and then wasted money on Cleo Hall, playing the generous benefactor to her aspiring actress."
Audrey's tone grew more heated. "How did I not see your treacherous heart sooner? Mr. Howell, I suggest you find a way to pay back the money. I could easily blow $1 billion on some playboy just for fun!"
Her words hit hard, leaving Cohen speechless. Audrey's outburst was witnessed by Kenna, Cohen's recently hired assistant, who quietly gathered the documents from his desk, internally acknowledging the change in Mrs. Howell. Company gossip claimed the young Mrs. Howell was beneath Cohen, but now it seemed he was the one who had wronged her.
Even as she verbally dismantled someone she once idolized, Audrey felt little satisfaction; rather, her own words left her with a sense of heaviness. Returning to the past, she was prepared to let go of her first love, yet it still felt like tearing away a piece of her soul—a pain only she understood.
The injustices Cohen inflicted on the Perry family were only partly voiced; merely a fraction made him uneasy. Yet, she had endured far more.
"There's still time to finalize the divorce this afternoon," Audrey emphasized.
Cohen's expression remained clouded. "I'm busy."
By now, Audrey should have been silent. The former socialite, once so easy to manipulate, knew not to push her luck when he was displeased. However, she seemed resolute in seeing this through. "Whether you're busy or not, if you're not at the courthouse this afternoon, interest on the $1 billion starts today."
Cohen sneered. Money—was that her only weapon? It was all an act. She wasn't serious about the divorce.
His voice tinged with threat, he warned, "Remember, Audrey, you'll only have one shot in this lifetime to see Howell Group's cash flow dry up. I'm genuinely busy, but if you keep pushing, I'll make time to divorce you, and you'll have nowhere left to cry."
Audrey stood firm, holding her ground. "You also only have one chance to see me fall flat. Better make time! I won't cry; I'll celebrate with fireworks."
"Could you stop dragging this out like a man and settle Howell's debt?" Audrey challenged earnestly.
Cohen's shock was evident. Had she gone mad, standing her ground against him like this? He scrutinized her face, searching for any sign of regret, but found none.
In this relationship, Cohen had always held the upper hand. Agitated, he accused, "Who's dragging this out? You've just been clinging to the title of Howell's wife!"
A sentiment that wasn't new to Audrey.
Rising, she offered a quick retort, "I get it—Howell's wife is Cleo Hall's role, isn't it? Well, take it then, the title's all yours. Monday, at two in the afternoon, see you at the courthouse!"
Cohen frowned in irritation. "I'm busy Monday afternoon!"
"Fine, next Monday afternoon," Audrey countered, making her final concession. She recalled Howell's family was hosting a dinner that evening; Cohen would surely clear his schedule before it. Cleo Hall had once clung to Cohen at such a dinner, leaving Audrey humiliated.
With the date set, Cohen watched her leave, curious about how far she'd take this act. "Alright, next Monday afternoon!" he agreed.
As Audrey departed, her sleek cropped top highlighted her long, lean legs in fitted jeans, red stilettos clicking sharply, exuding a confidence that rivaled any professional woman. As she passed, Howell employees couldn't help but notice the change in the young Mrs. Howell, and neither could Cohen.
Late into the night, his desk remained buried under paperwork—left undone after an entire day...
