I Dumped My Fake-Poor Billionaire Husband

Chapter 6

I thought Ethan Sinclair would disappear after I snapped.

But no—he turned up outside my office every evening like clockwork, flowers in hand, playing the same tired act.

My coworkers whispered, curious about the mystery admirer.

I smiled as I tossed the bouquet into the trash. "Just a ghost from my past."

A decent ex should stay six feet under.

Then he upped the ante—showing up at my apartment with expensive gifts. The jewelry box alone screamed luxury.

I didn't even open it. Just hurled it straight out the window.

Ethan's face crumpled like it actually hurt. After that, the gifts stopped coming.

A small victory—brief and quiet.

Not long after, my company announced layoffs. My name was on the list.

I didn't wait around. To shake off Ethan's shadow, I packed up and moved back to my hometown.

When my mom found out about the divorce, she didn't flinch. "Some people are just bad chapters. You closed the book—good for you."

She was worried I'd spiral, so she cooked all my favorite meals—daily. By the end of the week, I was five pounds heavier and finally sleeping through the night.

I started job hunting and eventually landed a position as a jewelry designer—something I'd given up on after college for "stability."

I didn't expect my new boss to be Vincent Hawthorne—my high school classmate.

He hadn't changed much. Still calm, still warm, still the guy who made you feel seen even in a crowded room.

He trusted me with more than just design work—he let me run the whole studio. I was busy, fulfilled, and for the first time in a long while, happy.

Sometimes, we grabbed dinner after work. Vincent never made things awkward. He talked to me like an equal, not an employee. Like a friend. Maybe something more.

Everything was going well—until Ethan came storming back into my life.

He showed up at the studio, seething. "So this is the real reason you rejected me?"

Then he sneered at Vincent. "This guy? He's not even fit to shine my shoes."

I saw red.

"Don't you dare talk about him like that. Vincent is ten times the man you'll ever be. You? You're nothing but a selfish, arrogant fraud. All you've ever had is money—and not even that can make you decent."

Ethan's face darkened. "I'll ask one last time. Will you remarry me?"

I laughed in his face.

Even now, he acted like he was doing me a favor.

"Ethan, let me make this crystal clear: I wouldn't take you back if you were the last man on Earth."

He scoffed. "Don't kid yourself. You think any other guy wants damaged goods? I owned you for three years—"

Vincent punched him mid-sentence.

Hard.

Blood trickled from Ethan's lip as he staggered back, stunned. "You hit me?"

Vincent didn't even speak—he hit him again.

Ethan, all bark and no bite, crumpled like wet paper under Vincent's blows.

Worried Ethan might pull something later, I tugged Vincent back.

Ethan, ever delusional, mistook it for concern.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said coldly. Then I stomped hard on his hand for good measure.

He howled.

I took Vincent's arm and walked away without looking back.

Outside, guilt tugged at me as I noticed the bruise forming on Vincent's cheek. "I'm so sorry… I'll grab some medicine—"

He just shook his head. "It's nothing. It'll heal."

I looked down, heart twisting.

Then he nudged me lightly and said, "If he ever bothers you again, just tell me. I'll knock him out again. He clearly can't fight."

I laughed. Couldn't help it.

Vincent smiled too—calm and steady, like always.

But Ethan still didn't get the message.

He came to my house next. My mom chased him off with a broom.

Undeterred, he pulled his final stunt—kneeling outside my door, claiming he'd stay there until I took him back.

Pathetic. And honestly? A little sad.

But mostly pathetic.