Divorced The Billionaire, Married His Boss

Chandler Gentry gripped the stem of her champagne flute. The condensation from the chilled glass slipped down the crystal, pooling in her palm like cold sweat. The muscles in her hand ached from how tightly she held it, but she needed the physical pain to ground her. The grand ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria was suffocating. The air was thick with the smell of expensive perfume, roasted meats, and the heavy, invisible weight of Manhattan's corporate elite. Her chest felt tight, her lungs struggling to pull in enough oxygen.

She stood in a dim corner near a towering floral arrangement, invisible to the crowd. She rose onto her tiptoes, straining her neck to scan the sea of tailored tuxedos and designer gowns, searching for Avery. A waiter carrying a heavy silver tray of hors d'oeuvres bumped hard into her shoulder. Chandler stumbled, her ankle twisting slightly in her four-inch heels. Champagne sloshed over the rim of her glass, splashing onto her wrist. The cold liquid made her shiver.

She steadied herself against the wall. When she looked up, the heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open. Avery Osborn stepped inside. He wore a custom charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. The moment he entered, the ambient noise in the room seemed to shift, heads turning to acknowledge the heir to the Osborn media empire.

Chandler took a step forward, her lips parting to call his name. Then, her feet froze to the carpet. Pinned to Avery's side was Corinne Vance, his stunningly beautiful business partner. Corinne wore a backless emerald gown that clung to her curves.

Corinne leaned in, her red lips brushing against Avery's ear as she whispered something. Avery did not pull away. Instead, he tilted his head closer to hers. The corner of his mouth lifted into a soft, genuine smile-a smile Chandler had not seen directed at her in over a year.

A sharp cramp twisted Chandler's stomach. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Around her, she heard the low murmurs of the guests. "Look at them. The golden couple of Wall Street." "They are perfect together." The words felt like physical blows to her ribs. She could not breathe. She turned away from the ballroom doors, her heels clicking rapidly against the marble floor as she practically ran toward the secluded hallway leading to the restrooms.

The air in the hallway was significantly colder. It hit her flushed face, bringing a harsh clarity to her racing mind. Her hands shook violently as she pulled her phone from her clutch. She opened her messages and typed a text to Avery. When are you done? Can we go home? She hit send. She stared at the screen until it went dark. No reply.

Ten minutes passed. The silence of the hallway was broken by the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps. Chandler looked up. Avery stood at the end of the corridor, his cold, gray eyes locked onto hers.

Chandler pushed herself off