He Divorced Me, So I Destroyed His Empire.

Mia POV

"Sign it."

Four years of marriage... reduced to a single command.

Tyler slid the divorce papers across the mahogany table like he was closing a business deal.

I stared at the crisp white pages, my name printed in bold at the top. Mia D'Stone, soon to be just Mia again. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Did you hear me?" His voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and impatient. "Sign the papers, Mia. Let's not drag this out."

I looked up at him. The man I'd spent four years building up, financing, and supporting. Tyler D'Stone sat across from me in his tailored Tom Ford suit, the one I'd bought him for our third anniversary. His jaw was set, his eyes cold.

"You're not even going to pretend this hurts you?" I asked, my voice eerily calm.

"We're adults, Mia. This is business." He had the audacity to look annoyed. “I don’t do emotional decisions, Mia. I do profitable ones.”

Business.

Four years of my life spent playing the supportive wife while he built an empire on my money, and he called it business.

"Right." I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. "Business. How could I forget?"

The lawyer, some slick forty-something in a gray suit, cleared his throat. "Mrs. D'Stone, if you'd like to review the settlement terms..."

"Oh, I'll review them." I pulled the papers closer, flipping through each page with deliberate slowness. "Unlike some people, I actually read what I sign."

Tyler's fingers drummed against the table. Always so impatient.

"There's nothing complicated about it," he said. "You keep the house in Portland and I keep D'Stone Construction. It’s a clean split."

Clean split, as if our marriage was something that could be divided down the middle like a piece of property.

"And Samantha?" The name tasted like poison on my tongue. "Where does she fit into this clean split?"

His face didn't even flicker. No shame. No guilt. Nothing. "Samantha's father is investing in the new downtown project," he said, like that explained and justified everything. "It's a significant opportunity for the company."

"Ah." I nodded slowly, my nails tapping against the paper. "So you're upgrading. Trading up for a newer model with better connections."

"Don't be crude, Mia."

The man was divorcing me for his mistress and I was being crude.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the papers in his smug face and watch him scramble. But I didn't. Because four years had taught me something valuable. Control was everything.

"You're right," I said smoothly. "I apologize. This is business, after all."

The lawyer shifted uncomfortably, probably due to the tension. "Shall we proceed with the signatures?"

"By all means." I picked up the gold pen, the one Tyler had given me on our first anniversary. Another irony.

I read every single line. The house in Portland. The cars. The joint accounts, split fifty-fifty. And there, buried in the middle of page seven, the