Patrick Jordan was taken aback by her words. Divorce? Was Noelle actually serious?

He frowned, disbelief plastered across his face. "Noelle, what kind of game are you playing now?"

Noelle met his gaze with unsettling calm, void of any love or anger. "I'm serious, Patrick."

"Seriously?" Patrick let out a mocking laugh. "You schemed with the Carrolls and the Palmers to bring the Jordan Group to its knees just so you could marry me? Borrowed money—sure, the Jordan Group is nearly back on its feet—and even though I never liked you, I've treated you like royalty. And now you're asking for a divorce?"

A bitter smile tugged at Noelle's lips. Once, she would never have dreamed of divorce.

"Patrick, believe it or not, I didn't orchestrate the downfall of your company."

In their past life, it had been the same—his conviction that she'd married him for ulterior motives clouded his judgment. How else to explain that only the Kelley family had the funds when it mattered? The truth was, Noelle's grandfather had simply prepared wisely, keeping the Kelley Group's finances strong. But no matter what she said, Patrick never believed her.

A billion dollars could buy anyone's loyalty, yet lending it to Patrick had bought her nothing but an unpaid debt.

Back then, Noelle had naively believed in the power of persistence. But a heartless man would never warm, no matter how much care she poured into him. She would never win the heart of a man whose affections were parked elsewhere.

At this point, she was still healthy—free from cancer, untouched by the stress Patrick and Charley Jenkins had dragged her through. Having once suffered a fate worse than death, this time she was determined not to repeat the same mistakes.

Patrick scoffed at her reasoning. In business, it was simple: follow the money to find the mastermind.

After everything, neither the Carrolls nor the Palmers gained any real benefit; the only one who truly profited was Noelle. If it wasn't her, then who could it be?

Explanations were pointless—and unnecessary.

Noelle glanced around the room, silently bidding farewell to the house she'd called home for years. Then, with quiet resolve, she declared, "I've had enough of being Mrs. Jordan. I'm leaving! If you think the Jordan Group has rebounded, then repay the loan and file for divorce. Seriously!"

Patrick snorted. He still didn't buy that Noelle meant to leave for good. Did she think he was bluffing about the company's recovery? A billion dollars was a lot, sure, but repaying the Kelley family was doable.

Slamming the door behind him, Patrick stormed out…

Noelle called Uncle Henry, the Kelley family chauffeur, asking him to pick her up from the Jordan residence. Hearing his familiar voice brought tears of relief to her eyes. In her previous life, after the Kelley family fell, Patrick had forbidden anyone in town from helping anyone associated with the Kelleys. Soon after, Noelle lost contact with Uncle Henry.

Later, when Noelle was diagnosed with cancer and visited her grandfather's grave, she saw Uncle Henry—dragging a half-lame leg—laying flowers on her grandfather's plot. After the family's decline, Henry struggled to find work until Charley vouched for him, letting him haul props for a film crew. That day, heavy rain made the roads slick. Even when it meant breaking traffic laws, the crew insisted Henry deliver the props on time—leading to the accident.

Afterwards, his amputation left him without a livelihood. Remembering all that hardship, Noelle couldn't help but feel a deep pang of gratitude for the chance to ride in a car driven by Uncle Henry once more.

Mrs. Smith, the Jordan family's housekeeper, spotted Noelle dragging her suitcase down the stairs and hurried over to ask, "Ma'am, are you heading out?"

Noelle replied coolly, "I'm going back to the Kelleys."

Mrs. Smith had always been kind to Noelle, though her loyalty ultimately lay with Patrick. She asked, concern lacing her voice, "Does Mr. Jordan know?"

She had just seen Patrick storm off in a huff. Could the couple have quarreled again?

"He knows."

Mrs. Smith helped Noelle with her suitcase and guided her toward the car. "Couples have spats, ma'am. Don't take it too hard. Come back soon."

Noelle wouldn't be returning. "This isn't a small quarrel; we've always had problems. This marriage itself was a huge mistake."

Facing illness and the threat of death had taught her the value of letting go. From now on, she wouldn't cling to Patrick Jordan.

She believed there were many ways to live this life.

Mrs. Smith pressed on, "Mr. Jordan is just being prideful—don't let it get to you."

Noelle's lips curved slightly, but she said nothing more.

It wasn't just pride—in her past life, she had loved him with everything she had. This time, she wouldn't let anyone trample her heart again!

Mrs. Smith watched the car disappear down the road, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest. Would the lady of the house really not come back?

*

The next morning, Patrick received a divorce agreement from the Kelleys' legal team.

Ha—

This woman was impulsive. The Jordan Group did have the liquid assets to repay a billion dollars. But they had a larger project underway that needed initial funding, and he didn't want to dip into those reserves.

He tossed the agreement aside without noticing that Noelle had already signed it—including a note. To expedite the divorce, Noelle suggested they finalize it before settling the debt, and stated she'd be at the courthouse at 10 AM to meet him.

The next morning, Noelle arrived at the district courthouse precisely at ten. She sat on the cold wooden bench outside the clerk's office, the signed paperwork resting on her lap.

Eleven o'clock came and went. She dialed Patrick's number three times, only to be sent straight to voicemail. When she opened her messaging app, a red exclamation point confirmed he had blocked her entirely.

He was playing the same petty game he always did.

Tucking the folder under her arm, Noelle walked out into the midday glare and slipped into the back of the car. "Uncle Henry," she said coldly, "drive me to the Jordan Group."

Annabelle had always been one of Patrick Jordan's admirers—unfortunately for her, she had never managed to win his heart. To Patrick, she was simply a capable employee whose value he could exploit. Annabelle dressed for attention as often as she dressed for the office, favoring blouses so fitted that the buttons looked ready to give. She was sharp and competent at work, but hopelessly naive when it came to men.

Patrick clearly preferred the Charley Jenkins type—and later, Elina Taylor—women who fit the modest, understated mold he liked. Annabelle's blatant seduction attempts, complete with those overworked shirt buttons, only made her less appealing in his eyes.

Of course, Noelle Kelley wasn't exactly in a position to judge Annabelle's lack of self-awareness. Even though she understood Patrick's preferences perfectly, she'd never been able to capture his attention either. Patrick's disdain for her wasn't something she could just charm away with a few kind gestures.

Standing with her back ramrod straight and a dismissive look on her face, Annabelle said to Noelle, "Mr. Jordan is busy. He's not seeing anyone right now."

Annabelle had joined the Jordan Group straight out of college and quickly climbed her way into Patrick's favor. From the moment she started working for him, she'd been well aware of Noelle Kelley—the pampered heiress supposedly head-over-heels for Patrick. Noelle, a student at a top university, never took her studies seriously. She'd skip class to show up at Patrick's office, just to gawk at the handsome executive. She'd pressured him into marriage, then dropped out entirely to become a full-time housewife.

To Annabelle, a devoted career woman, being a housewife was the ultimate cop-out. All that talk about doing it for the family or the kids? Excuses. Pure laziness. Despite Noelle's money and background, Annabelle saw her as nothing more than a frivolous homemaker. Noelle had supposedly wasted her days on dusting and on remembering whether Patrick liked his steak medium-rare or well-done. Annabelle dismissed that as pointless domestic fussing. Did she really think a woman's worth could be measured by how well she cooked a steak? Noelle might never have run a kitchen, but that hardly made her less capable than a Michelin-starred chef.

Annabelle thought Noelle was just a pretty face, riding on her youth and looks. No wonder Patrick wasn't interested.

Adjusting her sunglasses, Noelle shot Annabelle a wide smile. She hadn't seen her in a while. But Annabelle's reign wouldn't last—soon, Elina Taylor would swoop in and take her spot as Patrick's favorite assistant. Facing someone like Annabelle, who was only tough on the surface, Noelle stepped forward. She was done being pushed around. "Patrick may not like me," she said coolly, "but he still has to treat me with respect. You don't have the authority to stop me, Annabelle."

In the old days, Noelle would've been terrified of Annabelle because of her close ties to Patrick. She'd worried that ticking off Annabelle would only make Patrick despise her more. As a result, even Patrick's other secretaries had felt bold enough to disrespect Noelle. Annabelle's sneers mirrored Noelle's own regret—the regret of throwing away good opportunities for a love that was never reciprocated.

Caught off guard by Noelle's sudden assertiveness, Annabelle frowned. Who did Noelle think she was? Just because Patrick married her, she thought she was queen of the Jordan Group? Dream on.

Annabelle's voice turned stern. "I only answer to Mr. Jordan. If you want, you can try your luck with the security guards upstairs."

She was confident Patrick would never scold her for blocking his wife. Noelle meant nothing to him.

Noelle raised an eyebrow.

Was that a threat? Too bad for Annabelle—Noelle was over Patrick. His little minions didn't scare her anymore.

"Annabelle," Noelle said slyly, stepping closer, "you might stop a wife from seeing her husband. But let me ask you something." Her tone was light, almost playful. "I've heard that executive-level secretaries here are supposed to have a graduate degree. Is it true that you bought your MBA certificate, Annabelle?"

Annabelle's face went white. Her skin prickled with panic.

How... how did she know?

She'd never told anyone. Not even her parents, who were still back home bragging about their daughter's fancy degree. How had Noelle—the woman she'd always pegged as naive—stumbled onto a secret like this?

At a university recruitment fair, Annabelle had been hooked on Patrick at first sight. She'd spent heavily to obtain the credentials she needed, making sure she could land a position close to him. She'd worked her ass off to become head secretary. And if Patrick ever found out her credentials were fake... would he ever forgive her?

Annabelle couldn't afford that risk.

Her voice shook with fury and humiliation. "Have you been investigating me?"

"Aha," Noelle smiled. "So it's true."

She remembered how, when Elina eventually ousted Annabelle, rumors had floated around that Elina had uncovered evidence of Annabelle's fake credentials. But hardly anyone believed it. Annabelle's work performance was solid—matched her supposed education perfectly. Who would suspect the head secretary of such a glaring vulnerability?

After years of juggling work and study, anyone should have been able to earn a legitimate degree. Why risk everything on a fake one?

But Noelle believed it.

Annabelle's packed schedule left zero room for part-time classes. Lucky for Noelle, her guess had been spot-on.

"..." Annabelle realized, too late, that she'd been outsmarted by the woman she'd considered a fool.

"Move!" Noelle shoved Annabelle aside, her voice ice-cold. "If you block me again, I'll tell Patrick about your fake degree. But if you cooperate with me? Maybe I'll let it slide."

A threat? Two could play that game.

Annabelle clenched her fists, but she couldn't stop Noelle as she marched toward Patrick's office.

Just before entering, Noelle turned back and winked at Annabelle, tossing out a piece of advice. "Annabelle, when you have time, go earn that graduate certificate. Just because I won't expose you doesn't mean someone else won't. Patrick will only ever see you as a workhorse. Stop building your life around men. Investing in yourself is the real answer."

Those words were as much for herself as they were for Annabelle.

Not that Annabelle saw it that way. To her, it was just another threat.

Back at her desk, Annabelle buried herself in work. She couldn't let her guard down—the second she did, the junior secretaries would snatch her position. She had to find a way to make sure Noelle kept her secret. Did that mean she had to obey Noelle's every order? Annabelle wasn't buying it.

*

Patrick heard the door open and assumed it was his secretary. "Just leave the signed documents on my desk."

"It's me."

Patrick looked up from his work, his gaze landing on Noelle with obvious disapproval. "Who let you in?"

His distaste was written all over his face. He was about to dismiss her when Noelle spoke up.

“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.