Chapter 2 The Thirty Billion Heiress

"What?" Kingston's thick brows furrowed in deep bewilderment as the sheer absurdity of the word registered in his mind. He scoffed inwardly, unconvinced by her sudden outburst. He looked at her standing amidst the shattered glass, a dark suspicion swirling in his chest. This had to be another manipulative stunt she concocted early in the morning, right after allegedly drugging him the night before.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" he interrogated, his voice a low rumble of sheer disbelief.

Rowena refused to back down. Instead of retreating from his suffocating presence, she held her ground. She stared directly at him with a chilling, unyielding resolve. The cautious, fragile facade she had maintained for years evaporated in a blink. Her imposing aura suddenly matched his dominant presence perfectly, filling the tense space between them with a heavy, unshakeable pressure.

"Haven't you dreamed of getting a divorce for three years?" she coldly reminded him, her tone remarkably steady. "Your grandfather was the only person who coerced you into this marriage. Now that he is no longer alive, there is no one left to stop you. Don't you want to give Bianca her rightful status?"

Kingston pursed his lips, scrutinizing her solemn, dead-serious gaze. She didn't look like a woman playing games or throwing a desperate tantrum. A cynical amusement crossed his handsome features. He snorted softly, refusing to believe she would willingly relinquish her hard-won title.

"I hope you don't regret your decision," he issued a dark warning, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

Rowena immediately retaliated with a sharp sneer. The bitter irony twisted her pale lips. "The only thing I regret in life is marrying you in the first place."

Without waiting for his reaction, she spun on her heel and strode away. She walked out of the master bedroom, leaving the shattered glass and the suffocating marriage behind. Her posture was straight, looking fiercely resolute.

Kingston remained frozen in place. His dark eyes fixated on her retreating back, processing the sudden shift in her demeanor. The subservient wife was gone. A seed of doubt planted itself in his mind. He briefly wondered if he had genuinely, falsely accused her of the previous night's drugging incident. If she wanted him so desperately, why walk away with such cold finality? But who else could have done it?

Later that very morning, the two arrived at City Hall to finalize the procedure.

Rowena dressed in cheap, nondescript street clothes. The faded fabric stood in stark contrast to Kingston, who was clad in a pristine, immaculate Prada suit that commanded immediate attention. Whispers and curious glances followed them through the echoing halls, visually separating the mismatched couple. Despite the glaring disparity, Rowena ignored the onlookers. Her mind focused solely on ending this pathetic farce once and for all.

In a remarkably brief ten minutes, the miserable three-year marriage was legally terminated. A few quick signatures severed the tie that had bound her to endless neglect and humiliation.

Rowena stood in the grand lobby, staring down at the dark green divorce certificate in her hands. She fell into a momentary trance. Three years of youthful devotion, reduced to a single piece of paper.

"You are on your own henceforth."

Kingston's dispassionate, icy voice drifted into her ears, cutting through her silent reflection. He coldly delivered his final verdict. By the time Rowena lifted her head to reply, the man had already vanished into thin air without a shred of hesitation. He didn't offer a second glance or a parting word.

Shaking her head, she chuckled softly to herself. The empty space beside her felt oddly liberating. She accepted that his callousness was for the best, cementing the fact that they would be mere strangers the next time they crossed paths.

Rowena gathered her meager belongings and walked out through the heavy glass doors. She stepped onto the bustling roadside, the bright morning sun warming her chilled skin. Before she could even hail a cab, a sleek, globally limited-edition black Bentley glided smoothly to a halt right in front of her. The tires barely made a sound against the asphalt.

The rear car doors opened. A gray-haired butler named Barnes stepped out. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and carried a distinguished air. He respectfully approached her under the tight escort of four towering, broad-shouldered bodyguards. The imposing men quickly formed a subtle perimeter, shielding them from prying eyes.

Upon seeing the familiar crest on Barnes' lapel, Rowena instinctively jerked her chin up. Her shoulders squared. In an instant, the meek demeanor she wore in Riverstone vanished, her entire posture instantly imbued with an innate, commanding regality.

"Dad is well-informed," she coldly remarked, her gaze sweeping over the polished vehicle. "He came knocking the precise moment my divorce was finalized. Excellent surveillance."

Barnes bowed deeply, flashing an ingratiating smile that didn't quite reach his shrewd eyes. "Ms. Vance," he began politely, his voice smooth and calculated. "Your three-year pact with your father is officially up."

He paused, his eyes briefly flicking down to the divorce certificate gripped in her hand. "Since you failed to make Kingston Thorne fall in love with you, you must honor your promise. It is time to return to Oakmont and inherit the massive Vance family business."

Rowena fell into a heavy silence. The mention of Oakmont dragged her mind back to a past she rarely entertained. She remembered the blinding terror at fifteen, the brutal sabotage that stripped away her memories and left her abandoned in a Riverstone orphanage. She remembered pulling a battered Alistair Thorne from the wreckage of a car crash, an act of sheer grit that earned her a place in the Thorne family.

She had lived a borrowed life until her wedding night with Kingston. That was the night a sudden accident knocked her true memories loose. She remembered who she was: the missing heiress to a vast empire. Yet, foolish, naive love had anchored her to Riverstone. She had chosen to stay for a man who despised her, sealing a ridiculous three-year pact with her father just for a chance at Kingston's heart.

Now, standing on the pavement with a divorce paper in hand, she viewed those three years as a tragic waste of time.

Her expression turned decidedly icy. She looked Barnes dead in the eye. "The Vance family doesn't lack my presence. My father has his other companions, and I am far from needed there."

"Mr. Vance misses you greatly," Barnes pressed, though his smile faltered slightly. "Do not be angry with him."

"I have important, unfinished business in Riverstone," Rowena interrupted, her voice brooking no argument. Secretly, she was investigating the hidden culprit within the Vance Group. Someone powerful had orchestrated the sabotage that caused her amnesia all those years ago. The enemy remained in the shadows. Returning openly to Oakmont now would put a massive target on her back, plunging her into grave danger.

Barnes sighed, his shoulders dropping a fraction. He fully acknowledged the deep-seated grudge she harbored, recognizing the stubborn glint in her eyes. It was a trait she inherited directly from her father.

"Very well," Barnes conceded with utmost respect. He reached into his breast pocket and produced a sleek, metallic card. He presented her with a supreme Centurion Card, the gold surface catching the sunlight. "This holds your personal fortune. Thirty billion, not a single cent less."

Rowena stared at the card. It was a tangible piece of the world she had left behind.

Subsequently, Barnes waved his hand at the imposing bodyguards standing like statues behind him. Prompted by the signal, one of the massive men swiftly stepped forward, handing a new contract to Rowena.