He slapped his "worthless" wife and threw her into the rain—never realizing she was the billionaire heiress who secretly funded his entire life.

At seven o'clock the following morning, the storm had passed, leaving Chicago bathed in a crisp, blinding winter sunlight.

Inside Penthouse 4B, Victor Hayes woke up feeling like a king.

He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling bathroom mirror, smoothing his silk tie, admiring the tailored Italian suit he had bought three weeks ago on a company credit line.

Beside him on the marble vanity rested a gold watch—a gift to himself for the upcoming acquisition deal that would cement his position as Senior Vice President of Meridian BuildWorks.

Kendra Vale walked into the bathroom wearing a silk robe, two glasses of mimosa in her hands.

"You look like money, darling," Kendra purred, leaning against his shoulder and slipping one glass into his hand.

Victor took a sip, smiling at his reflection. "In eight hours, I won't just look like money, Kendra. I'll be running the entire commercial division. The board is ratifying the $120 million riverfront development contract at three thirty."

"And your little gray wife?" Kendra asked, sipping her drink with a malicious smirk. "Has she called begging to come back for her clothes yet?"

Victor scoffed, setting his glass down. "Olivia? Please. She’s probably sitting in some cheap diner in West Loop weeping into a paper cup of coffee. She has no family, no savings, and no backbone. By Wednesday, my lawyer will hand her a twenty-thousand-dollar divorce settlement, and she’ll sign it just to pay her rent."

"Eleanor was thrilled when I called her last night," Kendra added, tracing a manicured finger along his lapel. "She said we should throw a dinner party here on Friday to celebrate your promotion. She wants to redecorate the living room."

"Tell my mother she can hire whatever interior designer she wants," Victor smiled, kissing Kendra’s cheek. "The penthouse belongs to the future now."

He picked up his leather briefcase, stepped out of the apartment, and took the private elevator down to the lobby.

As he walked past the grand marble front desk, the building’s head concierge, a veteran named Frank who had worked there for ten years, looked up.

Usually, Frank offered a polite nod. Today, Frank stared at Victor with a strange, cold, almost pitying intensity.

"Morning, Frank!" Victor called out cheerfully, buttoning his suit jacket. "Great day for the city, isn't it?"

Frank didn't smile. He adjusted his glasses, looking at Victor as if he were a ghost already walking toward a graveyard.

"Good morning, Mr. Hayes," Frank said quietly. "A delivery arrived for you at six a.m. Private courier."

Frank slid a thick, cream-colored envelope across the marble counter. It bore no return address, only Victor’s name written in elegant, dark blue calligraphy.

Victor frowned, picking it up. "What is this? An invitation?"

"I suggest you read it in private, sir," Frank said smoothly, turning back to his computer log.

Victor shrugged, slipping the envelope into his briefcase. He stepped out onto the sunny sidewalk of Michigan Avenue, where his private company town car was waiting at the curb.

He climbed into the back seat, leaning back comfortably against the leather. "Meridian Headquarters on Wacker Drive, James. And take the river route. I want to look at my new project site."

As the car pulled out into the morning traffic, Victor popped open his briefcase and unsealed the cream envelope.

Inside rested a single sheet of heavy parchment paper.

It was a formal legal notice from Apex Properties LLC.

NOTICE OF LEASE TERMINATION AND IMMEDIATE EVICTION.

Dear Mr. Hayes,

Please be advised that your residential lease for Penthouse 4B at 880 N. Michigan Avenue has been revoked, effective 18:00 hours today, November 14th. All personal items must be removed by said time. All interior furnishings, artwork, and fixtures remain the exclusive property of the landlord.

Victor let out a loud, incredulous laugh. "Is this a joke?"

He pulled out his phone and frantically dialed his property manager. "Gary! What the hell is this notice I just got from Apex Properties?! I've lived in Penthouse 4B for six years!"

The property manager’s voice on the line sounded terrified. "Victor... I can't talk long. The corporate owners stepped in three hours ago. They executed a master audit of the unit's lease file."

"Audit?! What audit?!" Victor shouted. "Meridian pays the master lease!"

"That's the problem, Victor," Gary whispered. "Meridian doesn't pay the master lease. The lease was held under a private family trust. And the trust revoked your access ninety minutes ago. They've already changed the electronic key codes for six p.m."

Victor’s heart gave a sudden, uncomfortable thud. "Who owns the trust, Gary? Who is Apex Properties?!"