The Ex-Wife's Private Collection

My husband, Chase, wasn't just a freeloading gold digger—he was an ungrateful one. Not long after our wedding, he managed to hook up with the sole heiress of a multi-billion-dollar empire. He threw the divorce papers right in my face. "Your family's pathetic little company? I've outgrown it." I smiled, gracefully stepped aside, and made a single phone call: "Ms. Vance, that rare piece you were eyeing earlier? It's finally on the market." A languid, dangerous voice came through the receiver. "Clean it up first. I only collect... pristine specimens." "Mia, we're getting a divorce," Chase said, cutting straight to the chase without a shred of guilt. "I'm in love with Lauren. She can actually give me the future I deserve." "Your dad's firm is obsolete. It's living in the stone age. But the Sterling Group is on a whole different level." I stared at him, suddenly finding the entire situation laughably absurd. "So, your justification for cheating is that my family's business lacks growth potential?" "Don't make it sound so ugly," Lauren purred, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet condescension. "When feelings fade, they fade. Chase settling for you was a downgrade to begin with." "Besides a bit of cash, what do you actually bring to the table? How are you worthy of him?" "Mia, sweetie, you should be thanking me. I'm the one who opened his eyes to reality and gave him the chance to conquer a bigger world." I trembled with rage. This man had lived off my family's dime for six straight years. Now, side by side with his side piece, he had the audacity to claim our silver platter wasn't shiny enough. This wasn't just shameless mooching. This was biting the hand that fed him, then trying to chop it off. "Chase, my parents treated you like their own son. Is this how you repay them?" I pointed an accusing finger at him. Chase furrowed his brows, his face twisted in annoyance. "Leave the elders out of this. It's between you and me. Bottom line—are you signing, or not?" "And if I say no?" Lauren let out a sharp, mocking laugh. She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a document, and slapped it against my chest. "This is an official notice of intent to terminate all vendor contracts between Sterling Group and your firm. "Refuse to sign the divorce papers, and this lands on your father's desk first thing tomorrow morning. "Do you really think that dusty antique shop of a company can survive a blow like this?" I picked up the document. The terms were brutally clear. It was pure, unadulterated extortion. They were holding my family's lifeline hostage, all to force me to bless their twisted love story. Seeing the blood drain from my face, Chase finally cracked a smug grin. "Give it up, Mia." "Sign the papers, and you can keep the suburban house and the Mercedes in the garage. Let's make this clean." I stared into his completely shameless eyes. Whatever lingering warmth I once held in my heart shattered into dust. "Deal," I heard myself say. "I hope you two deserve each other." I turned, shut the door in their faces, and immediately dialed a private number. "Ms. Vance, that piece you said you wanted? It's finally on the market." Chase had the kind of face that felt like a divine cheat code. Back in college, nine out of ten girls would have thrown themselves at his feet for a chance to buy him dinner. In the end, he picked me. Not because I was the prettiest, but because my family was the wealthiest. We ran a legacy manufacturing business. Right after graduation, he slid into a cushy, do-nothing vice director role at my dad's firm. He drove the Porsche I paid for and lived in the penthouse under my name. For six whole years, he lived the high life on my tab. I actually believed he would ride that gravy train until my dad retired, until we grew old and gray. Little did I know, he was busy scouting for a bigger meal ticket. Lauren Sterling. The only daughter of Chairman Sterling, our firm's biggest client.The woman on the other end of the line was Victoria Vance. In elite venture capital circles, she was an absolute myth. More than half the names on the Forbes list danced to her tune behind closed doors. She harbored a very peculiar obsession. She didn't care for diamonds, nor did she collect rare antiquities. What she collected were exceptional human specimens. Not in some crude, illicit ring. Her twisted pleasure lay in breaking excessively arrogant, handsome men, reducing them to flawless, eternally obedient works of art displayed in her private estate. I had crossed paths with her at an exclusive, ultra-private gala. At the time, Chase was in a VIP booth, shamelessly laughing and schmoozing with Lauren's father. Meanwhile, I, his lawful wife, had been pushed aside to a shadowy corner. Victoria had sat down next to me. Swirling a glass of red wine, her gaze drifted past me, locking onto Chase across the room. "Your husband has decent raw material," she had murmured smoothly. "A pity he's been fattened into something so greasy. He's lost his edge." I had written it off as casual cocktail banter. Yet, after the gala, her chief of staff tracked me down and handed me an embossed business card. "Ms. Vance mentioned that if you ever decide to dispose of this particular piece, you may contact her. "She will offer a price you cannot refuse, along with an entirely new trajectory for your career." I had clutched that card, cold sweat pooling in my palms. I honestly thought I would never make that call. Yet Chase and Lauren had shoved me to the absolute edge of the cliff. Rather than jumping off and smashing to pieces, I decided to drag them down with me, so they could witness what real hell looked like. "Excellent," Victoria's voice drifted back, laced with a faint, amused purr. "Strip him bare of your ties first. Don't let him arrive dragging baggage from his ex. I only take pristine specimens." "My assistant will iron out the terms with you." Less than a minute after the line went dead, an unknown number rang. It was Victoria's assistant. "Ms. Lin, regarding the acquisition of Mr. Chase Miller, Ms. Vance offers the following terms: "First, a wire transfer of fifty million dollars as your finder's fee." The breath caught in my throat. "Second, Ms. Vance will inject equity capital into your father's firm and open her premier supply-chain networks to overhaul your manufacturing line. "The condition: you must take a seat on the board and serve as the lead executive for the new venture." This wasn't just about money anymore. She was handing me a golden scepter, launching me into the stratosphere. "Third," the assistant's voice remained flat and mechanical. "Regarding the Sterling Group—Ms. Vance despises anyone throwing their weight around on her turf. You won't need to worry about them." I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white. Victoria didn't merely want Chase the man. She wanted the complete, unadulterated thrill of the hunt and curation. And I was the curator clearing the path for her private exhibit. "What do I need to do?" I asked. "It's simple," the assistant replied. "Make sure he walks into Ms. Vance's gallery entirely of his own free will."It took me just three days to wrap up the divorce. Having gotten his wish, Chase immediately sprinted to city hall to register his marriage with Lauren. The Sterling family rewarded his efforts, appointing him executive vice president of their conglomerate—a dazzling leap of status. Their wedding was a lavish, over-the-top affair blasted all over social media. I didn't attend. I simply sent them a housewarming gift. I anonymously compiled an explosive dossier of Chase's parasitic history with my family—complete with screenshots, dates, and receipts detailing how he groveled to my parents and begged me to buy him luxury sports cars and Swiss watches. I blasted it out to every major news outlet and top gossip account on Twitter. The headline practically wrote itself: The Ultimate Gold-Digging Son-in-Law: Trading Up from the Lins to the Sterlings, Shameless to the Bone. Overnight, Chase became the city's laughingstock. His reputation as a mercenary boy-toy was forever cemented. Lauren threw an absolute fit backstage at their reception, smashing everything in sight, while Chairman Sterling wore a face as dark as thunder. The moment Chase stepped into the executive suite, he was brutally frozen out by the legacy board members. His VP seat felt like a bed of nails. Desperate to validate his worth, he hungered for a massive win. And that was precisely when I handed him the bait. Leveraging the resources Victoria had placed at my disposal, I orchestrated a high-profile Tech & Digital Art Expo. Acting as the lead director of Lin Enterprises, I personally sent an exclusive invitation directly to his desk. The invitation conspicuously highlighted the guest of honor: Victoria Vance. When Chase opened the envelope, Lauren was in the middle of tearing into him. "Look at you! You can't do a single damn thing right! "The entire company is snickering behind my back! Even my dad can't stand the sight of you!" The moment his eyes hit the name Victoria Vance, his pupils dilated. "Victoria Vance? The Victoria Vance?" He ripped the card toward him. "Babe, this is our break! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! "If we can hook a deal with Vance Capital, ten Sterling Groups combined wouldn't even hold a candle to it!" Lauren was spoiled and reckless, but she wasn't completely blind. She understood what the Vance empire commanded. "Do you really think you can pull that off? I heard she's impossibly cold. She looks down on everyone." "Other men might fail. Not me." Chase adjusted his silk tie, flashing a predatory grin at his reflection in the mirror. "Did you forget? This face has always been my skeleton key." He was utterly convinced that all women were shallow, visual creatures. As long as he turned on the charm, none could resist. He was already daydreaming about seducing Victoria, severing his leash to the Sterlings, and eventually grinding the entire Sterling clan under his designer loafers. The intoxicating fantasy of ultimate power sent adrenaline roaring through his veins.The night of the exhibition, Chase arrived dressed to the nines in a bespoke ivory tuxedo, schmoozing his way through the gallery floor. At long last, he spotted Victoria Vance, encircled by a tight orbit of industry titans. She wore a minimalist, floor-length midnight gown, radiating a quiet, suffocating authority. Her mere presence commanded the entire room, making everything else fade into static. Chase took a steadying breath, lifted two flutes of vintage champagne, and pushed his way through the inner circle. "Ms. Vance, an absolute honor. Chase Miller, Executive VP of Sterling Group." Victoria slowly turned her gaze toward him. Her eyes lingered on his face for barely two seconds, then drifted downward, settling on the hands holding the glasses. "You have remarkable hands," she observed, her tone crisp and cool. "Long, slender fingers, clean bone structure. Perfect for a concert pianist." Chase froze, followed instantly by a surge of sheer triumph. She was praising his body! "You have an incredible eye, Ms. Vance. I was actually the lead pianist for our university's music society." "Is that so?" The corner of Victoria's lips curled into a faint, mocking arch. "In that case, would you mind playing a piece for me right now?" Right at the center of the exhibition hall sat a priceless custom Steinway grand piano. Overwhelmed by the sudden spotlight, Chase nodded eagerly. "It would be my absolute privilege!" He strode over and took his seat before the keys as the spotlight snapped onto him. He poured every ounce of theatrical romance into a rendition of Mariage d'Amour, throwing smoldering, loaded glances toward Victoria throughout the performance. As the final note faded, thunderous applause washed over the hall. Smug and riding high, he stood and offered an elaborate, theatrical bow in Victoria's direction. Yet Victoria didn't look at him at all. Instead, she turned to her assistant, her voice carrying clearly: "Find out how much that piano costs and wire the payment. I'm buying it. And make sure to sanitize it thoroughly—I despise having other people touch my belongings." The assistant nodded instantly and marched off toward the event coordinators. The charming smile froze solid on Chase's face. The surrounding chatter abruptly died. The glances from the elite crowd instantly morphed from mild admiration into thinly veiled pity and smothered snickers. Victoria's meaning was crystal clear: she was interested in the instrument, not the monkey hammering on the keys. And as an outsider, his clumsy touch on her property had disgusted her. It was an exquisite, public humiliation. Chase's face flashed between burning crimson and ashen gray. He knew he couldn't blow his temper. In front of a titan like Victoria, any display of rage would only make him look like a cheap clown. Swallowing the bitter bile of shame, he stepped toward her, forcing a smile that looked more painful than weeping. "Ms. Vance, my deepest apologies for overstepping. Allow me to drink three glasses as a penalty." Without waiting, he knocked back three neat shots of straight liquor. Only then did Victoria shift her gaze back to him, her eyes flashing with a predatory, assessing gleam. "Fascinating," she said softly. "I happen to need a private curator to tend to my personal collection. You seem remarkably well-suited." "Be at this address tomorrow morning at nine sharp. Remember: come alone." She casually flipped an unmarked black card into his fingers, turned on her heel, and walked away without sparing him a second glance. Chase had assumed he was dead in the water, but the game had completely inverted! A personal curator! Overseeing her private collection! That was an inner-sanctum position directly at her side! A tidal wave of euphoria instantly washed away every ounce of shame from moments before. He watched her retreating silhouette with feral, hungry eyes. He knew his gamble had paid off. Without hesitation, he whipped out his phone and fired off a text to Lauren: We're done. Keep the condo and the cars. Don't ever contact me again. Then, he blocked her on every platform.