My Husband Divorced Me To Marry His Mistress, Thinking He Owned My Family’s Multi-million Dollar Company. He Just Found Out He’s Actually An At-will Employee. Who Should Tell Him He’s About To Get Arrested At His Own Wedding?

Sylvia’s Downfall

The chaos in the hotel ballroom reached an unimaginable boiling point. The room, which should have been filled with happy laughter and romance, had turned into the noisy, shameful scene of a crime. The faint sound of sirens could be heard from outside the hotel lobby, heightening the already suffocating tension.

On stage, Damian still squirmed in the grasp of two sturdy police officers. He screamed, cried, and begged, a sight that contrasted sharply with the arrogant figure who had given a speech just minutes before. His expensive groom suit was wrinkled, his tie askew, and his face wet with a mixture of tears and cold sweat.,

He looked like a madman who had lost his mind, repeating endlessly that it was all just a nightmare. Meanwhile, Sylvia was living her own hell at the foot of the stage stairs. She was surrounded by the hotel manager and several vendor representatives who had appeared out of nowhere.

Apparently, the news of Damian’s arrest and the freezing of his assets had spread quickly among the hotel staff and associated vendors. The caterer, the floral decorator, and even the sound system manager—who also apparently hadn’t been fully paid—now surrounded Sylvia, demanding immediate payment. Sylvia shrieked hysterically.

The long train of her wedding dress was being stepped on by the shoes of those surrounding her. Her heavy makeup was streaking, melting the black mascara down her cheeks and creating hideous black lines like the tears of a ghost. She tried to point at Damian, screaming that she knew nothing about the money, but the collectors didn’t care.,

Sylvia’s name was on the contract as a guarantor, and the law is not moved by crocodile tears. Amid the uproar, Eleanor slowly rose from her VIP chair. Her movements were calm and calculated, as if she were in a different time dimension from the chaos around her.

Mr. Hayes stood by her side, offering protection in case the crowd got out of control, but Eleanor raised her right hand slightly, indicating she could handle it. Eleanor smoothed the folds of her black velvet dress, adjusted the brooch on her chest, and began to walk toward the stage area. Her steps were slow but firm.

The guests, who were busy recording the scene with their phones, instinctively lowered their cameras and made way for her. Eleanor’s aura at that moment was so strong it radiated the authority of a winner who needs no cheers to celebrate her victory. Damian, being dragged down the stage stairs, saw Eleanor approaching.

His red, swollen eyes gleamed with a false hope. He struggled, trying to break free from the police to get closer to Eleanor. He thought that Eleanor, the woman who once loved him so much and always forgave his mistakes, would soften at the sight of his condition.

Damian screamed his ex-wife’s name in a hoarse, pathetic voice. He begged for forgiveness, saying it was all a mistake, that Sylvia had incited him, that he still loved Eleanor. Damian lowered his pride to its absolute minimum, prostrating himself on the cold marble floor despite his hands being cuffed behind his back.

He hoped Eleanor would ask the police to release him or at least pay his debt, as she used to back when Damian got into gambling trouble or debts from his lifestyle. Eleanor stopped two steps from the kneeling Damian. She looked down at him from behind her long eyelashes.

There was no anger on Eleanor’s face, only a cold, empty look as if she were seeing a stranger she had never met. Eleanor remembered all of Damian’s humiliations during their five-year marriage. She remembered how Damian called her a boring woman, how he cleverly hid his affairs, and how he had subtly pushed her out of the company’s social life.,

All those bitter memories swirled in Eleanor’s head, but strangely she no longer felt pain. She only felt pity—pity for how small the soul of the man before her was. “Eleanor, please help me pay this debt! I’ll pay you back! I promise to change! Don’t let the police take me!” Damian begged.

Saliva and snot mingled on his face, a truly disgusting sight for anyone to see. The officer holding Damian looked at Eleanor, waiting for her reaction. Would there be an intervention or a new drama?

Eleanor sighed briefly and then spoke in a soft voice, but one that reached Damian’s ears clearly. “Damian, for five years I always cleaned up your messes. I turned a blind eye when you took money from the house to have fun. I stayed silent when you passed yourself off as the owner of my company. I gave you countless opportunities to mature and behave like an adult.”

Eleanor paused, letting her words sink in. “But today, you chose your own destiny. The signature on that divorce agreement was your choice. This lavish party was your choice. And that woman over there,” Eleanor pointed to Sylvia who was sobbing loudly while being held by security, “was also your choice. I am done being your savior. Now learn to be a man responsible for his own decisions.”

Hearing that, Damian’s hopes were shattered. He realized that Eleanor had truly closed the door to her heart forever. Eleanor was no longer the submissive wife he could manipulate.

Damian roared loudly, a sound of despair that echoed horribly. The police pulled him up again, forcing him to his feet and dragging him toward the side exit. Damian kept looking back, watching Eleanor, who remained upright and unshakable until her figure disappeared behind the guarded double doors.