The Wealthiest Heir's Vendetta

Chapter 0002

2

Darius murmured to himself, the words tasting bitter. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, he signed the divorce papers. It felt like signing away a part of his soul.

Just as he set the pen down, a sharp ring shattered the silence. Darius walked to the door, his steps heavy, and swung it open. "Yes? Who's—" Before he could finish, a man barged past him, shaking off his umbrella, sending droplets of rainwater scattering across the floor.

"The service in this house leaves much to be desired," the man said arrogantly, tossing his umbrella in Darius's direction with a dismissive gesture. Darius barely caught it, his fingers clenching around the handle so tightly his knuckles turned white.

As Darius stood bewildered by the abrupt entrance, his heart sank. "Who are you?" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with confusion and pain.

The man, nonchalantly drying himself off, barely glanced at Darius. "I'm Howard Cooper," he declared, his tone imbued with a certain aloofness. "And soon, I'll be the host of this delightful home."

“You're Howard Cooper?” Bitterness seeped into Darius's heart. It made sense now why Lydia had suddenly brought up divorce. Howard, her first love, was back, rendering Darius, the stand-in, obsolete.

Feeling a sharp pang in his chest, Darius's grip on the umbrella handle tightened, his knuckles turning white. The world seemed to slow down, his heart throbbing in his ears.

Back then, Lydia had been in a terrible accident. By chance, Darius had saved her. She had a boyfriend, Howard, but upon learning of her injuries, Howard had chosen to leave her and go abroad.

Just then, Lydia appeared, her eyes shining in a way Darius had never seen before. The look she gave Howard was a deeper stab than betrayal. "Howard, darling," she cooed, her voice filled with a warmth Darius had longed to hear, especially given his unwavering support during her darkest times.

Howard, noticing Lydia's presence, immediately shifted his demeanor to one of mock distress. "Your servant here is quite the impolite one," he complained, throwing a disdainful glance towards Darius.

The room filled with an uncomfortable tension. Lydia, caught off guard, hastily corrected Howard. "He's not a servant. Darius is... was my husband."

Howard, now looking somewhat chastened, glanced around the room, his demeanor changing. "Ah, I see. My apologies, Darius," he began, turning to Darius with a look of feigned. It was wrong of me to assume."

Lydia rushed over, her expression showing a mix of embarrassment and perhaps a touch of annoyance. "Howard, please," she implored, her voice softer, "Darius was my husband. We...we're going through a divorce."

Howard's face registered surprise, and his tone took on a note of reflection. "Oh, Lydia, I had no idea," he said, his voice laced with a hint of sorrow. "I can only imagine what you've both been through. It's truly regrettable."

Turning to Darius, Howard extended a hand, not quite meeting his eye, a practiced look of concern on his face. "Darius, I owe you another apology. It seems I've jumped to conclusions and perhaps caused you pain in a time that is already challenging. For that, I am sorry."

Lydia, maybe sensing the sincerity or simply choosing to believe in it, nodded and took Howard's hand. "It's been hard, but yes, we'll manage to move forward, together," she affirmed, locking eyes with him.

Darius watched the exchange and didn't even bother to take Howard's hand, a storm was brewing inside him. He felt like an outsider in his own home, witnessing a performance meant to exclude and belittle him.

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him; if anything, it was a grotesque caricature of the life he'd been living up until now, especially bitter given how ungrateful Lydia seemed after all he had done for her.

In a moment of cold clarity, Lydia turned to Darius, her voice devoid of warmth. "Don't be so stubborn. Just sign the papers."

"I've already signed the papers," Darius interjected, the words sharp, a clear end to the farce playing out before him. He tossed the envelope containing the signed divorce papers towards Lydia, his poker face crumbling just a bit around the edges.

Lydia caught the envelope, her surprise evident. "Well, I didn't expect you to be so cooperative," she said, her tone lacing with a mix of relief and disdain. "But that attitude of yours, it's precisely why this is happening."

Darius couldn't help but laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "What attitude should I have, Lydia? Should I be grateful you're divorcing me for...for him?" He gestured at Howard with a dismissive flick of his wrist, unable to hide the scorn in his voice, thinking back on how he had been there for her, unlike him, only to be repaid with ingratitude.

Lydia's face remained impassive. "You could never understand, Darius. You and I, we're not cut from the same cloth," she stated, her voice cold, her hands steady at her sides. "However, I'm not without compassion. I've decided to compensate you for...for your dedication over the years."

Lydia, with measured grace, retrieved a check from her purse and slid it across the table to Darius. The amount, one million dollars, was clearly written on it.

Howard couldn't hide his momentary astonishment; his mask of indifference slipped as he internally marveled at the sum.

'That's a considerable amount,' he thought, a mixture of envy and surprise swirling within him at the sight of such wealth being so casually offered.

"This is a million dollars. Take it as compensation," Lydia stated, her voice steady.

Darius picked up the check, his hands visibly shaking—not from gratitude, but from a deep-rooted sense of indignation.

"One million dollars? Darius looked at the check, he said ironically, "So generous, Lydia. This is the only thing you are good at, giving money. But you should know money is not the solution for everything."

And then he tore the check, into pieces, allowing them to scatter to the floor, symbolic of his dashed hopes and dreams.