Fiction Dream

Three years ago, my wife personally sent me to prison to take the fall for her brother. She promised that when I got out, she would make it up to me. Three years later, when I walked out of prison, the compensation I received was a divorce agreement and a cold statement. "My company is about to go public. If people find out my husband has a criminal record, the stock price will suffer." I signed the papers and watched her walk away with a smug smile. At that moment, my heart turned completely cold. I casually dialed a number. A few minutes later, a convoy of luxury cars pulled up by the roadside. The richest man in the city personally stepped out and opened the door for me. "Pull all of our investments to my wife... no, my ex-wife's company.She still wants to go public? Make her go bankrupt." --- Hale Prison smelled like rust and regret. The long hallway was dimly lit, and the silence inside was the kind that pressed against your chest. Hundreds of men stood in perfect stillness, their eyes locked forward, their breathing controlled. Not one of them dared to make a sound. At the center of it all, an old man sat with the calmness of someone who had already seen everything the world had to offer. His hands were steady as he held out a ring, placing it gently into the palm of a younger man standing before him. "From today," the old man spoke quietly, his eyes carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken things. "You are the new leader of Apex of the Stars. Codenamed Zeus." Edward Cole accepted the ring without a word. His face was carved from stone, jaw set, eyes steady and unreadable. It was the face of a man who had long learned to carry weight without letting it show. Behind him, hundreds of people lowered their heads in unison, a silent wave of respect that filled the hollow prison walls like a tide. The ceremony ended as quietly as it had begun. A man appeared at Edward's side almost immediately, his smile stretched wide and eager, the kind that politicians and businessmen spent years perfecting. It was John Stanton, the richest man in the city, a name that made boardrooms go quiet and knees go weak. "Boss," John tilted his head with practiced flattery, his eyes warm and almost desperate. "Shall I arrange my car to take you back? It is already waiting outside." Edward glanced at him briefly, his expression unmoved. "No need. My wife is coming." John nodded quickly, stepping closer with the energy of someone desperate to be useful. "Of course, of course. Speaking of your wife, Eliza Norton, right?" His smile widened slightly, proud of himself. "As per your instructions, I have been quietly helping her company secure several major deals over the past few months. Everything was handled discreetly. She has no idea it came from you." Something shifted in Edward's face then. Just a slight curve at the corner of his mouth, so brief that if you blinked you would miss it entirely. "Thank you," Edward murmured simply. John felt a warmth rise in his chest that no business deal had ever given him. He straightened his jacket, his eyes glowing with quiet honor as he watched Edward pick up his small bag and walk toward the exit. The prison gates opened. Outside, a sleek luxury car sat parked along the curb, its black surface catching the afternoon light like a mirror. Edward had barely taken two steps toward it when a woman stepped directly into his path. He recognized her immediately. Cathy Lin. His wife's cousin and personal assistant. She was holding a folder in both hands, and her expression was the kind that people wore when they had rehearsed something carefully in front of a mirror. Her chin was lifted slightly, her lips pressed thin with the confidence of someone delivering news they had been looking forward to. Edward's eyes narrowed slightly, a quiet tension crossing his brow. "Cathy. What are you doing here?" She did not waste time. She opened the folder and thrust it toward him without ceremony. "Sign this." He looked down. Divorce agreement. His name was already printed at the bottom, waiting for his signature like it had been expecting him for a long time. Edward almost laughed. Almost. He raised his eyes to Cathy slowly, his expression flat and unreadable. "Is this a joke?" "Does it look like one?" she shot back, her eyes cool and dismissive, the way someone looks when they have already decided the person in front of them does not matter. A quiet anger settled into Edward's stomach, slow and controlled. Three years. Three years locked inside that prison for something he had not done, and his wife could not even be bothered to come deliver this herself. She sent her cousin. Her cousin with a divorce paper and no apology. Then the rear door of the car opened. Eliza Norton stepped out. She was dressed impeccably, her posture the kind that came from years of walking into rooms full of people who wanted something from her. Her face was a perfect mask, composed and unbothered. Her eyes barely touched his before sliding away again, as though looking at him for too long might cost her something she was not willing to spend. "Edward." Her voice was even, deliberate, carrying just a trace of something buried underneath. Guilt, perhaps. But it vanished almost before it fully formed, swallowed back behind the cool wall of her expression. "This is not a joke. We are no longer on the same level. My company is about to go public and if it comes out that my husband is a convicted criminal, the entire listing will collapse." Edward looked at her for a long moment, his eyes darkening with something she could not quite name. She really said that. A convicted criminal. As if she had forgotten who had knelt on the floor three years ago, her and her parents, hands pressed together, voices breaking, begging him to please take the blame for her brother. Her brother who had drunkenly run a car into someone and panicked like a coward. They had begged Edward because they said the family could not survive the scandal. And he had loved her. So he said yes. He served every single day of that sentence without complaint. And now she stood in front of him in a designer coat and called him a criminal. He let out a short, dry laugh. "Am I a criminal, Eliza? If I had not taken the blame for your brother that day, would you even have a company to put on the market right now?" The words landed hard. Eliza's jaw tightened, and for just a second something cracked behind her eyes, a flash of something raw. Then it sealed over again. She smoothed the front of her coat, lifted her chin, and kept her gaze just slightly above his. "I will compensate you fairly," she replied evenly, her tone the same one she probably used in boardroom negotiations. "Ten million dollars and the villa. That is more than enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life." Edward stared at her. Then he laughed again, this time more openly, because the sheer absurdity of it hit him all at once like a cold wave. The villa. She was offering him the villa as though it were a generous gift. The villa his parents had left him before they died. The one that had been in his name before he ever met Eliza Norton. "That villa was left to me by my parents," he answered, his voice calm but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut. "It has nothing to do with you. It was already mine long before you came into the picture." The silence that followed was sharp enough to sting. Eliza pressed her lips together and looked away, her expression tightening almost imperceptibly. She simply looked at the agreement in Cathy's hands and pushed it forward, her face blank and resolute, already somewhere else in her mind entirely. "Sign it," Eliza instructed quietly, her eyes finally settling on his with that cold, indifferent steadiness. "This is better for both of us." Edward looked at her for one long, unhurried moment. He looked at the woman he had once loved enough to trade his entire freedom for. Her eyes were focused and distant, already calculating the next move, already thinking about press releases and stock prices. He reached out and took the ten-million-dollar check from the folder. He tore it cleanly in half. Then he picked up the pen, pressed it against the bottom of the divorce agreement, and signed his name. Eliza's eyes stayed on Edward for a moment longer than necessary, her brow pulling together slightly as she studied his face. She thought he was acting on impulse. That he had signed out of pride and wounded ego, the way a man who had nothing left sometimes made dramatic gestures just to feel like he still had some control over something. "Edward," she began, her tone careful and measured. He did not look at her with anger. He did not look at her with sadness either. He simply looked at her the way someone looks at a closed door and replied, utterly calm, "Just don't regret it in the future." Cathy let out a sharp laugh, the kind that was designed to draw blood. "Regret?" she sneered, her eyes bright with amusement and cruelty. "Who in their right mind would regret throwing out the trash? Only a complete fool would lose sleep over losing something as worthless as you, Edward. Trust me, the air already smells cleaner." Eliza turned and gave Cathy a single sharp look. Cathy closed her mouth, though the smirk did not fully leave her face. "Take care of yourself," Eliza murmured to Edward, her voice carrying no warmth but no cruelty either. Just the flat politeness of someone closing an old account. She turned without another glance and got back into the car. Cathy followed, tossing one last contemptuous look over her shoulder before pulling the door shut. The car pulled away smoothly. Edward stood at the prison entrance and watched the car disappear around the corner. His expression did not change. He stood there for a breath or two, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed without hesitation, his voice quiet and unbothered. "Come pick me up."