After Dumping the CEO, I Went Back to Being the Billionaire

"We should get a divorce." His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

Stella Dawson lowered her head, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of his shirt. "Alexander, I love you. Please, don't do this."

Alexander Sterling turned away without a second glance, strode to the coffee table, and tossed a document in front of her.

"The divorce agreement. Look it over. Make sure I didn't forget anything."

Stella froze for a heartbeat, then a sardonic twist of her lips preceded her reaching for the papers with trembling hands.

"Alexander," she whispered, her voice laced with a pleading note he knew was false, "is there really no other way? Am I that easy to discard?"

But Alexander's expression remained unmoved, a mask of growing impatience.

"Stop wasting my time," he stated bluntly. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? The money? Two million. Just sign."

"I married you because of my grandfather's wish. I've held up my end of the bargain."

"I've kept my word. There's no reason for you to cling to this farce any longer."

The air grew still, thick with unspoken words. Only their uneven breathing punctuated the heavy silence.

Stella bit her lower lip, her knuckles white where she gripped the paper.

"But I don't want to let you go..."

She watched him from under her lashes.

Sure enough, Alexander's face hardened into an icy mask.

He looked down at her, his voice dangerously calm. "If you won't sign voluntarily, we'll settle this in court."

Her eyes welled up, glistening with unshed tears. "Alexander, do you really despise me this much?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone as if ready to call his lawyer that very instant.

"I'm not playing games. You know how this ends if you refuse."

Finally, as if utterly defeated, Stella lowered her gaze and scrawled her name across the document.

Silence descended once more.

After a moment, Alexander retrieved the signed agreement and stared at her for a long second.

"Keep this quiet. No one is to know. The finalized papers will be sent to you."

His tone wasn't just cold-it was glacial.

Stella's face paled, her hands clenched into tight fists, looking fragile enough to shatter.

"You'll regret this, Alexander Sterling," she murmured under her breath.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately said nothing. He simply turned and walked out.

The spacious living room was tomb-silent.

Stella looked at the copy of the agreement on the table, traced her signature with a fingertip, and suddenly, a slow smile spread across her lips.

Honestly...

This felt incredible.

She'd never felt so light, so unburdened.

If her stepsister Emily hadn't been so obsessively in love with Alexander, Stella would never have agreed to this sham marriage in the first place.

After months of waiting, the divorce papers were finally here. Stella sank back into the plush couch, a visible wave of relief washing over her.

She lazily picked up her phone and dialed Kevin Porter.

"Kevin, be a darling and arrange a two-million-dollar donation for me, will you?"

"Huh? Stella, what's going on?"

"Don't ask questions. Let's just say I'm tired of being a bored rich wife. Oh, and book out a VIP section at a club tonight-find me some eye candy; I'm celebrating my official return to singlehood."

"Uh. You got it! Congrats on ditching the dead weight! Just text me the details later!"

Stella chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief and glee.

"What do you think I should wear to the club tonight?"

"Go for the little black dress. Killer look! I'm on it. See you tonight!"

With that, the call ended. Kevin was already off to fulfill her requests.

Stella Dawson raised a perfectly sculpted brow, pulling a slinky black mini dress from the closet and tossing it casually over the chair.

Liberation was intoxicating.

She had just finished changing when Kevin Porter sent a burst of photos.

A lineup of male models stood under the flashy lights of the Moonlight Club-all tall, chiseled, and undeniably handsome.

"Stella, check out the selection. If none of these do it for you, I'll get a fresh batch."

"Kevin, your taste is impeccable," she replied, a playful lilt in her voice.

After a quick touch-up, Stella grabbed her purse and headed out. The rideshare she'd booked was already waiting in the driveway.

The villa was in the suburbs, so she'd had the foresight to book a car in advance.

Settling into the backseat, she fished a candy from her bag and popped it into her mouth.

Her phone buzzed-Emily Dawson. The so-called beloved daughter of the Dawson family, who had only recently returned.

"Stella, are you coming home for dinner this weekend? Dad wants to speak with Alexander," a sickly-sweet voice cooed from the other end.

Stella let out a quiet, derisive snort. Of course. That was the real reason for the call.

"What a shame," she drawled, crunching the candy between her teeth. "My husband's schedule is packed lately."

Emily hesitated, then pressed, "Do you know when he might be free?"

"Hard to say. Alexander and I are leaving for our honeymoon soon. No idea when we'll be back."

"What?! A honeymoon?!" Emily's voice shot up an octave.

Stella held the phone away from her ear, smirking. "Of course. He hasn't taken me on a proper trip in ages. You know how demanding his work is. But this time, he's cleared his entire schedule for a European tour. Maybe I'll bring you back a souvenir... if I remember."

Emily was silent for a beat before trying again, "Could you maybe stop by with him before you leave? Dad really needs to see him."

"Tell Dad to call Alexander's office directly. I'm not his secretary."

With that, Stella ended the call.

She knew exactly how Emily felt about Alexander. That little performance? Purely to twist the knife.

Back at the Dawson residence, Emily sat weeping on the couch as if her world had ended.

"Mom, Stella says she's going to Europe with Alexander! You said he didn't love her, that he was going to dump her. What about our plan? What do we do with all the things we prepared?!"

Laura Warner sat beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Sweetheart, don't upset yourself. Alexander would never fall for a girl like her. She's just trying to get under your skin."

"That marriage was just a performance for the old Sterling man. You are the one who should be Mrs. Sterling-the true heir of the Dawson family. She's nothing but a stand-in."

Across the room, Nicholas Dawson stubbed out his cigarette, his expression firm as he sat down.

"Your mother's right. I'll find out Alexander's travel plans. If they match what she said. you'll be on that flight too."

Hearing the conviction in her father's voice, Emily nodded, dabbing at her tears.

Her fingers curled into tight fists, her expression a volatile mix of vindication and bitter resentment.

If only she had returned to the family sooner, none of this would have happened-Stella wouldn't have stolen what was rightfully hers.

Alexander Sterling-the Sterling Group heir, the most coveted bachelor. How did a nobody like Stella end up with him?

That life was meant to be hers. And she was done watching from the wings.

It was past ten when the night finally came alive.

The Moonlight Club was, without a doubt, the most exclusive nightlife destination in the capital.

This was where the city's elite came to play.

The higher the floor, the more decadent the entertainment.

On the first level, sultry live vocals wove through the bass-heavy music and the shuffle of flirtatious footsteps-a chaotic symphony that, strangely, put Stella Dawson completely at ease.

She lounged in a plush booth, legs elegantly crossed, a neat glass of brandy in hand. Her little black dress was a stark contrast against her pale, luminous skin.

"Hey gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?" As expected, another admirer approached.

Stella didn't even bother speaking. She simply waved him away with a lazy, dismissive gesture.

She'd lost count of how many men she'd rejected tonight. None of them sparked her interest-just not her type.

Kevin Porter sat nearby, engrossed in a drinking game with one of the waitstaff, though he kept stealing glances in her direction.

"Still drawing a crowd, I see," he smirked. "No one caught your eye yet?"

"They're all a bit bland, don't you think?" Stella remarked coolly.

"Good thing I came prepared. I booked a private selection for your viewing pleasure," Kevin grinned.

He gestured, and a waiter promptly appeared. "Shall I bring them over now, sir?"

"Yes, let's start with five. Let Stella have a look," Kevin nodded with satisfaction.

"Right away."

The waiter hurried off, his footsteps fading into the thumping music.

Kevin turned back to Stella, who was taking a slow sip of her drink. He rubbed his hands together with a conspiratorial smile.

Just then, a deep voice carried from the entrance.

"Mr. Sterling, the private lounge is on the fourth floor. This way, please."

Alexander Sterling stood at the foot of the staircase, his expression unreadable. He gave a curt nod and made to ascend.

But something-a pull, an instinct-made him turn his head. And there she was.

A woman in a sleek black dress, lounging in a booth as if she owned the place. Even in the dim, hazy light, her features were sharp and striking; those long, slender legs were impossible to ignore. An aura of effortless confidence and raw sensuality radiated from her.

He froze, his gaze locked on her.

What was she doing here?

"Mr. Sterling, would you prefer to stay at the bar for a moment?" His assistant, Jack Holden, inquired cautiously beside him.

Alexander didn't respond. His attention remained fixed.

He shifted slightly, and that's when he saw them-a group of shirtless male models parading towards her booth, lining up for her inspection.

His body went rigid. "What is this?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Jack followed his line of sight-and did a double-take when he recognized the woman in question.

"That appears to be. one of the club's premium services," Jack stammered.

A cheerful waiter piped up from behind them, "Exactly, sir! Our elite hosts are very popular! We have female companions as well, if you're interested?"

"That won't be necessary." Alexander's quiet snort was laced with disdain.

He quickened his pace, swiftly heading for the upper floors.

There was no way Stella would dare to order male escorts. Even with her occasional dramatics, she had always been so timid around him.

She was like a scared little kitten-obsessed with him to the point of blindness.

None of those pretty boys could possibly hold a candle to him anyway.

He must have mistaken someone else for her from that distance.

Jack trailed behind, watching his boss's cold, decisive figure disappear upstairs. He sighed inwardly.

Perhaps. just perhaps, Mr. Sterling should have looked a little closer.

Since the divorce, Stella wasn't just surviving-she was thriving. Confident. Liberated. Fiercely independent.

But Jack knew better than to voice his thoughts. After all, not long ago, she'd hacked into the company's internal system using Alexander's credentials and spammed the entire staff directory with. creative declarations praising his physique and undying devotion.

The incident had been deeply embarrassing for Mr. Sterling. The office tension was palpable for weeks.

If it hadn't been for that final straw, perhaps things between them wouldn't have ended so abruptly.

.

Meanwhile, Stella was critically appraising the lineup of men before her.

They were handsome, well-built, and their demure expressions added a certain charm.

A definite upgrade from the clueless amateurs who had been approaching her all night.

She narrowed her eyes, offering a calm, slightly distant smile. "So, how old are you all?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Me too. eighteen."

"Same!"

They answered in a rushed chorus, faces etched with anxiety.

Stella chuckled softly.

Really? With those faint crow's feet, they expected her to believe they were eighteen?

Of course they lied about their age-it was part of the game here. Youth sold.

Everyone knew it was a facade, but nobody wanted the harsh truth.

"I'm twenty-four," the last one said quietly.

His honesty made Stella raise a brow. She looked at him with renewed interest.

It was rare to find someone that straightforward here. She was intrigued. "Come here."

She crooked a finger, and he hurried over to sit beside her. The others looked visibly frustrated.

One of them stepped forward, putting on a pitiful pout. "What about me, sis? Am I not good enough?"

"Be serious," Stella said, leaning slightly towards the man now seated beside her. "Take a look in the mirror. Does that look like an eighteen-year-old face to you?"

The man's face fell instantly. He awkwardly retreated with the rest of the rejected group.

She turned her full attention to the man beside her, relaxing into the plush cushions.

He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly unsure of what to do next.

"You don't know how to pour a drink?" Kevin frowned. "Is this your first day?"

"I-I'm sorry." he mumbled, bowing his head slightly towards Kevin.

"What's your name?" Stella asked, her curiosity evident.

"Rex Turner," he replied, his nervousness palpable. "I've been here a month, ma'am."

"Let me pour you a drink." His fingers trembled slightly as he filled her glass. She gave a slow, approving nod, and he proceeded to down his own drink in one go.

"You're not bad on the eyes," Stella remarked after a sip, her gaze playful.

Rex's cheeks flushed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You've worked here a month and never. entertained a client privately?"

Stella knew these "elite hosts" weren't just here for conversation and drink-pouring.

Sure, the base pay was decent, but the real money came from. extracurricular activities-arrangements that had nothing to do with the club itself.

"I don't do that sort of thing. I'm just a standard host," Rex explained awkwardly, waving his hands. "Ma'am, I."

Kevin burst out laughing, nearly toppling off the couch.

"You won't make a fortune with that attitude!" he teased. "Why not stick with our Stella here?"

"She's generous. What's one more admirer in her collection?"

"You're not her usual type, but who knows? You might grow on her."

Rex's face turned crimson, but he held his ground. "Really, I. I don't do that."

Stella looked at him, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She raised her glass and finished the contents.

"Alright then. Your loss," she said with a nod. He quickly refilled her glass.

The music shifted again, the beat dropping heavier, and the dance floor erupted into a frenzy of movement.

Bodies swayed and laughter rang out, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch.

She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the vibrant, intoxicating atmosphere.

Then, abruptly, a heavy, meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Stella flinched. Her brows furrowed as she slowly, deliberately, turned to look.

Her gaze traveled up to meet a greasy, rotund face, crowned by a balding head, the owner's thick fingers digging into her skin.

Stella Dawson nearly choked on her drink, her face contorting in revulsion as she forcefully shoved the greasy hand away.

But the balding, heavyset man wasn't deterred. His thick gold chain swung as he shamelessly tried to close the distance, crowding her space.

"Hey there, gorgeous, sitting all by yourself? How about we exchange numbers?"

He waved his phone in front of her, the QR code glaring brightly.

Just as that pudgy hand reached for her again, Kevin Porter shot up and stormed over, planting himself as a barrier. "Hey! Back off! Got no manners?"

"What's it to you? Mind your own business." The man gave Kevin a rough shove.

Stella rolled her eyes and pinned him with a death glare. "You're the one who needs to leave."

"Oho, feisty, are we?" He leered at her, his eyes dripping with sleazy appreciation.

A pretty face, a killer figure, a voice like honey-she was exactly his type. Even her sharp tongue just made her a spicier conquest in his eyes.

"C'mon, give us a kiss." He puckered his lips grotesquely and leaned in. "I love a girl with some fire."

She suppressed a wave of nausea, then brought her stiletto heel down hard on his shin.

At first, he seemed amused, thinking it was part of the game.

But the moment the pain registered, his legs buckled. He crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes, howling.

"Damn bitch!" He curled into a ball, face contorted in agony. "Ahhh, my leg!"

"Boss!" Several of his lackeys glowered at Stella, pure rage in their eyes. "You're gonna pay for that!"

One of them snatched a bottle from a nearby table and hurled it directly at her.

They'd just been shown up by a woman, and their pride couldn't take it.

Stella let out a derisive laugh, raised her leg again, and kicked the incoming thugs aside as if swatting away flies.

The men hit the ground, clutching their injuries and whimpering. Meanwhile, Stella calmly lifted her glass and gave it a little shake toward Rex Turner. "Don't let the trash kill the vibe. My glass is empty."

She was radiant, utterly unbothered. Rex's cheeks flushed as he scrambled for a bottle, pouring the clear liquid with slightly trembling hands.

"Mr. Sterling! Please, let me explain! It's a misunderstanding!"

A panicked voice echoed from the upper floor.

Alexander Sterling descended the stairs with thunderous steps, his face a mask of icy fury, completely ignoring the pleading man trailing behind him.

He looked ready to detonate.

Stella, mid-laugh with Rex, glanced up at the commotion-and her eyes collided with his glacial stare.

Her heart stuttered. Crap. What is HE doing here?!

"Kevin! Kevin!"

"What's up, Stella? Need a refill?"

"No, look! Up there! Tell me that's not Alexander."

Kevin followed her gaze and paled.

"Oh, shit. It is him." His hand gripped the back of the sofa for support.

Stella clenched her fists, momentarily speechless.

Up on the landing, Alexander's lips curved into a smile-cold and razor-sharp. Fire smoldered in his eyes.

Marvelous. This woman has some nerve.

The former Mrs. Sterling, cozying up with pretty boys in a dive bar?

Even if he despised her, even if they were legally divorced-witnessing this felt like a direct, public slap in the face.

He glared at her as if she had committed an unforgivable transgression.

Stella instinctively tried to make herself smaller as he began his approach. She quickly yanked Kevin closer.

Kevin, bewildered but compliant, leaned into the act.

By the time Alexander reached them, Stella had thrown an arm around each man-one around Kevin, the other around Rex.

What the hell?! How dare she flaunt this in front of him?!

Just because he'd ended it, she'd completely lost her mind?

Alexander glared, his jaw so tight it looked ready to crack. "What is the meaning of this?"

Her makeup was flawless-dramatic and sharp-and her short dress left little to the imagination, showcasing those long, slender legs.

Stella Dawson looked like she owned the place, dressed to seduce and seemingly here to curate her own personal harem.

"Isn't it obvious?" Stella said with feigned nonchalance, "I'm appreciating the local scenery."

Alexander Sterling's face darkened further. Jack Holden, standing behind him, stayed silent as a ghost.

The boss was clearly livid, probably unable to believe Ms. Dawson would go this far. Was she deliberately trying to provoke him?

Kevin Porter caught the vibe instantly. He gulped, then dramatically leaned into Stella with a pout. "Sis, are these the new recruits for tonight? You've already got me and Rex wrapped around your finger, and you're still shopping?"

"You're insatiable. One on each arm, and still your eyes wander? Gotta catch 'em all, is that it?"

Stella didn't need to say a word; her eyes gave the instruction. Kevin, a natural accomplice, played his part perfectly.

He gave her a look of mock heartbreak. She patted his head indulgently, clearly pleased-this was her wingman.

As for Alexander? He could choke on his outrage.

She swirled the wine glass lazily, took a delicate sip, and met Alexander's furious gaze head-on.

Tilting her chin defiantly, she tossed out, "Nah, he looks too high-maintenance. Probably costs a fortune. I'm fresh out of alimony."

"What? So we're not good enough for you now?" Kevin fake-sobbed into her shoulder.

Male escorts these days really committed to the bit, didn't they?

Jack Holden's mouth twitched, but he bit back any comment.

"My mistake, boys. You're both delightful. Now, who's ready for another round?"

"Whoever makes me laugh hardest tonight gets a private audience."

She hugged both men like a queen holding court, fully aware she was poking the bear, and enjoying every second of it.

"Stella Dawson!" Alexander's roar cut through the bar's din, making her blink slowly, deliberately.

"No need to yell, Mr. Sterling. We have ears."

"What, offended I called him 'high-end'? Fine, he's bargain bin. Happy?" she taunted.

He looked like a volcano on the verge of eruption. "Explain yourself. Who are these men?"

Stella didn't answer. A subtle glance at Kevin was all the cue he needed.

"Oh, we're her paid entertainment," Kevin replied with faux innocence. "Isn't it obvious?"

He pointed at Rex Turner, then at himself. "She fancied the new guy tonight. I'm part of the permanent collection."

Finally, Jack broke his silence. "And what, precisely, does 'entertainment' entail?"

He had a general idea, but part of him still refused to accept the reality.

"Are you for real?" Kevin shot back. "What rock did you crawl out from under? What do you think we do here?"

Jack's lips twitched again, but he swallowed the retort. Arguing with an escort was beneath him.

"You got a divorce just to debase yourself like this?" Alexander's voice was pure ice, his eyes drilling into her. "Have you no shame left?"

Was this ridiculous woman genuinely trying to make him regret the divorce?

Even Jack couldn't meet his eyes, but Stella held his gaze defiantly.

"That's a bit rich, coming from you," she said, her smile saccharine. "If I recall correctly, you're the one who filed the papers."

"So?" His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"So, it means you forfeited any right to an opinion."

Stella smiled like the sun, raised her glass high, and suddenly flung the contents straight at his chest. The dark liquid soaked into his pristine white shirt and suit jacket like a stain of contempt.

"Even if I decide to sample every man in this city, it is none of your damn business!"

A few stray drops splattered onto his cheek. He looked utterly, profoundly enraged.

"Mr. Sterling!" Jack panicked, fumbling for tissues with shaky hands.

He rushed forward, but a new figure materialized at the top of the stairs.

A playful, melodic voice followed: "My, my, what's all the excitement down here? The former Mrs. Sterling certainly knows how to liven up a party!"