Zero Assets: Divorcing The Cruel Billionaire

The heavy mahogany door of the VIP suite at The Obsidian Club was sealed shut, but the building's vintage ventilation grates carried the sound perfectly into the quiet hallway.

Erna stood in the dim, flickering light of the corridor. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the vintage Patek Philippe pocket watch that the cold metal was biting into her palm. Freezing rainwater dripped from the hem of her cheap trench coat, pooling into a dark, spreading stain on the expensive patterned carpet. Her hair clung to her pale cheeks, soaked through from the storm outside.

This watch was the only thing Apollo had cherished before the car accident. She had spent the last three hours standing in the freezing New York rain, clutching it, praying that the weight of this familiar object might spark a single, fleeting memory in her husband's damaged brain.

The thick scent of expensive cigars drifted through the ventilation grate. It burned the back of Erna's throat, a sharp contrast to the cheap, faded trench coat she wore.

A roar of laughter erupted from inside. The crisp clink of ice against crystal whiskey glasses followed.

"So, what's the deal with the drug stunt at the party last night?" Sterling's voice drifted out, clear and amused. "Is she still playing the victim?"

A cold snort cut through the air. It was a sound so devoid of human warmth that it made the blood in Erna's veins freeze.

"Erna is a bottom-feeding gold digger from Queens," Apollo's voice was a physical blow to her chest. "She'd do anything to keep her claws in the Manhattan social scene. Drugging drinks is exactly her level of pathetic."

Erna's lungs forgot how to process oxygen. Her stomach dropped, twisting into a painful knot.

She took a half-step back. Her shoulder blades hit the freezing wall of the corridor with a soft thud.

"Maybe we shouldn't be so harsh," Brynlee's voice floated out, dripping with a sickeningly sweet sympathy. "She's probably just terrified of losing the Cherry family's protection. People do crazy things when they're desperate, Apollo."

"Don't waste your kindness on trash, Brynlee," Apollo said. His tone shifted instantly. The harshness vanished, replaced by a deep, protective gentleness. "She'll only use it against you."

That gentleness. He used to speak to Erna exactly like that. Hearing him give it to someone else felt like a serrated knife dragging across her ribs.

"I bet her spot at Columbia was bought with your family's black money anyway," another voice chimed in, followed by more laughter.

"Not anymore," Apollo said coldly. "I had my lawyers freeze every trust fund credit card in her name this morning. Cut off the money, and that greedy bitch will be on her knees crying to sign the divorce papers by tomorrow."

Erna looked down at her washed-out coat. A bitter, hollow laugh scraped its way up her throat.

She's still too foolish. She thought a piece of metal could awaken someone who had survived death. But the final result was, the car accident didn't just erase Apollo's memory. It also killed the man who loved her. Now the most familiar stranger in this room, not only has forgotten her, but he also despises her.

A sudden, violent clarity washed over her. The suffocating weight of the past three years vanished, leaving behind a freezing, absolute numbness.

Erna walked over to the brass trash can against the wall. She didn't hesitate. She dropped the Patek Philippe pocket watch inside.

The heavy metal hit the bottom with a sharp, final clatter.

She unzipped her worn canvas tote bag and pulled out a stack of slightly wrinkled papers. She had printed them at the legal aid center just hours ago.

Erna took a deep breath. Her spine straightened, locking into place. The shattered grief in her eyes hardened into shards of ice.

She raised her hand and pushed the heavy mahogany door wide open.

The brass hinges let out a sharp screech, instantly silencing the jazz music and the laughter inside.

Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance. The air turned dead and heavy.

Erna stepped onto the Persian rug, her eyes locked dead ahead. She walked straight toward Apollo, who was sitting in the center of the leather sofa, his face frozen in pure shock.

Apollo recovered from his shock in a fraction of a second. His dark eyebrows pulled together, and a flash of pure disgust crossed his face.

"Where the hell is security?" Apollo's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "How did a woman without a membership get in here?"

Erna didn't blink. She didn't slow down. She walked right past the staring heirs and socialites, straight to the massive glass coffee table in front of him.

Brynlee shrank back against the sofa cushions, pressing her shoulder into Apollo's arm. She crossed her hands over her chest, her eyes wide like a frightened deer.

Erna stopped. She looked down at Apollo. There was no warmth left in her gaze, no pleading, no tears.

She raised the stack of papers in her hand and slammed them down onto the tempered glass.

Smack.

The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. The crystal whiskey glasses on the table rattled against each other.

Several people in the room gasped. Brynlee let out a tiny, dramatic shriek.

Apollo stared at the bold word DIVORCE printed at the top of the document. The muscles in his jaw ticked. His pupils contracted.

Then, he leaned back against the leather sofa and let out a dark, mocking laugh.

"What's the number this time, Erna?" Apollo sneered, crossing his arms. "Ten million? The penthouse in Manhattan? What's the price for your exit?"

"Flip to the last page," Erna said. Her voice was completely flat. "Look at the asset division clause."

Apollo's eyes narrowed. He grabbed the papers with a look of utter contempt and flipped to the back.

His eyes scanned the text. Then, his mocking smile froze.

The clause clearly stated she was taking nothing. She will waive all division of jointly owned property between spouses and leave with nothing.

He looked up at her, his expression twisting into suspicion. He was searching her face for the trick, convinced this was just a new psychological game.

Erna ignored him. She shifted her gaze to Brynlee, who was still clinging to Apollo's side.

"I didn't say anything bad about you, Erna, I swear-" Brynlee started, her voice trembling.

"Save the pathetic acting for someone who buys it," Erna cut her off. Her voice was like crushed glass. "It makes me sick to look at you."

Apollo shot up from the sofa. He stepped in front of Brynlee, shielding her with his broad body.

"Watch your mouth," Apollo roared, his chest heaving. "Don't act like a rabid dog just because your scam failed."

Erna looked at his protective stance. A year ago, that would have shattered her. Now, it just felt ridiculous.

She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out her phone, and lit up the screen. She held it up for the entire room to see. It was an electronic NYPD police report receipt.

"I filed an official police report two hours ago regarding the drugged drinks and the leaked private photos from last night," Erna announced, her voice ringing clear across the room.

The temperature in the suite plummeted. The faces of the people who had been at the party turned stark white.

Apollo's face darkened into a storm of fury. "Are you threatening the Cherry family with the police?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"The police will find out exactly who put the drugs in that glass," Erna said calmly, putting her phone away.

She looked at Apollo one last time. She looked at him like he was a stranger on the subway.

Erna turned on her heel. The hem of her cheap trench coat flared out behind her.

She didn't say another word. She walked out of the suite, her footsteps steady and echoing down the hall.

Apollo stood frozen in the center of the room. He stared at the divorce papers that asked for absolutely nothing, a sudden, inexplicable panic clawing at the inside of his throat.

Erna pushed through the side doors at the end of the carpeted hallway and stepped out onto the semi-open terrace.

The late autumn wind of New York hit her face, carrying a mist of freezing rain. The physical shock of the cold helped cool the burning anger in her head.

Rapid footsteps echoed behind her.

"Erna! Wait!"

Sterling pushed the heavy glass door open, panting as he jogged onto the terrace.

Erna stopped. She turned around and stared at the man who used to be her closest friend at Columbia University.

Sterling reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit and pulled out a neatly folded check. He stepped forward and tried to press it into her hand.

"Take this," Sterling whispered, glancing nervously back at the door. "It's enough for a decent apartment in Brooklyn. Just drop the police report, Erna. Please."

Erna looked down at the piece of paper. A heavy wave of disgust rolled through her stomach.

She took a step back, refusing to touch it. "You only play the good guy when no one is watching, Sterling."

Sterling's face flushed red, then went pale. "You know how it is! I can't go against the Cherry family in public. I'd be ruined in Manhattan."

"Keep your money," Erna said, her voice dripping with contempt. "I don't need your cowardly pity."

Before Sterling could respond, the terrace door creaked open again.

Brynlee stepped out into the freezing rain. She was wearing a thin silk evening gown, her bare shoulders shivering violently in the wind.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. She hurried over to Erna and reached out to grab the sleeve of Erna's trench coat.

Erna yanked her arm back violently, as if Brynlee's touch was toxic. "Back off."

Brynlee's face crumpled into a mask of pure devastation. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

"Please, Erna," Brynlee sobbed, her voice cracking perfectly. "Don't bring the NYPD into this. The scandal will tank Apollo's company stock. You can't do this to him."

Erna let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You don't give a damn about Apollo's stock. You're just terrified the cops will find out what you really did, and your perfect socialite image will burn to the ground."

A flash of genuine panic darted through Brynlee's eyes, but it was gone in a millisecond, buried under a fresh wave of tears.

Brynlee took a sudden step forward. Her high heel scraped loudly against the wet, slippery tiles of the terrace.

Using the momentum, Brynlee threw her upper body backward in a dramatic, exaggerated arc. She crashed hard into a large ceramic planter resting on the edge of the terrace.

Crash.

The thick ceramic shattered. Wet dirt and sharp shards exploded across the floor. Brynlee let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed into the muddy puddle.

Erna stood perfectly still, watching the pathetic performance. She didn't even have the energy to roll her eyes.

Heavy, frantic footsteps thundered from the hallway. Apollo burst onto the terrace, his eyes wild.

He instantly saw Brynlee sitting in the mud, blood trickling down her pale arm from a scrape caused by the broken ceramic.

Apollo's face contorted in rage. He sprinted over and dropped to his knees, pulling Brynlee carefully into his chest.

"It wasn't her fault," Brynlee choked out, burying her face in his shirt. "I just... I lost my balance."

The classic manipulation worked perfectly. Apollo's head snapped up. His eyes locked onto Erna, burning with a murderous hatred.

"You're not just a liar," Apollo roared, his voice vibrating with fury. "You're a violent psychopath!"

Sterling stood frozen to the side, his head ducked down, too terrified of Apollo's wrath to speak a single word in Erna's defense.

Erna looked at the three of them. Her three-year marriage was a grotesque joke.

She kept her spine straight. She didn't take a single step back. She met Apollo's furious glare and let a cold, mocking smile spread across her lips.