Billionaire, Let's Divorce!

I grinned as I put the last touch on the bracelet. I let out a groan as I sat up, stretching my arms and yawning

I sighed as I checked the time. It was past working hours again. But I was comforted by the knowledge that I accomplished a lot today.

I looked down at the necklace and bracelet. They were gorgeous. Infact, gorgeous is an understatement looked like something out of this world. It was how Atelier studios had become a household name. I always enjoy putting my best in every Jewelry, even if the orders were made by assholes. And it was what I had inculcated in our employees in the production department too

I got to work early today. After last night's drama, I surprisingly had a peaceful sleep afterward. I felt so energized this morning. I suspected it was due to the determination to get out of the marriage.

I encased the bracelet and necklace by myself then I rang for my assistant.

As usual, she was knocking on my door in a few seconds. "Come in."

I handed her the boxes, "Have the client who ordered this know that it's ready."

She nodded, taking the boxes from me like they were eggs.

"The price for both of them is two million dollars."

She tried to hide her gasp as her eyes widened but it was too late, I already heard. I decided to ignore it though.

*Remember, the payments have to be made before the delivery of the jewelry pieces."

'Yes ma'am."

I smiled at her, "Thank you, you can leave now. I've got more designs to work on."

I would have personally oversaw the payment of his orders but I had too much work to waste too much time on one. Though it cost a lot, I grinned; the price was enough for my break up the and some change would still be left, it wasn't enough. We needed more sales

I quickly got onto Grace's Jewelry. Her birthday was getting closer.

I had specifically ordered the gemstones I was using for her piece; I ordered them in her favorite color. I took my time on it; carving it to the right shape and size.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

I was deeply pulled into what I was doing, my focus fully on it when I got startled by the noise my door made as it slammed against the wall.

I furiously removed the work g****e I had on and glared at Richle who was already in front of me.

"Sydney, it is one thing for you to fight these old guys into coordination, it is another to mercilessly snatch people's means of livelihood from them." He ranted, "How could you lay off the whole department?" He threw his hands up in the air, "There's no way the department will work without half of the team!"

My anger at the way he had barged in was gone. Now I was left observing him. I had been sure that I was making the right choice when I took him in. He had talent, raw talent. He was hardworking and ambitious.

even a blind person would have seen that he was an asset.

Richie is one of the original employees that were taken in after the creation of Luxe vogue. He was the perfect man to help grow the company with us. He did well, he worked so hard you'd think he owned the company so we had rewarded him by giving him one percent of the company's share and making him the head of the customer service department. It was enough drive for him to work even harder. Soon, he was living in grand houses, away from the slum I had picked him from.

Now, after three years away from the company, for the first time, I was tempted to doubt my decision.

"Did you knock before you came in?" I lifted an icily arched brow, "or rather before you barged in."

I dropped the goggles and leisurely perched on my desk.

"It's been just a few years and you've become this rude?" I tutted and shook my head.

He stood there, his gaze holding onto mine as he hesitated. Was he contemplating talking back or going back to the door? I wondered.

Indignantly, he turned and strutted to the door, his shoulders hanging in the air. I watched his back as he left the room.

My God, how had he become this proud? Where is the humble Richie I knew? Just because I had left and trusted him for three years, he had become pompous and conceited; a stark shadow of his former self.

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