(Samantha's POV)
The city hadn't even woken up, and I was already furious.
My Mercedes purred through the street, sunlight bouncing off skyscrapers and catching in my hair — long, wavy, ginger-copper strands. A fitting crown for the woman they called the Queen of Kingsley Enterprises.
If only queens didn't have to deal with idiots.
The dashboard clock blinked 7:03 a.m., and I was already imagining the pile of chaos waiting for me in the office. I slammed my palm on the steering wheel, teeth clenched. "This is unacceptable!"
I glared at the traffic as if it were personally insulting me. "I don't pay these people to drag the company into the ground. Every single person in this city should be terrified of missing a deadline for me!"
My phone buzzed beside me. Emails, Slack messages, calendar reminders—they were all irrelevant. If it wasn't an apology or a miracle, I didn't want to hear it.
By the time I pulled into the underground garage of Kingsley Tower, I was practically vibrating with frustration, my blood pressure was a threat to national security.
I didn't bother with pleasantries to the security guard or anyone else who dared glance in my direction. I was on a mission to destroy the incompetence festering in my company.
"Good morning, Ms. Kingsley," the receptionist greeted politely, "Coffee…?"
"Coffee? COFFEE?" I whipped around, hair swishing with the motion. "Send my assistant in five minutes, and bring me the project files. Now." I stormed past, leaving the receptionist blinking like a startled deer.
The elevator was mercifully empty. I caught my reflection in the mirror — Ivory blazer, black pencil skirt, diamond earrings — every detail said power. Every step said don't try me.
"CEO? More like Chief Moron Overseer," I muttered under my breath. "I built this empire, and somehow…somehow, these people think they can mess with me?" I imagined my employees lined up outside my office, quivering in fear, the way they always did when they made a mistake.
The elevator doors opened onto my floor, and the air seemed to shrink in fear. No one met my eyes. Good, they knew better.
By the time I reached my office, my temper was already fraying. My cabin was the kind of space most people would describe as opulent yet merciless: floor-to-ceiling windows, a polished walnut desk bigger than most apartments, abstract gold sculptures, and a couch that screamed: sit at your own risk.
"Everything's wrong," I began immediately, not even pausing to close the door. "The Johnson file? Not ready. Investor reports? Delayed. Marketing? Don't get me started. I swear, if someone tells me we're running behind on social strategy, I will personally…." My words trailed off, the pitch of my voice rising with every sentence.
Daniel, my assistant, pale and trembling, approached cautiously. "Ms. Kingsley… the—uh—project report—"
"Wrong," I barked without looking up. "Why is it not ready?! Tell me the reasons, and don't sugarcoat. I don't care if someone's dog ate the server. Just give it to me straight."
The assistant blinked nervously. "The…team—"
I slammed my hand on the desk, rattling the papers. "No! Stop! Stop giving me excuses. I don't want reasons. I want results. I want success. Do you understand?"
The poor assistant didn't answer. Silence hung thick, almost tangible. Everyone on the floor outside my cabin seemed to hold their breath, imagining the verbal hurricane that must have just erupted.
I sighed sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Just get out. I can't look at you right now."
The door shut softly. It was then Daniel made a call, fingers trembling over the phone.
Of course. When I was one tantrum away from committing corporate homicide, there was only one person they dared to send in.
The door opened a moment later.
And there he was. Xavier Bennett, my perfect husband, the CEO of Bennett Corp International.
Even the sound of his name in my head felt infuriatingly calm. He stepped inside like he owned the damn air, like the chaos I created didn't even ruffle him.
His white shirt was rolled to the elbows, veins flexing along his forearms as if sculpted just to test my patience. Dark hair—black as sin—fell over his forehead in careless disarray, the kind that looked unintentional but wasn't. And those cool storm grey eyes met mine forest green. Just like that, I felt both seen and utterly exposed. The kind of steadiness I hated. The kind I secretly relied on.
"You're late," I snapped, tossing a folder across the table so hard the papers scattered like snow. "What were you doing, having coffee while I was dying in this hellhole?"
Xavier stood there, hands in his pockets, and leaning slightly against the doorframe. "It's seven thirty a.m., Samantha. Most people are still waking up."
"Well, I'm not most people," I hissed, throwing my hands in the air. "I run a multi-billion-dollar empire, not a coffee shop."
"I'm aware," he said calmly, and somehow that even tone only made my blood boil hotter. "You've been yelling for twenty minutes straight. If you keep this up, your throat will give out before your rivals do."
"Are you mocking me right now?" I demanded, crossing my arms.
"No. Just saving your voice." God, he was impossible. Calm, collected, and utterly untouchable, everything I wasn't when I was angry.
"Do you have any idea how incompetent the marketing division has become?" I ranted, pacing like a storm. "Their new pitch looks like a kindergarten art project. Everyone else is incompetent, lazy, and utterly useless! And then there's you—standing there, looking like some untouchable calm saint while I'm about to—"
I stopped mid-gesture. I wanted to throw something, maybe even punch the nearest wall, but… he didn't flinch, didn't even blink. He just stayed there, calm, annoying as ever.
That's when I felt the thrill of my plan. Today, Xavier was about to get a taste of my true fury. Not the boardroom, investor-level frustration. No. This was personal.
He sighed softly, like a man who had been through this war a hundred times before. Normally, I had a voice that demanded attention, terrified even the strongest board member. But with him…I ranted and Xavier just listened.
He stepped closer, pouring a glass of water from the side table and placing it carefully in front of me. "Drink."
My brows shot up. "Excuse me?" I stared at him, incredulous. The nerve. The audacity. "You think water's going to fix.."
"Drink, Samantha."
The way he said my name — low, steady, like a command wrapped in silk — made my words falter. God help me, I did want to throw that glass right at his perfect, composed face. But my hand moved before I realized it. I grabbed it and took a sip, glaring at him the entire time.
When I lowered the glass, he was still watching me. Not judgmental, not smug — just there. A calm presence in a world that spun too fast.
"Better?" Xavier asked.
"No," I said flatly.
He exhaled a laugh, just under his breath. It wasn't mocking—it was worse.
Damn him.
It shouldn't matter that he was the only person who could stand in my storm without flinching. It shouldn't matter that every time I broke something, he was there to quietly fix it before anyone else noticed. Xavier Bennett was supposed to be a disposable husband— my shield against the vultures who called themselves my family.
Not the one person who saw me when the crown slipped.
"You think just standing there listening makes a difference?" I demanded, breaking the silence.
"I think," he said, finally looking directly at her, "that venting is only useful if someone actually hears you."
I blinked. That wasn't the answer I expected.
Usually, when I yelled, people scurried to fix things, not listen. No one ever let me just…talk.
"Don't act like you know me all." I tore my gaze away. My hand slipped inside my desk drawer, fingers brushing the thin stack of papers waiting there. My pulse picked up, faster, sharper.
This was it.
I had told myself a hundred times this was the right move. I needed distance, freedom. People were already whispering that I couldn't breathe without my husband, that I owed him everything I had built.
They didn't know the truth that I didn't need him. That's what I wanted to believe.
I snorted, circling him like a predator. "You've been calm for years. Too calm. Too perfect. And I… I've been humoring you, letting you think you matter more than you do." I finally stopped in front of him, leaning slightly, letting my voice drop to a venomous purr.
Xavier was still there, all calm and watching me with those cool grey eyes that had seen every version of me. The heiress. The tyrant. The woman beneath it all.
I reached into the drawer letting my fingers brush over the stack of papers that would blow his perfectly calm mind. "You've handled everything I've thrown at you before. Your calm, your smug confidence… it ends today."
His brow furrowed, but he didn't move. My smirk widened. I could almost hear the thoughts racing behind that composed mask of his. No, not again.
I leaned closer, fanning my breath against his ear. "You've been annoying me for years, Xavier. Well… time to test just how much you can handle."
His lips twitched in the faintest semblance of a smile. "You've got my attention."
"Good," I said, pulling the divorce papers from my bag and letting them peek out between my fingers. My heart pounded from the sheer thrill of watching him process what was coming.
Xavier finally blinked, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it was there. The first crack in his calm armor.
I placed the papers on the desk in front of him, letting them slide slightly, teasingly, so he had to look directly at them. My green eyes met his gray ones, sharp, daring. "Sign these or don't," I said lightly, the smirk still playing on my lips. "Either way… consider this my surprise for you."