Chapter 5

Zayn pocketed the two-million-dollar check without a second thought. After everything he'd poured into BeechCorp, only to get tossed aside, why let the Beech family off easy?

With the check in hand, he signed the share transfer agreement Yvonne had prepared. The divorce papers were processed in minutes, and soon, they were walking out of the main hall.

Yvonne turned to him, her voice cold. "Today just proves that divorcing you was the right choice. Two years, and you haven't changed. All you care about is squeezing every last cent from BeechCorp.

"Even if I don't love you anymore, we were married. But for a bit of money, you've thrown any trace of respect away.

"Honestly, it's disappointing."

Zayn couldn’t help but laugh. When he was talking about love, all she cared about was money. Now that he was talking about money, suddenly she wanted to talk about love? Did she think he was an idiot?

"So, you're saying I should've just handed back the shares for what I paid?" he asked.

"Forget it. This is pointless," she sneered. "Spend carefully. Find some average woman to settle down with. Two million should last you a lifetime."

She added, "Oh, and keep the house. Consider it a little extra from me."

Zayn's face went cold. "No need. I prefer things clean."

Her expression darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He walked to the side and lit a cigarette, clearly done with her.

Yvonne pointed at him and snapped. "Zayn! Are you implying I’m dirty?"

Just then, Amelia appeared beside him, slipping her arm through his. Wrapped in her trademark scarf and sunglasses. "Your ex-wife?"

She looked Yvonne up and down. "Pretty, nice style... but maybe a touch on the mature side."

At twenty-seven, Yvonne was indeed a few years older than Amelia, who was only twenty-four. Blunt as it was, the comment wasn't exactly off the mark.

Yvonne's eyes flashed with irritation. "And who exactly are you to judge me?"

Amelia smiled. "Oh, me? I'm about to be Zayn's new wife."

Yvonne froze for a moment. Her face tightened as resentment crept in. 'He found someone else already?'

"Impressive, Zayn," she sneered. "Didn't waste a second replacing me, did you? I used to feel a bit guilty, but I guess I didn't need to."

She turned to Amelia, her tone icy. "Your standards must be pretty low. He's my leftovers, and you're treating him like some kind of prize. What are you, running a recycling business?"

Amelia glanced at Zayn's face, shrugged playfully. "No need to be so harsh. Sure, Zayn's a little... ordinary, but he's easy on the eyes. I like a handsome guy."

Yvonne scoffed. "Interesting taste. But if you're here to register your marriage, why are you all wrapped up? Embarrassed to show your face?"

Amelia chuckled. "Oh, this? Just trying not to overwhelm the locals."

"Seriously? Where'd you get that kind of confidence?"

Yvonne didn’t think she would ever be outdone in the looks department.

Zayn sighed, already feeling a headache forming, and tugged on Amelia's arm. "There's no point talking to her. Let's just go in and get this paperwork done."

But Amelia flashed a sugary smile, drawing it out. "No, honey. Let's give certain people a little reminder of how gorgeous your wife is."

She slipped off her sunglasses and scarf, revealing her striking face.

The effect was immediate.

Yvonne was beautiful, sure, but standing next to Amelia, she practically faded.

For a second, there was just silence—then the rapid clicks of cameras filled the air.

"Oh wow, that's Amelia Arden..."

"Wait, is she at here with a guy?"

"No way, Amelia Arden is getting married?"

Amelia had been filming in Cloudport recently, so the paparazzi were practically stalking her. The second she made her move, they swarmed, like bees to honey.

"Miss Arden, are you here to register your marriage?"

"Miss Arden, can you tell us more about your husband?"

"What about those rumors with Director Keating? Is this to clear things up?"

"Step back!" Her bodyguards rushed in, forming a human wall.

Amelia’s manager was right behind them—a no-nonsense woman named Kate, in her thirties, with short hair and a look that screamed 'Don’t mess with me.'

"Please, Amelia, enough with the drama. Just get inside and finish registering already," she groaned.

Yvonne stood there, frozen for a second as it hit her—Amelia was the Amelia Arden. Her brain took a moment to catch up, and she muttered to herself, 'Zayn, I seriously underestimated you.'

But as the shock wore off, Yvonne quickly shook it off, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

In her mind, sure, celebs got all the shine, but they were just puppets, owned by whoever wrote their checks.

As for her? She had a Harvard MBA. She’d be the one controlling the capital that decided who stayed on top and who faded into obscurity. She couldn't help but think she and Amelia were living in completely different leagues.

Remembering the gossip about Amelia and that hotshot director Lowell Keating, Yvonne smirked. "So, Miss Arden, finally over Lowell Keating, huh? Guess you've moved on from the whole 'older man' thing?"

Amelia just smiled coolly. "My private life? Not your business." Then she turned to Zayn, her voice going all sugary. "Babe, let's go inside and finish this. No need to let anyone spoil our big day."

Zayn nodded, happy to escape, and they made a beeline for the marriage registry.

Once they were out of earshot, he glanced at her. "Thanks for the save back there."

Amelia dropped his arm, her smile fading. "Don't get used to it. I just couldn't stand her attitude."

Twenty minutes later, they stepped back outside, paperwork done. The crowd had thinned, but a few paparazzi and gawkers still lingered. Among them were Yvonne and Eric, stuck in the same spot.

Yvonne marched right up when she saw them. "Zayn, tell her to back off. I need a word with you."

Before Zayn could even respond, Amelia flashed a bright smile. “Hey, whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it right here. Zayn’s my husband now, so no reason for me to go anywhere.”

Yvonne's eyes narrowed. "Zayn, let's be real: you won't be able to keep a woman like her.

"I don’t know how you even met, but you have no clue what you're getting into. Showbiz? It’s messy, it’s corrupt, and you can't even begin to understand how ugly it gets.

"And let's face it—you’re just... well, average. What makes you think someone like her, a top-tier actress, would even think about sticking with you?"

"I’m telling you this for your own good," Yvonne added. "Think about it, okay?"

With that, she turned on her heel, dragging Eric along.