THE BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND WHO THOUGHT I’D NEVER LEAVE (The Billionaire Husbands Collection #5)

PROLOGUE THE NIGHT I STOPPED WAITING

The clock on the mantel struck midnight.

Seraphina Wren was still sitting alone at the dining table.

Two untouched plates sat between the silver candleholders. The food had gone cold nearly an hour ago, but she hadn't bothered asking the staff to clear it. She had spent the last three years learning that waiting for Lucien Armand meant becoming very good at pretending disappointment didn't hurt.

Tonight, she had promised herself she wouldn't do it anymore.

Her fingers rested loosely around the stem of her wineglass as she stared at the empty chair across from her.

Lucien had promised he would be home for dinner.

Not a vague promise.

Not one of those careless, I'll try promises he made when his mind was already somewhere else.

He had looked directly at her that morning and said, "I'll be home tonight, Seraphina."

She had believed him.

That was the part she hated most.

She still believed him.

Even after everything.

Even after the countless dinners eaten alone. The anniversaries interrupted by business calls. The mornings when he left before she woke and the nights when she fell asleep waiting for the sound of his car outside.

She had always found another explanation.

Lucien was busy.

Lucien was under pressure.

Lucien had responsibilities.

Lucien would make it up to her.

She had defended him so many times that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to defend herself.

A soft sound came from the hallway.

Seraphina lifted her head.

For one foolish second, hope rushed through her.

Then the front doors opened.

Lucien walked inside.

He was still wearing the charcoal suit he had left in that morning, though his tie had been loosened and his expression carried the exhaustion of a man who had spent the entire day commanding rooms.

He looked powerful.

Untouchable.

Exactly like the man the world believed he was.

Seraphina looked at the clock.

12:17 a.m.

Lucien noticed her sitting there.

His expression changed slightly.

"You're still awake."

The words were simple.

Almost casual.

Seraphina swallowed.

"I was waiting for you."

Lucien glanced toward the dining table.

"I'm sorry."

She waited.

That was it.

Two words.

No explanation.

No attempt to sit down.

No realization that she had been waiting for hours because he had promised her he would come home.

He pulled out his phone.

Seraphina stared at him.

"You're not going to ask why I wanted you home?"

Lucien looked up.

Something in her voice finally made him pause.

"Was something wrong?"

She almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, she looked down at her hands.

"No."

"Seraphina."

"I'm fine."

He studied her for a moment.

Then his phone vibrated.

His attention immediately shifted.

She saw the familiar change in his eyes—the quiet urgency that always appeared whenever the outside world demanded him.

He looked at the screen.

Seraphina didn't need to ask who it was.

"Is it Eveline?" she whispered.

Lucien's jaw tightened.

"Yes."

Of course.

His mother.

Eveline Armand had always known how to summon her son.

One phone call from her could pull Lucien away from anything.

Even his wife.

"She needs me at the house tomorrow morning," he said.

Seraphina nodded slowly.

"Of course she does."

"Seraphina—"

"Don't."

He stopped.

She pushed her chair back.

The sound scraped against the marble floor.

"I don't want to fight."

"I'm not trying to fight with you."

"That's the problem, Lucien."

He frowned.

"What is?"

"You never fight for us."

Silence filled the room.

For the first time that night, Lucien put his phone down.

Seraphina looked at him, and something inside her ached because a small part of her still wanted him to say the right thing.

She wanted him to cross the room.

She wanted him to take her hand.

She wanted him to tell her that she mattered more than business, more than appearances, more than his mother's approval.

Instead, he said, "You're making this bigger than it is."

Her heart went still.

There it was.

The sentence that finally ended something.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly.

Like a door closing.

Seraphina nodded.

"Maybe you're right."

Lucien stood.

"You're upset. We should talk about this tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

Another promise.

Another delay.

Another reason for her to wait.

She looked at the man she had loved for years.

The man she had married believing that eventually he would see her.

Really see her.

She remembered the beginning.

She remembered how Lucien once held her hand beneath a rain-soaked awning and promised that no matter how difficult life became, she would never have to face it alone.

She had believed every word.

But somewhere along the way, she had become the only person fighting to keep those promises alive.

"I won't be here tomorrow," she said.

Lucien went completely still.

"What?"

Seraphina turned toward the hallway.

"I'm leaving."

His expression hardened with disbelief.

"Leaving where?"

"Somewhere I can breathe."

"Seraphina, it's after midnight."

"I know."

"You can't just walk out because you're angry."

She looked back at him.

"I'm not angry anymore."

That frightened him.

She could see it.

For the first time, Lucien seemed unable to understand the woman standing in front of him.

Because anger meant she still expected something.

Anger meant she still wanted him to change.

But Seraphina wasn't angry.

She was tired.

Tired of asking.

Tired of forgiving.

Tired of being patient.

Tired of defending a marriage that Lucien seemed confident would survive without his effort.

She walked upstairs.

Lucien followed.

"Seraphina."

She entered their bedroom and opened the wardrobe.

He watched as she pulled a small suitcase from the closet.

"You can't be serious."

She placed a few clothes inside.

"Seraphina."

She kept packing.

"You're really leaving?"

She stopped.

Her hand rested on the suitcase.

Then she looked at him.

"I think I've been leaving for a long time, Lucien."

He said nothing.

"I just kept hoping you'd notice."

Those words landed harder than any accusation could have.

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Seraphina closed the suitcase.

She walked past him.

At the bedroom door, she stopped.

She wanted him to say something.

Anything.

Don't go.

I'll change.

I need you.

But Lucien remained silent.

So she nodded to herself.

That was her answer.

She walked downstairs.

She walked through the grand foyer where their wedding photograph still stood beneath a crystal chandelier.

She looked at it once.

Then she turned away.

Outside, the night air touched her face.

For the first time in years, Seraphina felt strangely light.

Behind her, Lucien stood in the doorway.

He looked confused.

Almost offended.

As if he still believed she would return before morning.

As if leaving him was something she could never truly do.

Seraphina placed her suitcase into the car.

She didn't cry.

She didn't threaten him.

She didn't ask him to follow.

She simply got inside.

As the car pulled away from the Armand estate, she looked through the window one final time.

Lucien was still standing there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Certain she would come back.

Seraphina turned her face toward the road.

She had spent years waiting for Lucien Armand to choose her.

Tonight, she finally chose herself.