He Kicked Me into a Glass Display, Thinking I Was a Homeless Beggar. He Had No Idea My Husband Was the City's Most Ruthless Ghost

The rain poured down on the city, washing the grime into the gutters. Trevor stood on the sidewalk outside his luxury apartment building, completely soaked. His keycard had flashed red. The doorman, who usually greeted him with a warm smile, had bluntly informed him that his lease had been terminated by the landlord—a subsidiary of Blackwood Enterprises.

He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking from the cold and the shock. He dialed Chloe’s number.

“The number you have reached is no longer in service.”

He called his bank. Frozen. Suspicious activity, they claimed. Pending a federal review that could take months.

In less than twelve hours, he had lost his job, his fiancé, his home, and his money. He was left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the leather briefcase in his hand. He looked down at his expensive, pointed-toe dress shoes—the same shoes he had used to kick Sadi. They were ruined, scuffed and soaked with dirty rainwater.

Panic, raw and suffocating, clawed at his throat. This couldn't be happening. He was Trevor! He had clawed his way out of mediocrity! He couldn't go back to being a nobody.

A sleek, black town car pulled up to the curb, its tires splashing muddy water onto Trevor’s legs. The tinted rear window rolled down just an inch.

Trevor stepped forward, desperation overriding his pride. “Please! Just let me talk to her! Let me talk to Sadi!”

The window rolled down fully. It wasn't Sadi. It was a man in a perfectly tailored dark suit. His eyes were cold, unreadable, and devoid of any human empathy. It was the face of a man who had ended dynasties before his morning coffee.

Roman Blackwood.

Trevor shrank back, his knees physically trembling. “Mr. Blackwood… please. I didn't know. I swear to God I didn't know.”

Roman didn't raise his voice. He didn't even look angry. He looked completely, terrifyingly bored. “Three years ago, you left a woman who supported you, and you stole her last six hundred dollars.”

Trevor choked on his own breath. “I… I was going to pay it back.”

“You kicked my wife over a bruised ego,” Roman continued softly, ignoring Trevor’s pathetic excuse. “You thought because she wore plain clothes, she was beneath you. You thought power was about the brand on your watch.”

Roman adjusted his cuffs. “You have exactly six hundred dollars in an offshore account that I graciously left untouched. It is all you will ever have in this city. Every law firm, every fast-food restaurant, every homeless shelter in this state knows your name. If you attempt to find work, you will be rejected. If you attempt to beg, you will be ignored.”

“You can't do this!” Trevor screamed, his composure finally breaking. “You can't just erase me!”