Resisting My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 3: From Hamilton to Homeless

Lance clutches the phone harder, the blue veins in his hand seem close to bursting. He throws the phone and it hits the table and breaks it into pieces.

“Stop her!”

He grinds his teeth in anger and the panicked maids quickly flee in all directions to try to stop Andrea before her flashy new look and bold new attitude creates a scandal with the press.

When she appears in public, Mrs. Hamilton is a representative of the entire Hamilton family. In keeping with their image, she dresses conservatively wearing modest, high-necked blouses and dresses, neutral colors and simple and neat hairstyles. Over the last three years, her outfits have been custom made and her hair has been arranged by highly trained specialists. It’s not appropriate for her to be seen in a revealing, red gown.

Elegant and beautiful in her long mermaid dress, Andrea descends the grand staircase with her head held high as a queen. The journalists run to her but bodyguards keep them at a distance. Some of the bolder reporters try to fight their way past the bodyguards to get to Andrea. By now, everyone has heard rumors of the divorce and they all want to get the inside scoop. The bodyguards stand strong and roughly shove the reporters out of the way. After that, no one dares to act rashly, or even take a picture without permission.

There is a collective gasp as Andrea enters the room. She smiles a bewitching smile, capturing everyone’s attention. Mrs. Hamilton is a rare lady of high birth; though her manners are impeccable and her demeanor is charming, she hardly ever grants visits to the press. Now she’s making a rare official appearance. The beauty in her smile and the dignity in her posture set her apart from every other woman in the room. Both men and women can’t help but stare.

The marriage began in this room and it will end here too. The ebony wood dining table sits in the center of the room, set with delicate porcelain china. A rare, specially ordered diamond chandelier hangs above the guests. An atmosphere of elegance and aristocracy permeates the air. Five people sit facing the door: Mr. Aitkens, Mrs. Aitkens, and Andrea’s three sisters.

All the Aitkens have taken their seats already, but no one dares to complain about the Hamiltons’ late appearance. The Hamiltons’ status and power put them beyond criticism.

The atmosphere becomes tense and a hush falls in the dining room. The Aitkens are not pleased to see Andrea. She was always the least favorite child. Even in better times, her sisters teased her and called her the bastard of the family. Now she is divorcing Lance Hamilton and bringing disgrace to the entire Aitkens family. They can barely look at her.

The Aitkens wouldn’t have even come if it weren’t for the possibility of a large settlement or the opportunity to see if somehow one of the other Aitkens women can replace Andrea as Lance’s wife. The second Andrea sits down her sisters begin to whisper:

“I knew three years ago that Lance would kick her out. Lance would only marry a lady who shares his status. A child born out of wedlock doesn’t deserve him.”

“I heard that they’ve slept in separate rooms ever since they got married. Lance never lays a finger on her. No wonder she hasn’t produced an heir.”

“The news that Lance is kicking her out will soon spread all over the city. No one else will ever take a woman involved in such a scandal.”

“I heard that she tried to jump into the sea to catch Lance’s attention, but failed. Then she became a laughing stock. It only alienated Lance even more.”

“Did you know Lance gave her a knife to cut her wrists after she was pulled from the ocean? But you know what? She chickened out and threw the knife into the sea. How embarrassing is she? Like it’s not humiliating enough for us to be related to her already.”

Jumping in the sea to commit suicide? Why did that sound wrong? Andrea hazily remembered somehow falling from the deck while she was enjoying the night view at a cruise party last month. This rumor couldn’t be a coincidence. And why couldn’t she remember how she fell?

“Andrea, is it true that you’re divorcing Lance?” Gabrielle, Andrea’s youngest unmarried sister asks her.

Andrea carefully selects a glass from the table and takes a sip. She gives her sister a coy smile. The slight upturn of her rosy lips is enticing and beautiful. Her other sisters turn to look at her.

“There’s definitely something different about her,” they think.

She used to wear the plainest clothes and makeup. Her wardrobe was full of white and gray. She never dared to raise her head and talk to other people in public. People mocked her as Lance’s poodle, well-kept and always begging for his attention. She was more humble than a servant. But now she’s in a ruby red with gown, wearing a strong and prideful expression. If they didn’t know better, her sisters would believe she was an entirely different person.

Spitefully, they start murmuring amongst themselves, “Her dress is so distasteful. No wonder she’s going to be reduced to a homeless outcast.”

“She surely wants to cover the humiliation of being ejected with that flashy outfit.”

Andrea slowly swirls her wine, and pretends not to hear her sisters’ taunts and questions.

“Gabby, you know how Lance asked me about you,” she says, ”He likes young and quiet woman. Just the other day he said…”

Thin-skinned Gabrielle can’t help blushing from ear to ear at Andrea’s words

“What else did he say?” she asks with expectation in her voice.

Anyone with a clue can tell Andrea is teasing Gabrielle—she’s older and noisier than Andrea. But the second youngest Miss Aitkens is clearly more concerned about Lance. She’d rather risk becoming the butt of her sister’s joke than lose a chance with Lance Hamilton.

“What Lance has to say is not to be discussed by anyone.”

A voice comes from behind them and they turn to the door. An old but distinguished woman leads a small group into the room. This woman is Mrs. Hamilton, Lance’s mother, matriarch of the family.

The Aitkens stand up and lower their heads in shame and awe. They are terrified of creating the wrong impression and bringing even more disgrace and embarrassment to their family. No one dares to sit without her permission. They stand like soldiers awaiting inspection by their general.

Andrea just leans against the brocade chair. She doesn’t even straighten her posture. Mrs. Hamilton ignores this behavior; she’s certainly not going to make a scene in front of the press. Besides, she knows Andrea will soon be gone.

“You’ve asked the media here in an attempt to get more money in the divorce, I get it,” Mrs. Hamilton says, “Now Robert, ask them to leave.”

She gives a dismissive wave and advances further into the room. Despite her age, her posture is regal; her back is as straight as a pole, and she holds her head at a perfect forty-five degree angle, emphasizing her swan-like neck.

“Mrs. Hamilton, Mr. Hamilton says he has some announcement to make,” Robert says nervously, “He asks us to allow the press to stay.”

Mrs. Hamilton slowly raises her eyebrows, “Very well, get her to sign the agreement.” Her face turns sly as she makes a dig at Andrea, “She thought she could stay in the coop without laying an egg, but she’s learned her lesson.”

Efficiently, Robert removes papers from a folder and places them in front of Andrea. He offers her a golden pen, “Miss Aitkens, the papers state that you’ll get five billion dollars as compensation for the divorce.”

Andrea can’t believe the way Robert is speaking to her, using a word like “compensation” and changing “Mrs. Hamilton” into “Miss Aitkens.” Andrea rolls her eyes at Mrs. Hamilton. A butler wouldn’t dare to be so disrespectful without superior authority. Does he really have to use a word as insulting as compensation? Are they really going to treat her like some p********e?

“No,” she thinks with humor, “They’re offering me five billion dollars. I suppose that makes me a rather high-end call girl.”

The Aitkens’ eyes widen when they hear Robert announce the settlement. The Hamiltons seem to pay five billion dollars as casually as they tip.

“Miss Aitkens, if there aren’t any problems, please sign on the blank line down here,” Robert urges.

Andrea quickly skims the agreement and chuckles, “I do have a problem actually.”