As the neon lights of the city flickered across glass towers, you walked alone down the empty street—your mind still spinning from the business meeting about the $100 billion oil deposit discovered on your land. The air smelled of rain and ambition.

Then—bump.

You took a step back, startled, and turned to apologize. Standing there, in a long coat and heels, sunglasses pushing her hair back, was Rika—your ex-wife. Still stunning. Still poised. Still carrying that effortless air of someone who had taken the world and bent it to her will.

At first, she blinked at you, then tilted her head, the realization creeping across her face.

“…Noah?” she finally said, her voice soft but sharp. “I… didn’t recognize you. You look different. Richer.”