Too Late, Madam: Your Husband Quit

Too Late, Madam: Your Husband Quit

Luo Lijiang

5.0
Comment(s)
2.5K
View
300
Chapters

For two years, I was Hillary Mitchell's trophy husband-a velvet cushion in public, a parasite in whispers. All part of a contract. The day it ended, I dropped my ring and walked away. I thought I was free. But freedom was a lie. Hillary froze my $5 million, leaving me broke and forced to protect spoiled heiress Brielle Harris. Now I'm trapped between two cages: Hillary's mansion and Brielle's campus. A "simp" by day, a pawn by night. Then Hillary saw us together. She didn't just want me back-she wanted to own me. She dug up my sealed past: the foster violence, the suicide attempt. "You belong to this family forever," she whispered, eyes hungry. That's when I snapped. I tore both contracts apart. If I'm going to be a monster... I'll be the one they never see coming.

Too Late, Madam: Your Husband Quit Chapter 1 No.1

The champagne was cold, but the sweat trickling down Christopher Haney's spine was hot.

He stood exactly half a step behind Hillary Mitchell, his posture slumped just enough to look submissive, but not enough to look like a hunchback. It was a calculated angle. Everything about Christopher was calculated.

The Great Hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art was a cavern of echoes and diamonds. The air smelled of expensive perfume, old stone, and the specific, metallic scent of judgment. Christopher held Hillary's clutch-a Judith Leiber crystal-encrusted thing that cost more than his foster mother's house-in both hands, like a sacred offering.

He felt the eyes on him.

They were heavy, sticky gazes from the Manhattan elite. He didn't need to look up to know what they were thinking. There's the parasite. The trophy husband. The man who married a trust fund.

Christopher let his shoulders round forward. He offered a weak, apologetic smile to a passing waiter. This was part of the package. The contract required him to be the perfect foil to Hillary's ice-queen dominance. If she was the diamond, he was the velvet cushion-dull, soft, and beneath her.

"Stop fidgeting," Hillary hissed. She didn't turn her head. Her smile remained fixed for the flashing cameras of the paparazzi line, but her voice was a razor blade.

"Sorry, darling," Christopher mumbled, pitching his voice to sound pathetic. "My feet hurt."

Hillary let out a sharp breath through her nose. "You're embarrassing me. Stand up straight."

Before Christopher could adjust his stance, a shadow fell over them. A heavy hand clapped onto Christopher's shoulder, jarring his bones.

"Well, if it isn't the happy couple."

Calhoun Steele. Hillary's ex-fiancé, and a man who wore his arrogance like a second skin. He was wearing a tuxedo that fit too well, smelling of scotch and aggressive musk.

Christopher flinched. He made sure the flinch was visible.

"Calhoun," Hillary said, her tone frosty. "You're drunk."

"And you're married to a golden retriever," Calhoun laughed. He leaned in, his weight pushing Christopher off balance. Calhoun held a flute of champagne in his other hand. With a tilt of his wrist that was too precise to be an accident, the amber liquid sloshed over the rim.

It splashed onto Christopher's lapel. The cheap rental fabric soaked it up instantly.

"Oops," Calhoun grinned, his teeth white and predatory. "My bad, Chris. Send me the bill for the dry cleaning. Oh, wait-Hillary pays your bills, doesn't she?"

The circle of socialites around them tittered. It was a cruel, high-pitched sound.

Christopher looked down at the stain. It was spreading, dark and wet against the black. He felt the cold liquid seep through to his shirt, touching his skin.

He didn't get angry. He didn't shove Calhoun.

He looked up, widening his eyes, letting his lower lip tremble just a fraction. "It's... it's okay, Mr. Steele. Accidents happen."

He reached for a napkin from a passing tray, his hands shaking. He dabbed at the stain frantically, looking like a servant terrified of a stain.

Hillary made a sound of pure disgust. She wasn't looking at Calhoun with anger; she was looking at Christopher with loathing. She hated weakness. And Christopher was giving her a masterclass in it.

"Go to the restroom," she ordered, her voice low and venomous. "Clean yourself up. You look pathetic."

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'm sorry, Hillary."

Christopher bowed his head, backing away. He nearly tripped over his own feet, eliciting another round of laughter from Calhoun's group.

He walked away, keeping his head down, his shoulders hunched. He navigated the sea of silk gowns and tuxedos, apologizing to anyone he brushed against.

He pushed open the heavy oak door of the men's restroom. It was empty.

Christopher checked the stalls. Empty.

He walked to the furthest sink and turned on the faucet. The water ran cold. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. The pathetic, terrified look in his eyes vanished. The slump in his shoulders corrected itself with a snap. His spine straightened.

He looked at the digital watch on his wrist. It was a Casio, black rubber, jarringly out of place with the tuxedo.

11:55 PM.

Five minutes.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded packet of wet wipes. He scrubbed the champagne stain with efficient, brutal strokes. He didn't care about the fabric; he just wanted the smell of Calhoun off him.

He tossed the wipe into the trash. His face was blank. Not angry. Not sad. Just empty.

Four minutes.

He adjusted his cuffs. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully gelled style Hillary preferred.

Three minutes.

He unlocked the restroom door and stepped back out into the gala. The noise hit him like a physical wave. He scanned the room. Hillary was standing near the Temple of Dendur, speaking with Calhoun. Calhoun's hand was resting on the small of her back.

Hillary wasn't pushing him away.

Two minutes.

Christopher walked toward them. He didn't weave through the crowd this time. He cut a straight line. His stride was longer. His chin was up.

Hillary sensed him coming. She turned, her eyebrows knitting together, ready to scold him for taking too long.

"Christopher, where have you-"

She stopped.

Christopher stopped three feet away from her. He didn't look at her face. He looked at the space between her eyes.

His watch vibrated against his wrist bone. A single, short buzz.

00:00 AM.

May 2nd.

The Non-Disclosure Agreement, specifically Clause 4.2 regarding "Public Maintenance of Marital Image," had just expired.

Christopher didn't speak. He raised his left hand.

With his right hand, he gripped the platinum wedding band on his ring finger. It was tight. He twisted it. The skin bunched and turned white, then red.

He pulled.

The ring slid off.

The movement caught the light. Hillary's eyes widened. Calhoun's smirk faltered.

A waiter walked by with a tray of empty glasses. Christopher didn't look at the waiter. He simply extended his hand and dropped the ring.

Clink.

The sound was sharp, high-pitched, and impossible to ignore. It hit the base of a crystal flute and settled there, a piece of metal among the dregs of expensive wine.

Christopher lowered his hand. He looked at Hillary. For the first time in two years, he really looked at her.

"Goodbye, Hillary."

His voice was different. It was an octave lower, stripped of the nasal whine he had cultivated. It was smooth, dark, and indifferent.

He turned his back on her.

"Christopher?" Hillary's voice cracked. It wasn't a command. It was a question.

He kept walking.

"Christopher!" She shouted his name. Heads turned. The murmur of the crowd died down.

A security guard near the entrance, a man Christopher knew named Gary, stepped forward to intercept him. "Mr. Haney, Mrs. Mitchell is calling you."

Christopher didn't slow down. He knew Gary had a bad left knee from college football. He feinted right, then slipped past Gary's left side before the big man could pivot.

He pushed the heavy brass doors of the museum open.

The night air of New York City rushed into his lungs. It tasted of exhaust and freedom.

He walked down the iconic steps of the Met. He reached up and undid his bowtie. He pulled the strip of silk from his collar and dropped it into a wire trash can without breaking his stride.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone-the iPhone 14 Pro Hillary had bought him. He pressed the power button and held it until the screen went black. Then, he used his thumbnail to pop the SIM card tray. He snapped the tiny chip in half and flicked the pieces into the gutter.

He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a burner flip phone.

He didn't look back at the museum. He didn't look back at the millions of dollars, the caviar, or the woman who technically still owned him on paper.

He merged into the shadows of Fifth Avenue, just another dark figure in the city that never sleeps.

Continue Reading

Other books by Luo Lijiang

More
Marrying My Ex's Ruthless Uncle

Marrying My Ex's Ruthless Uncle

Modern

5.0

I'm Kailee Lynn. On the night of my engagement party, my fiancé Julian left me standing alone in front of every wealthy guest in the city, humiliating me without a single shred of mercy. I became the biggest laughingstock of high society overnight, written off as a nobody from a small town with no status, no backing, and no right to stand among them. Everyone looked down on me, convinced I was weak and easy to push around. But I've never been one to swallow insults or accept defeat. Instead of fleeing in shame, I turned and walked straight toward the darkest, most intimidating figure in the entire banquet hall-Ervin Hendricks, the reclusive and ruthless fifth heir of the powerful Hendricks family. Rumors followed him everywhere: they said he was confined to a wheelchair, cold-blooded, dangerously unhinged, and cruel enough to ruin anyone who crossed him. The entire room held its breath, certain I was walking straight to my doom. I lifted my chin, met his sharp gaze steadily, and spoke in a calm, unshakable tone: "Ervin Hendricks. Marry me. I'll clear every obstacle in your path and help you seize everything that belongs to you. In return, you'll stand by my side and shield me from this world's cruelty." In the blink of an eye, I went from Julian's discarded fiancée to his aunt by marriage, the official Mrs. Hendricks. The whole town waited eagerly to watch me break down, to see me suffer at Ervin's hands and beg for mercy. They had no clue I was hiding far more than they could ever imagine. I'm the elite medical genius that top hospitals beg to consult, the unbeatable hacker who can crack any system in minutes, the hidden tycoon pulling strings behind global empires, and the secret powerhouse even the most elite families dare not cross. One by one, my true identities were unveiled, and every person who once mocked me fell silent, bowing to my power. As for Julian? He watched me rise from a social outcast to the most feared and respected woman in the city, standing proudly beside the all-powerful Ervin Hendricks. Meanwhile, his own fortune crumbled, his reputation was in tatters, and the life he'd chased after leaving me turned into a complete disaster. He was consumed by regret, so desperate he lost his mind. He chased me down at every high-society event, his eyes red with guilt and desperation, pleading for forgiveness, groveling to take back every cruel word, begging me to give him a second chance. He whined about how he'd made the worst mistake of his life, how he'd thrown away the only person who could have made him truly successful. I felt nothing but cold contempt for him. You cast me aside like worthless trash when you thought I had nothing to offer. You chose arrogance and greed over loyalty, and now you think a few empty apologies can erase that? I didn't even spare him a glance, simply linking my arm through Ervin's and stepping past him without a second thought. And then, the man everyone believed would never walk again suddenly rose from his wheelchair, pulled me tight against his chest, and whispered in a deep, soft, and utterly possessive voice that only I could hear: "Kailee. You're my little treasure, my only obsession, and the only person I'll ever love and protect with everything I have." This life, I'm taking down every enemy that wronged me, dominating every circle I step into, and making the most powerful man in the city wrap himself entirely around my finger.

The Ruined Heiress and Her Ruthless Monster

The Ruined Heiress and Her Ruthless Monster

Modern

5.0

My fiancé cheated on me with a bottle service girl on the giant screen at our own engagement party. I woke up the next morning in a strange bed, smelling of sandalwood and expensive scotch, only to realize I was in the penthouse of Julian Blackwood—the man I had cruelly humiliated ten years ago. Before I could even process the shame, my world collapsed. My father suffered a massive stroke, and my half-brother Conrad immediately moved to seize the family empire, while a swarm of illegitimate siblings emerged to strip us of every cent. "You're a stain on my floor, Vivian," Julian told me, his eyes as cold as a stormy sea. He didn't just want me gone; he wanted to watch me go bankrupt. My stepmother hissed that I needed to get on my knees and beg him to be our lawyer, or we’d end up on the street. Then, a biker with a metal bat tried to kill me on a dark Hamptons road, proving my own family had already put a price on my head. I didn't understand why the boy I once called "the gardener's son" was now the only one standing between me and a shallow grave. Julian saved my life from the wreck, but his touch felt like a threat. Was he protecting me, or just making sure he was the one who got to finish me off? Standing in the lobby of Blackwood & Partners, I looked straight into the security cameras and told the biggest lie of my life. I told the world that Julian was obsessed with me, turning a restraining order into a scandalous affair. If I had to be a villain to survive my own family, I would be the most dangerous one New York had ever seen.

The Genius Heiress They Tried To Break

The Genius Heiress They Tried To Break

Mafia

5.0

I stood outside the Genovese estate in the freezing rain for two hours, waiting for the man I loved to let me in. I was Elena Russo, the brilliant forensic accountant who had just laundered forty million dollars for the family. I was the adopted daughter, the fixer, and the fiancée of the Underboss, Luca. But the moment Sofia, the "real" daughter, returned, I became nothing but a placeholder. Luca looked me in the eye, swirling his scotch, and delivered the blow. "I need you to hand your work over to Sofia. She needs the prestige to be accepted by the Commission." He demanded I give up my life’s work—a complex laundering algorithm—so his new favorite could take the credit. When I refused, the humiliation began. Sofia faked a fall into the pool, and my adoptive father kicked me into the deep end to "teach me a lesson." I nearly drowned. Luca didn't save me. He handed me a diving mask and told me to find Sofia's lost ring at the bottom of the freezing pool before I was allowed to warm up. They stole my code. They ruined my reputation at the university. They slapped me in front of the press. They thought I was a stray dog with nowhere to go. They were wrong. Lying in the hospital bed, I dialed a number I had memorized years ago. "This is Asset 724," I whispered. "I'm ready to come home." The next day, the Russo empire began to crumble. And when a convoy of black SUVs arrived to collect me, Luca finally realized his mistake. My real father wasn't a nobody. He was Don Moretti, the King of the West Coast. And he was here to burn their world to ash.

Betrayal's Sting: A Husband's Reckoning

Betrayal's Sting: A Husband's Reckoning

Romance

5.0

Tonight was supposed to be special. Our fifth anniversary. I' d booked our favorite restaurant, bought a new shirt Chloe loved. Then, scrolling through social media, a photo from her company' s group chat caught my eye. Chloe, laughing, her hand resting on the arm of her intern, Liam. The caption called it "burning the midnight oil." I called it a lie. I typed a reply, directly into the chat: "Looks like fun. Chloe, I\'m still waiting for our anniversary dinner. The reservation was for seven." My phone rang instantly. It was Chloe, her voice a furious hiss. "What the hell do you think you\'re doing? Are you trying to embarrass me?" "Embarrass you?" I retorted, her dismissive tone burning me. "I' m sitting here alone on our anniversary. You told me you were stuck in a meeting." She called me needy, childish, then hung up. All my sacrifices, my life savings poured into her startup, the sleepless nights coding her company' s foundation – for this? To be a ghost in her shiny, successful life? The truth was laid bare: I was just an afterthought. I looked at our wedding photo, so full of hope, then slowly, deliberately, turned it face down. Then I blocked her. The next morning, her company's lead engineer called, panicking. "It's the Genesis build. It's a complete disaster. Liam broke it." Chloe had brushed off my warnings about Liam's sloppy code. She called him a rockstar. Now, she needed me to fix her golden boy' s mess. She sent her assistant to drag me to the office. Then Chloe herself called from the assistant's phone. "Ethan Miller, you get down here right now!" She tried to smooth-talk me, sweet-talking about "us." And then I heard it. A soft, wet sound, a kiss. And Liam' s voice. "Is he giving you trouble, boss? Let me talk to him." Chloe' s hushed, affectionate whisper: "It's fine, sweetie. I've got this." My world stopped. "Sweetie?" I repeated, the word dripping with mock sweetness. "Is that what you call your interns now, Chloe?" The betrayal, concrete and undeniable, sliced through me. All that anger, all that pain, crystallized into one chilling realization: "You don't need me. You need my work. There's a difference." "Consider your contract terminated," she threatened. "Consider it terminated," I replied, and hung up. I finally felt nothing. Just a vast, empty space where five years of my life used to be. I was done.

You'll also like

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

Nathaniel Stone

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Jessica C. Dolan

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Too Late, Madam: Your Husband Quit Too Late, Madam: Your Husband Quit Luo Lijiang Modern
“For two years, I was Hillary Mitchell's trophy husband-a velvet cushion in public, a parasite in whispers. All part of a contract. The day it ended, I dropped my ring and walked away. I thought I was free. But freedom was a lie. Hillary froze my $5 million, leaving me broke and forced to protect spoiled heiress Brielle Harris. Now I'm trapped between two cages: Hillary's mansion and Brielle's campus. A "simp" by day, a pawn by night. Then Hillary saw us together. She didn't just want me back-she wanted to own me. She dug up my sealed past: the foster violence, the suicide attempt. "You belong to this family forever," she whispered, eyes hungry. That's when I snapped. I tore both contracts apart. If I'm going to be a monster... I'll be the one they never see coming.”
1

Chapter 1 No.1

19/01/2026

2

Chapter 2 No.2

19/01/2026

3

Chapter 3 No.3

19/01/2026

4

Chapter 4 No.4

19/01/2026

5

Chapter 5 No.5

19/01/2026

6

Chapter 6 No.6

19/01/2026

7

Chapter 7 No.7

19/01/2026

8

Chapter 8 No.8

19/01/2026

9

Chapter 9 No.9

19/01/2026

10

Chapter 10 No.10

19/01/2026

11

Chapter 11 No.11

20/01/2026

12

Chapter 12 No.12

20/01/2026

13

Chapter 13 No.13

20/01/2026

14

Chapter 14 No.14

20/01/2026

15

Chapter 15 No.15

20/01/2026

16

Chapter 16 No.16

20/01/2026

17

Chapter 17 No.17

20/01/2026

18

Chapter 18 No.18

20/01/2026

19

Chapter 19 No.19

20/01/2026

20

Chapter 20 No.20

20/01/2026

21

Chapter 21 No.21

20/01/2026

22

Chapter 22 No.22

20/01/2026

23

Chapter 23 No.23

20/01/2026

24

Chapter 24 No.24

20/01/2026

25

Chapter 25 No.25

20/01/2026

26

Chapter 26 No.26

20/01/2026

27

Chapter 27 No.27

20/01/2026

28

Chapter 28 No.28

20/01/2026

29

Chapter 29 No.29

20/01/2026

30

Chapter 30 No.30

20/01/2026

31

Chapter 31 No.31

20/01/2026

32

Chapter 32 No.32

20/01/2026

33

Chapter 33 No.33

20/01/2026

34

Chapter 34 No.34

20/01/2026

35

Chapter 35 No.35

20/01/2026

36

Chapter 36 No.36

20/01/2026

37

Chapter 37 No.37

20/01/2026

38

Chapter 38 No.38

20/01/2026

39

Chapter 39 No.39

20/01/2026

40

Chapter 40 No.40

20/01/2026