Freezed

The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback

Zhi Yao

For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties. But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom. Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot. Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years. "You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic." My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support. They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets. I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life. But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree. Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate. When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block.

Billionaires Divorce Billionaire Female-Centered Divorce Personal Growth

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The bedroom was dimly lit, emanating a depressing aura. Melissa Sherman fell on the floor, clutching her stomach.

The pregnancy caused her discomfort. The stomach cramps were unbearable. Her face was pale as paper. She was drenched in a cold sweat.

Just then, the bedroom door flew open, and a man came into her sight.

Melissa reached out her hand, asking for help. "Honey, help me..."

However, a shiver ran down her spine when she met the man's cold, distant gaze.

"Melissa, is this what you want?" The man's voice dripped with disgust. "You played tricks and made me sleep with you. Do you think that will make me fall in love with you?"

Melissa and Everett Mayfield were engaged since childhood. Eventually, the two got married under their parents' arrangement. However, Everett didn't like her.

They were married for three years, but everyone knew her husband had no feelings for her, and she was just the nominal Mrs. Mayfield—nothing more than that. Therefore, everyone ridiculed her for three years.

Two months ago, the Mayfield Group held a banquet, and Melissa attended it as Everett's wife. Unexpectedly, she and Everett had sex that night.

Regardless of how much she explained, Everett thought it was her plot.

Melissa frantically shook her head. "No, it wasn't me. I was drunk that day. I don't know what happened... Please trust me..."

Melissa felt a piercing pain in her stomach. She stretched out her hand and held Everett's trousers in desperation. "My stomach hurts. Can you please take me to the hospital?"

"God, are you still acting?"

Everett's face turned grim when he heard the word "hospital". "Do you think you can get away with pushing Arielle downstairs and causing her miscarriage by pretending this way?"

His words were like a bolt from the blue. Melissa's eyes widened in horror.

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