Guminhos

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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Running through the empty halls， I race against the clock to reach my classroom on time. Stupid alarm clock...it was the sixth clock this month I“d unknowingly smashed to bits this month alone. Mum keeps on saying I pushed it off of the nightstand but I don“t see how it melted into a liquid this morning.

Turning the dial on my locker， quickly getting frustrated when the door won“t open， I stand back and run my shoulder into the rusty door. The door creaks open， rubbing my shoulder， I put in my jacket， my school bag and take out my things.

Slamming the door shut， I run to the second level for my first lesson， Chemistry with Mr Banks. I round the corner rushing to the last classroom down the hall. Not looking where I“m going， I slam head first into a wall and I fly back a few meters， groaning， I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Hey!" A deep enchanting male voice murmurs from above me."You alright?"

Warm hazelnut brown eyes that are shining in excitement stare down at me， bulging muscles straining against his thin black T-shirt， a long-fingered hand stretched out towards me.

Taking it， I feel a jolt of electricity go down my spine spreading a warmness through me as it travels leaving little tingles in its wake.

"Oh!" I gasp as he pulls me to my feet， my small， 5 foot 4 frame against his probably 6 foot 2 body. My breasts pressed against his muscular chest， my cheeks heat up at this realisation. "Sorry."

"It“s alright，" he mutters， the excitement in his eyes fading replaced by a coldness.

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