The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress

The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting. "Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes." Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind. I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba. How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow? When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE. "Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me."

Billionaires Revenge Ex-wife

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"How about you divorce her on the grounds of her infertility?"

Standing outside the door, Rebecca Dixon felt cold all over. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she would ever hear her mother-in-law utter such words. She thought his mother liked her.

She was infertile?

She and Yosef Swain got married for commercial benefits. A month before their wedding, Yosef met a car accident and sustained a leg injury so serious that it almost required an amputation. Everyone warned Rebecca not to marry him, but she thought that she had to keep her promise and married him regardless of all objections.

They had been married for more than a year, and Yosef had been receiving physical therapy. The two of them had never had sex, but Yosef was now going to divorce her on the grounds of her infertility.

"Dixon Group is in big trouble. They have a deficit of more than one billion dollars. Timothy Dixon died in an accident when he went to deal with the matter. I'm afraid Rebecca will have to inherit all the company's problems. If you don't divorce her quickly, it will definitely affect our family. The reason why we let you marry Rebecca is because we wanted the Dixon family and the Swain family to support each other and go further, not us to be dragged down by them. What do you think, Yosef?"

Rebecca clenched her teeth and trembled all over. Yosef would refuse, wouldn't he? She had done her best to take care of him and help him with his recovery. She had been a good wife to him.

"There's no hurry."

While Rebecca was thinking, she heard Yosef refuse. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued, "Although the Dixon family is in trouble, Timothy still left a lot of things to Rebecca. I'll try my best to persuade her to give everything to me. I'll divorce her after I get them."

"Yosef! How cruel you and your mother are!" she said under her breath.

Rebecca's brain went blank, and she took a step back in a daze, forgetting that there were steps behind her. She missed a step and fell to the floor.

"Who's there?"

Rebecca stood up in a hurry and ran away.

"It's Rebecca. She overheard our conversation. We can't let her run away."

The night was dark, and the rain was getting heavier and heavier.

There was usually heavy traffic on the streets, but on this rainy night, the streets were empty. There was no vehicle in sight at all.

The rain obscured Rebecca's vision, but she kept running, even as her legs and lungs began to burn.

Suddenly, lights flashed in front of her, making her stop dead in her tracks. She raised her hand to block the blinding lights.

Then, the lights started accelerating toward Rebecca. It was only then that she realized that they were a car's headlights.

Rebecca had no time to react. With a bang, the car hit her and sent her flying backwards. She felt like she had just been smashed to pieces, and the pain was so overwhelming that she didn't have enough energy left to scream.

The car stopped, and someone got out of it. That person walked up to her to check on her.

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