Ex Husband's Regret: He Wants Me Back

Ex Husband's Regret: He Wants Me Back

Author Riri

5.0
Comment(s)
1.8K
View
23
Chapters

    Billionaire heiress Rachel Beaumont's life was shattered when her husband Andrew and best friend Victoria betrayed her, leading to a painful divorce and the loss of her unborn child. Seeking revenge, Rachel's father assigns her to infiltrate Andrew's company, partnering her with skilled operative Darius Reid, Andrew's uncle.   As Rachel and Darius work together, forbidden feelings ignite, complicating their mission, and things get worse as her ex-billionaire husband wants her back.     Will she go back running into the arms of her ex-husband, or will she embrace the comfort that came with being with Darius Reid?

Chapter 1 1. Shattered Vows.

Rachel's POV

I sat at our favorite restaurant, fidgeting with my napkin. Today was special-our third anniversary. I couldn't wait to see Andrew walk through that door.

Although I was dying with anxiety deep down, I still managed to put on a smile, ignoring the piety looks I was getting from the waiters.

He was going to show up, hopefully.

I loved him more with each passing day, but lately, things have changed. His promotion at work had taken over his life. He was always busy, always tired. We barely had time for each other.

He gets upset at the slightest things, so I choose most times not to get into an argument with him letting things go even though it was his fault.

My heart ached, remembering the way it used to be. We'd laugh together, go on spontaneous dates, and cuddle on the couch.

The way he'd tell me how much he loves and adores me. How much I meant to him.

Now, I was lucky if I got a quick kiss goodbye.

Which I haven't gotten for a month or now.

He doesn't even come home sometimes.

I tried to understand. I did. His job was important, and he was providing for us. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was losing him, and it was breaking my heart.

I glanced at my watch for the tenth time. No signs of Andrew.

I've been here for almost two hours waiting.

I placed a hand on my barely noticeable bump, and a smile crept on my cheek.

I am two weeks pregnant; I found out yesterday after undergoing a test, so I decided to save the news for today.

Andrew has always wanted a child, and being able to give him one now made my heart swell.

I wonder how he'd take the news.

I took a deep breath and let my eyes wander around the restaurant. Couples held hands, smiling at each other. Families laughed and chatted. I felt a pang of loneliness.

Where was Andrew?

I pulled out my phone and sent him a text: "Hey, running late?"

No response.

I sighed, trying to push away the doubts creeping into my mind. Tonight was supposed to be special. I had planned everything-his favorite food, wine, and most importantly, the pregnancy.

I looked up, hoping to see Andrew walking toward me. But the door swung open, and strangers walked in instead.

My heart sank.

Where was my husband?

I called his line, but it kept sending me to voice mail. I called till eventually the phone was switched off.

"Uhm...Sorry, Mrs. Andreson, we're closing." One of the waiters announced, snapping me out of my train of thought.

Tears began to accumulate at the brim of my eyes as reality dawned on me.

Andrew wasn't going to come.

I bit on my bottom lip getting up. "I'm sorry, I was just leaving," I announced, assembling my stuff before rushing out.

Tears began to slip as I ran out hailing a taxi to get home.

How would Andrew do this to me? To us?

It was our anniversary for crying out loud; what was the matter with him?

Was his work more important than mine? Than us?

I got home shortly.

I walked through the front door, exhaustion and disappointment weighing me down. The evening that was supposed to be special had turned into another letdown.

As I entered the living room, I noticed something off. There were clothes scattered everywhere-lace, silk, and perfume. Feminine clothes that weren't mine.

What was going on?

My heart sank.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Something was wrong.

Definitely wrong!

I just hope it wasn't what I was thinking.

God no!

It can't be.

Andrew will never do that to me or us.

I heard muffled sounds coming from upstairs. My heart rate escalated as I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

I approached our matrimonial room, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open.

And my world shattered.

Andrew, my husband, lay in bed with another woman. Not just any woman-my best friend, Victoria.

"Fuck, baby! You're taking me so good," Andrew moans, thrusting hard into Victoria as he spreads her legs wide open.

"Ungh...Right there, Andrew, faster... Fuck me hard," Victoria moans, pulling him for a kiss.

Andrew's eyes were closed, a look of pleasure on his face kissing her with so much adoration, one which he hadn't been giving me.

I can't even remember the last time we had sex with Andrew; he always came home late and left early, and most times he didn't even sleep at home.

Could Victoria be the reason?

Was Victoria the person standing in between our marriage?

A new set of tears began to stream down as I clutched on my bump.

How could Andrew do this to us?

We were more than this; how could he be so cruel?

Victoria's eyes met mine, a sly smile spreading across her face.

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. My breath caught in my throat.

No, no, no. This can't be happening.

I stood frozen, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

Andrew's eyes snapped open, locking onto mine. For a moment, we just stared at each other.

"Rachel..." he stammered, guilt written all over his face for a second before it replaced with an emotion I couldn't mistake for satisfaction.

Almost like he wanted me to withhold him fucking my best friend on our matrimonial bed.

My feet got heavy, barely able to carry me as I took steps back, but Andrew didn't care to pull out of Victoria and run to me.

He was focused on pleasing Victoria and getting his release.

Right there, I knew I had lost him forever.

All those years have gone down the drain like they never happened.

I turned and ran.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Viviene
4.9

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

Temple Madison
5.0

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Huo Wuer
5.0

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book