Ablaze

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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"Momma, where are you?" Paige's weak voice crackled through the phone's speakers, trembling with fear.

Joana gripped the steering wheel tighter, her heart pounding. "I'm on my way, baby. Just take deep breaths," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm, though her mind was filled with worry.

She drove as fast as she could without drawing the attention of the police. Every second felt like an eternity, and just when she thought she was making good time, she came across a red light. It felt like a cruel joke, as if the universe was conspiring against her.

The traffic light seemed to mock her, taking a really long time to turn green. Joana drummed her fingers on the steering wheel anxiously, her eyes darting between the traffic light and the road ahead. Finally, when the light turned green, she stepped on the gas pedal.

Joana's hands shook as she parked the car and sprinted into the house. "Paige, I'm hom..." Her voice caught in her throat when she saw a pair of panties on the sofa.

She approached slowly, her heart sinking with each step. The panties were pink, a color Joana never wore, and it was far too large to belong to Paige.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs behind her, and Joana turned to see a naked woman bolting down the steps. Joana's eyes widened in shock as she recognized the woman, Martha, her sister.

James, her husband, appeared on the stairs, chasing after Martha. The color drained from his face when he saw Joana standing there, frozen in disbelief.

"Jo-joana, it's n-not what it looks like," James stuttered, but Joana barely heard him. The cliche excuse only fueled her anger, but she couldn't deal with it now.

"PAIGE!" Joana shouted, pushing past the two of them as she raced upstairs. Her daughter needed her, and that was all that mattered.

She burst into Paige's room, only to find it empty. Panic was all she felt as she screamed, "PAIGE! WHERE ARE YOU?"

A weak grunt from the far side of the room caught her attention. She rushed over and found Paige wedged between the bed and the wall, her tiny body limp and unmoving.

"M...Mom..." Paige mumbled weakly before her eyes fluttered shut, succumbing to the pain.

The call had come out of nowhere, leaving Joana wondering where James was and why he couldn't help their daughter. She had assumed he had gone out to get an inhaler, but after Paige's second frantic call, Joana grew suspicious.

James was always attentive to Paige's needs, never leaving her without checking that she had her inhaler. But now, as Joana watched her daughter being wheeled into the hospital, she wished she had driven faster, ignored that damn red light, and not wasted precious moments confronting the traitors in her living room.

"You can't come in," a nurse said, blocking Joana from entering the ICU. Helpless, she sank into a chair in the lobby, her mind racing with worry.

"Joana?" A familiar voice called out. It was Regina, her friend and a doctor at the hospital. "What are you doing here?"

Joana tried to speak, but her voice was lost in a torrent of tears. "Is it Paige?" Regina asked softly. Joana nodded, and Regina pulled her into a comforting hug.

"She's going to be fine," Regina assured her. "The doctors are doing their best."

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