The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

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.

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Royal City Hotel.

The most luxurious high-end private club in A city.

Alice Oliver was very dizzy after drinking. She stood at the end off the corridor on the 22nd floor and looked at the room number in front of her. She laughed.

2218.

Exactly.

This was the exact room number she bore in mind.

Pushing open the unlocked door, she stumbled into the room.

There was no light in the room, and it was dark. Alice scanned the room, and her eyes finally fell in the direction near the window, where there was a flickering light.

It was the man who was smoking.

Alice managed to stabilize her shaking body and she grinned, "I... I'm here."

She got a burp of wine the moment she spoke, and it came from her throat out of her control.

She quickly covered her mouth, pinched her little finger and stroked, "I only... had a little wine, hah."

Alice couldn't see the man's face clearly, but she obviously felt that his cold and gloomy air was coming right to her. She took a step back unconsciously, and suddenly sobered up a little.

But after that, the effects of drink came back to her. She didn't keep her balance and fell hard against the wall. Her back was hurt, so she couldn't help making a "hiss" sound.

The man stared at the little girl who had intruded into the room. She stood in the yellow light at the door. The black swallow-tail dress was swaying behind her, showing her beautiful legs, absolutely charming. The heavy make-up on her face was like the gorgeous coat wrapping a snow-white rose, giving people a desire to peel it off and explore the unexpected.

The man suppressed his instinctive curiosity and asked calmly.

"How did you get in?" The 22nd floor of the hotel was not a place for a drunken mad woman to walk around.

The man's voice was very magnetic, and seemed to be able to absorb the souls of people. Alice had to admit that he had a nice voice.

"The waiter has a good taste. When he saw this necklace, he thought that I was a VIP guest who could come in and out of the 22nd floor." Alice pointed to the necklace on her neck. The diamond ring on the necklace was of great value.

Just then, the man's cell phone rang.

It was a short message.

The man picked up his phone at once, and the light of the screen shone on his face. He lowered his head, and Alice could only see his manly outline strongly defined under the bright light.

Although she couldn't see clearly, she still could tell that this man had a gorgeous face.

She didn't expect that she would be dealing with a handsome young man.

A man who had the dirty idea to deal with bodies was definitely a scum of bad character and behavior.

Alice jumped to a conclusion in her heart.

The man was staring at the screen of his cell phone, and the message on it read --Carlos, I am sorry.

Sender, Jane Smith.

The man's hand shook slightly. The next moment, he blacklisted the person who sent the text message decisively.

When Alice saw the man hadn't said anything after a long while, she supported her drowsy head and asked in a very low voice, "We... Can we start now?"

The man sneered, "I'm not interested in a woman with an overpowering smell of alcohol."

Alice became nervous. She was just drinking to boost her courage. It took her forever to organize her words and then she said, "Please wait a minute. I'll wash it off."

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