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The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 703    |    Released on: 13/01/2026

za Mall was a nightmare

as a sauna. Her left hand cramp

o choice; Mrs. Gorsky was drunk, and she

told him. "Read your book. Do

r: Introduction to Quantum Mechanics. He had stolen it from a university books

he curb, parking directly in

ie step

d the only person Isaiah trusted. He tossed his keys to t

unning," J

s and turned toward the e

w the

ing a physics textbook. It was the pro

is sunglasses. H

dow. He looked up,

king my ligh

The attitude. It was like look

crouching down. "

the giant bear h

was taking a break, lifting the hea

nut hair spilled out, matted with sw

ad seen it at a thousand d

re

nstinct she had developed in prison. She sl

d had se

He snapped a photo of Hok

ic

r sound. He glared at

s typing furiously. He s

itting down? I think I found a mini-you. An

WER - B

uzzed against th

in the middle of fir

again. A

saiah flip

lit up with

und of the VP begging for

ike looking into a mirror from thi

The chair cra

ed," he said. Hi

out, dia

Isaiah

Plaza. They're leavin

iah roared, sprinting towar

for a bear,"

's hand. She didn't wait to change.

turnstiles, her bear suit bulky and

unning?" Hoke panted

gasped. "The ba

o a train just as

e. He watched the train pull away, the bear

curb outside the subway station five min

he

t of breath. "Subway.

on his phone again. His t

cameras. Hire every PI in the state. If that b

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The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife
The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife
“My husband stood by the window of his Manhattan office, his silhouette cutting through the storm like a blade. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the divorce papers onto the desk, his voice a cold baritone. "Sign it," Isaiah commanded, "or your brother's dialysis treatment ends today." He believed the lie that I had pushed his pregnant mistress down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage. To save my dying brother, I signed the confession and accepted the role of a murderer, trading my freedom for a life of disgrace. At the funeral, Isaiah forced me to crawl on my knees through the freezing mud to the grave while a mob of mourners spat on me and cursed my name. When I went to prison, his influence followed me into the showers, where inmates told me the King wanted me to "remember my crime" before they used rusty shears to hack off my finger. Five years later, I was a ghost living in a damp basement with the son Isaiah never knew I had, hiding my mangled hand under a leather glove. When he eventually tracked us down, he didn't show mercy; he tore my son from my arms, calling me an unfit monster and swearing I would rot in a cage. I couldn't understand how the man I once loved could look at my broken body and see only a criminal, never realizing that every scar I carried was a gift from his own hatred. As he walked away with my child, I swallowed a bottle of pills to end the nightmare, leaving Isaiah to rip the glove from my hand and discover the mangled truth just as my eyes finally closed.”