The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 913 | Released on: 22/01/2026

e of champagne. The crystal felt cool and fragile in her hand. She h

nst the wooden floor. The sound was like a gunshot in the sudd

warned, his voi

er fake lashes fluttering. "Who let you in

ompletely. She kept her

the jazz music. People at nearby tables turned, sensing the spectacle. Pho

e word husband. A collective gasp rippled through the onlook

o Chloie, "to his mistress. For keeping him ent

her wrist, she e

e golden liquid soaked into her white designer

up from the booth. "My

whispers turned i

igging into her flesh. "What the hell are you doing?" he hiss

n, her face inches from his. She smell

ted, Cedric," she whispered. "You wan

all night, but this... this was interesting. He studied the woman in the red dress. Her profile, the arch of her nose, the fire in her e

ically at her dress with a napkin, tears of rage streaming

llow, brittle sound. "A stalker

s grip. With her other hand, she pul

e knocked over a small votive candle, w

edric," she

ld text stared back at him

. He was waiting for her to cry, to beg, to ask for another chance. That was the Evangeli

e," Cedric said, his voice losing some

ards him. "Sign it. Or I start talking to the reporters o

dragged her out, the videos would be captioned 'Billionaire Assa

pped. And

heavy. He looked at her one last tim

et this," he

he last three ye

ith aggressive, sharp strokes, the pen tip

e papers back the second the pen lifted

she said. Her voice dripped with

ustained her was beginning to fade, leaving her l

ie yelled after her. "I'll sue yo

ough the parted crowd, head high, the red s

dyguard standing in the shadows behind h

on said quietly. "Ma

ough the double doors. He ignored Chloie's whining. He felt a sudden, ga

ne had pooled. It was a stain. And he had a s

d out into the night air. The cool wind hit her flus

Chapter End

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The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity

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“It was our third wedding anniversary, and I was waiting in our cold Manhattan penthouse with a gift Cedric would never open. He hadn't even looked at me that morning, adjusting his cuffs and walking out as if I were just another piece of furniture in his museum-like home. The silence was shattered by a call from St. Jude's Hospital. My grandmother, the only person who had ever seen me as a human being rather than a charity case, had gone into cardiac arrest. By the time I reached her room, she was gone, her skin already waxen and grey. As I collapsed by her bed, I smelled it-a cloying, heavy gardenia perfume. It was the signature scent of Chloie Serrano, the socialite who had made my life a living hell while clinging to my husband's arm. When Cedric finally arrived, he didn't comfort me; he checked his watch and asked for the time of death. At the funeral, he shielded Chloie from the rain with his umbrella while I stood soaked in the mud, and when I accused her of being in that hospital room, he crushed my wrist and told me I was an embarrassment to the Malone name. The hospital cameras had been conveniently wiped by a power surge, and the police told me there was no crime. I was left alone in the dirt, discarded and gaslit by the man I had loved for three years, while he comforted the woman who had likely killed my only relative. I couldn't understand how a man could be so cold. How could he protect a murderer just to save his reputation? Why did his wealth buy a version of the truth that left me with nothing but a broken heart and a shallow grave? I stopped crying and put on a blood-red silk dress designed to burn worlds down. I walked into his private club, crashed his high-stakes meeting, and slammed the signed divorce papers onto the table in front of the city's elite. "Happy Anniversary, Cedric," I said, as I dumped a glass of champagne over his mistress's head. I wasn't his invisible wife anymore. I was a woman with nothing left to lose, a secret heir to a rival empire, and I was going to take everything he owned.”