The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 864 | Released on: 22/01/2026

line stumbled as her heel caught the edge of the curb. Her vision tun

tone pillar of the club's entranc

easy

e expected never came. Instead, she was pulled against a firm chest that smell

clear the black spots dancin

er. The face was handsome, sharp-angled, with

o push herself upright. Her legs r

thing. He didn't let go. He shifted his grip to support her weigh

the club doo

ie aside mid-complaint, driven by an instinct he couldn't name-a s

ned the

s. And then he saw

ffton King. The media darling, the elusive heir of the Ki

as irrational-he had just signed the divorce papers-but seein

Cedric barked, sto

didn't release Evangeline. He just looked

alone," Cliffton said. "Something y

snarled, stepping into

r own, though she kept one hand on Cliffton's arm for balance. She looked at Ce

slapped him. "Evangeline, get

no home

ned dress, the other holding her phone. She took in the scene-the two powerf

wn the stairs. "That was fast, even for a gold digger. Di

es. He didn't say a word, but his glare was so intense, so filled with a predatory danger, tha

o the press, Evangeline, I will bury you in legal fees. I will enfor

cudgel. It was the only wa

rotect your murderer all you want, Cedric. The truth has

"Thank you for the help.

ffton asked, ignori

h dignity, despite the dizziness that still threatened to pul

led out his phone and typed the lic

d to get in his car and chase Evangeline, to demand answers, to dra

zing! And that man... did y

ghts of the Honda. He cursed under his b

Chloie. "Get in th

away, Cliffton King remained

Start with the foster system records after the car crash twenty-three years ag

r?" the voice on t

softly. "And she hates the Serranos.

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.”