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The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 807    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

of the key. Evangeline pushed it open, and the smell hit her instan

exactly as Nana had left it. A half-finished knitting project s

sh over her, but she pushed it down. She

energy. She checked the trash can in the kitc

the landline phone sat. The answering machine

Blink

pressed t

age," the robotic voice anno

e that made Evangeli

to discuss Evangeline's future. It would be a shame i

sweet, dripping wi

and recorded the message, making s

ing there. One was Nana's favorite mug, reading 'World's Best Grand

n the rim of the guest

i

de of lipstick Chloi

loc bag, and carefully maneuvered the cup in

," she w

lutter; it was a painful twist that made her double over, clut

Stress and not eating properly for day

buzzed in

or the settlement goes to ze

ric's lawyer. Or

ped back: See

She froze, her heart hammering agai

oor and looked thr

ll cap.

fton

opened the door a crac

u find me?"

stic inhaler. "You dropped this at

ety medication was gone. She must hav

said, reaching

ton asked. "I think we

ce-there was no malice there. Only curiosit

big for the room, his presence filling the space. He scanne

iffton asked, pointi

ar crash when I was a baby.

g?" Evangeline asked, cro

s cap, running a hand through his hair

m an orphan from Brookl

, knowing smile. "Blood tells, Ms. W

a sleek business card. It was heavy, black

," Cliffton said, handing it

hy

y. But his eyes were scanning the hairbrush sit

vangeline said, f

e table, his hand brushed against the hairbrush. In a movement too

the door b

nd and the King card in the other. She felt confused, but for the f

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The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity
The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity
“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.”