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The Pitiful Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

Chapter 3 The password is the mistress's birthday

Word Count: 740    |    Released on: 09/02/2026

t a steady sixty-eight degrees to protect

ached the Tesla Model X. It was Brice's mobile command cent

cket-a signal repeater she had built from spare parts. It mimicked

with a soft whir. The door

been in this car. Recently. The scent was cloyingly strong, and for a reason she couldn't pinpoint, it ma

. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She wasn't looking for GPS history; Brice was sm

prompted fo

ice's birthd

wedding annive

d in a date she had seen on the employe

6

s Gra

ow to her stomach. He used his mistress's birthday to

e the voice-to-text logs.

I'll be t

pects nothing. She

le. Carly put in her

a liability. Once the trust fund vests next month, I'm going to have her committed. She has a history of tra

earbuds out. He

erase her. To lock her away in a padded room

ights sudden

e footwell of the passenger side, pulling a da

concrete. A flashlight beam sw

h," a voice muttered. T

opened the door, she would have to incapacitate him. She knew exactly where to strike to knock

r. Carly held her breath, her heart hamme

oved away. "Damn rats

hts cli

finished the download. She uploaded the file, along with the scan

and wiped the han

ened the laptop again. She

orrow, 4 PM. The Ha

Lola to his

a cold, hard resolve. She wasn't going to hide. She was going to

d. Brice walked in, sq

re you

he pointed to the window

pped onto the bed. He

he ceiling. She was sleeping next t

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The Pitiful  Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
The Pitiful Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
“I was the "mute kitten" of billionaire CEO Brice Salazar, a submissive wife who never said a word. For three years, I played the part of the perfect, damaged trophy he rescued from a war zone, living in a mansion that felt like a marble prison. Everything shattered when I caught him with his mistress, Lola Vane. While I sat silently in the shadows of a private club, I heard Brice laughing with his inner circle, calling me "damaged goods" and a "high-maintenance signature machine" who was only useful for signing legal documents. The betrayal went deeper than a secret affair. I discovered a voice memo where Brice planned to have me committed to a Swiss sanitarium the moment my trust fund vested. He wanted to lock me away in a padded room forever so he could keep my money and his freedom. He even bought two identical pink diamond bracelets-one for me to fix his public image, and one for the woman he was actually sleeping with. I realized my "hero" never loved me. He didn't save my life in Kandahar out of mercy; he acquired me like a failing company, exploiting my trauma to ensure my silence. He treated me like a tenant in my own home while planning to erase my very existence. But Brice forgot one thing: before I was his mute wife, I was "The Surgeon," an operative who knew exactly how to handle a predator. I tricked him into signing a separation agreement worth billions and wore a blood-red dress to a gala to hire his greatest enemy, Damon Yates, to eat him alive. Just as the trap was set, my world tilted. The morning sickness hit me with the force of a freight train. I wasn't just escaping a monster anymore; I was carrying his child, the ultimate leverage in a war that had just become life or death.”