Too Late, Billionaire: Watch Me Leave

Chapter 3

Word Count: 766 | Released on: 20/04/2026

ebb Capital building on Wall Street. Ciara steppe

nglasses a mask of indifference, and p

iet, expensive ambition. She walked to the recept

ly polite and impenetrable smile, looked her u

e an ID that would prove she was, in fact, Mrs

oss, Jordon's ex

ly controlled professionalism. He dismissed the receptionist with

ir. He was guarding something. "Take me to Jordon,

tive elevator. The ride up was silent,

of a hundred keyboards clicking in unison fil

rd the corner office, her heels sinking int

ng at a screen filled with cascading red numbers. Cros

e massive, double mahogany doors of Jordon's offic

om inside stopped her. It was Preston, Jor

eston said, his voice laced with amusement. "Doesn't your l

cool wood of the doorframe, her knuckl

hen Jordon's voice, cold

nows her place. I don't have to explai

d backward, her elbow lightly brushing against a large, framed abstract painting on the wall. The frame made

o escape the suffocating reality of his words, and ran stra

ly styled dress and arrogant expression were a Webb family signa

veryone to hear. "Look what crawled out of the woodwork.

Their eyes, filled with the casual c

a specimen under a microscope. Her sunglasse

thing you're wearing, from that suit to the shoes on your feet,

s, slithering into her ears, poisoning her. Sh

against the thin paper of the lab report hidden inside. A sur

spine, and met Taryn's gaze. "Get out of

r expression twisted into a mask of rage. She raised the

. A battle of wills, of class, of dignity, w

Chapter End

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Too Late, Billionaire: Watch Me Leave

Katie Oettgen Billionaires

“For three years, Ciara played the perfect, invisible protocol wife to billionaire Jordon Webb. But on the day she finally held a positive pregnancy test, he abandoned her mid-sentence to rush to the side of his ex-lover, Jasmine. Seeking answers, Ciara went to his Wall Street office, only to be publicly humiliated by his family. His cousin intentionally poured scalding espresso over her hand, leaving her skin blistered and raw. "She's a protocol wife. She knows her place. She's replaceable." Hearing Jordon's cold words to his friends shattered her. When he finally appeared, instead of defending his injured wife, he furiously scolded her for causing a scene and ruining his company's image. That night, while Jordon stayed at the hospital holding a perfectly fine Jasmine in his arms, Ciara was left completely alone in their dark, empty penthouse. A sudden, agonizing cramp ripped through her abdomen. She suffered a devastating miscarriage, bleeding out on the cold marble floor with no one to answer her cries. A decade of loving him had left her with a dead baby, a ruined hand, and absolute despair. Why did she have to lose her child while he fiercely protected the woman who mocked her existence? The next morning, her sorrow burned away into cold, hardened ash. Ciara signed the divorce papers, waiving all alimony, and left them behind. Jordon had no idea that his docile, charity-case wife was actually LUNA, the world-famous anonymous couture designer. She packed her bags, walked out of the penthouse, and prepared to take her life back.”