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Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire

Chapter 3 She is free

Word Count: 735    |    Released on: Today at 14:17

e living room wearing

ng there, soaking wet, bleeding,

in deep annoyance. He reached

neered, his eyes dropping to her torn jacket. "Ripping you

man she had love

warmth in her ch

to the marble coffee table,"Joaquin, let's get a divorce. I've been giving you chances all along, but

rst page. His arrogant smirk vanished

ing over her. "You are an orphan from the foster system. You h

ell Ember's cheap perfume on your shirts for o

bed her jaw, his fingers digging into her skin.

way with enough force to make a loud crack

sound. He pulled out his phon

their living room, printing a supplement

justing his glasses. "Furthermore, you will sign a strict Non-Disclosure A

er sofa. He crossed his arms, waiting

. She flipped straight to the back, picked

b against the thick paper wa

back at the lawyer. She grabbed

g. "You will be washing dishes in

er her shoulder. "I wish you and that

heavy oak door

sh of a million-dollar Ming va

e rain was still falling hard. The wind off

up to the curb. The r

de wearing a diamond necklace and a fur coat

with venom. "A trashy little orphan, finally kick

d a cheap, broken umbrella out the window

She stared directly into Julianne'

ilence infu

ybach sped off, splashing dir

. She gripped the plastic handle of

alk toward the

es turned the corner. They moved in perfect synchronization

ht circle around her. The

e, opened. A man stepped out. He wore a bespoke

straight t

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Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
“When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married. His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope. But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search. "Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars."”