The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire

Chapter 7

Word Count: 637 | Released on: Today at 19:19

pped out onto the bustling Manhattan paveme

visible, suffocating chains of the Huffman family

blocks until she

under the glass, and asked to close out the

r, she slid a cashier's check across the counter. "Ms.

scraped together over five years, saving pennies from her gro

grand wouldn't even cover the c

was her entire life. It was t

it into the deepest zipper pocket of her w

sion finally draining from her muscles,

ent meal since she was disc

wandering aimlessly until she turned onto a

t and rosemary drifted out of a st

sign hung over the door: The

ugh the glass windows, she could see warm

open. A brass bell chime

played from the speakers. The atmosphere inst

ard and a linen apron walked up

d her a handwritten menu. His smi

n the far corner, near the window. She shoved

he signature slow-roasted short ri

ble. With typical New York bluntness, he aske

outh lifted. Her eyes wer

ate of meat was set in front of

her mouth. The meat melted instantly. The

. It was her first meal in five years where she didn't hav

latted wooden doors leading

a dark navy, perfectly tailored suit. He was casually r

friendly tone shifted into deep respec

carried a natural weight. "Just checkin

topped halfway to her mouth. Her hea

Chapter End

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The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire

Snooty Modern

“As Aurora lay dying of organ failure in the freezing ICU, she used her last ounce of strength to call her husband on their son's fifth birthday. Instead of his voice, she heard the pop of champagne and the sweet laugh of his mistress, Jessica. Conrad snatched the phone, impatiently ordering Aurora not to "ruin the mood" with her irrelevant calls. But what truly pushed her into cardiac arrest was her five-year-old son's excited voice ringing through the speakerphone. "I wish for Auntie Jessica to be my new mommy!" "As long as you like it, Daddy will give you anything," Conrad promised without a second of hesitation. Aurora gagged on her own blood and flatlined, the heart monitor erupting into a piercing red alarm. She had swallowed her pride and wasted five years playing the perfect, submissive housewife, only to be thrown away like garbage by the two people she loved most. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion ended with her dying completely alone on a sterile mattress. But she didn't die. Snatched from the jaws of death by a mysterious billionaire from her past, she woke up in a luxury suite, fully healed. Looking at her pale, cold reflection in the window, the pathetic old Aurora died. She packed her battered suitcase, signed a brutal postnuptial agreement waiving every single cent of her husband's wealth, and dropped the divorce papers on the table. This time, she was leaving for good.”