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Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine

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Chapter 1 

Word Count: 903    |    Released on: 20/08/2026

will be hand-carved by a

ation of an elaborate ice sculpture. His voice was slick w

were blueprints for a life she was supposed to want: samples of "ocean heart" theme

chair seemed to mock her. It was

ing a smile that felt brittle on h

r. Rhodes be joining us today? There are a few seating arrang

cup. The heat did nothing to warm them. "He has an i

s smooth,

eating," she added, he

sed Mr. Price's face before it was masked by a professi

t marked "Top Priority" to the center of the table. The m

kefeller. The weight of centuries of old money p

e Astors will be at table three, with

y sharp, her arrangements flawless. M

finalized. Augustine's phone had

, a

y. You

A tiny, sharp pain pierced thr

a reply: Oka

e send button. The senten

elete

K

hit

shock to her skin. She dismissed the driver, needin

d jewels and gowns, each one a silent test

th a temporary comfort. Her phone buzz

ey? Don't wea

g emoji. I'm fine. Ever

finance section. It was one of the few way

across the top of her screen

Wedding Imminent, Spotted wi

. It had to be a

pped t

lungs. Her bloo

inal, wearing the dark grey overcoat she had picked out for him

imagined press. His hand rested on the small of h

wore sunglasses but her smile was radiant. Sh

instantly.

e Rhodes family had always wanted for him. T

source reveals Ms. Cherry's return may

of dizziness washed over her. The phone slipped

d shrunk to that single, damning photograph a

d phone, and stumbled out of the café, desperate

Augustine

it didn't

s dec

r, a text fro

't

y's vibrant life a blur of noise and light. She wa

marriage is a business arrangement," he had told her, his blue

ive, thinking she

't meant to be melted. His sprin

he caller ID read: Mrs.

embled as s

ill you be returning for dinner? Mr. Rhodes.

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Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine
Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine
“I spent a whole year trying to melt my billionaire husband's icy heart, carefully planning our grand wedding reception. Then a trending news alert popped up: Augustine was spotted at the airport, intimately holding his childhood sweetheart, Bianca. When I frantically called him, he declined it and sent a cold text. "Don't call." At the family estate, he didn't even acknowledge my existence. Instead, he announced that our wedding reception was canceled. "Bianca and I discussed it," he stated flatly, as if she were the real wife. His aristocratic family just sneered at me. His aunt called me a classless gold digger, and his grandmother demanded I endure the humiliation to protect their public image. They even moved Bianca into our penthouse, redecorating the suite for her while I was barred from his office. For a year, I gave up my career and dreams, desperately molding myself into the perfect Mrs. Rhodes. I thought my devotion would eventually earn his respect, but to them, I was just a pathetic, temporary replacement keeping the seat warm. When I saw he had completely blocked me on social media, erasing me with a single click, my heart finally died. I didn't cry or beg for his affection anymore. I packed my bags, walked out of that suffocating gilded cage, and sent him a simple text. "Let's get a divorce." I am done playing the tragic clown. This time, I'm taking my life back.”