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The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress

Zi Ya

The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting. "Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes." Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind. I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba. How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow? When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE. "Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me."

Billionaires Revenge Ex-wife

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"When will you give me a grandson Nathan?" Nathan listened as his mother brought that subject up once again.

What could he do to satisfy the woman?

His mother was a tall woman in her early fifties. One with the mouth of a teenager. She could never just stop babbling. Nathan could hardly believe he was spawned by the woman. Her hair was dirty blonde with faint streaks of the grey but she did a good job hiding them using hair treatments. Her skin was porcelain white almost making her as white as a corpse and it had fine lines to adorn her transition into old age. She was not welcoming it well, however.

She masked her face in Mary Kay in hopes to defy nature and it was a failing battle.

He, on the other hand, had picked most of his features from his late father. He had the same hair color as his mother but he earned his chiseled features from his no-nonsense father. His built-up body was a work of his, the only thing he took seriously in his teenage years. Things have changed but going to the gym once a week had become a part of him. His light caramel skin, a mixture of his mother's ghost-white skin and his father's ebony skin color.

Nathan's mum reached out to pick a cracker from a tray that was placed on the enamel-coated stool.

Stuffing her mouth with the plain but not bitter snack, She continued to rant.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Nathan was not. His mother's visit was interrupting his perfectly planned day. His face was plastered on his phone where he had written his schedules for the day and how his mother had swallowed up two hours and ruining his life.

What he had to do for family!

"I am mother, " Nathan replied absentmindedly as he watched his mother stuff another of his maid's cracker into her mouth.

"You shouldn't eat too much of that, " Nathan commented when he watched his mother pick another one.

His mother flayed her hands at him sending some of the grains on his perfectly ironed shirt and making it dirty.

"Good gracious!" He yelled when this happened.

"Mom! I had a really important meeting!" Nathan yelled louder gaining the maid, Betty who peeked from the kitchen to see what drama she was missing.

"Don't you yell at me!" Her voice turned hoarse and Nathan could tell she was about to be more dramatic.

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