STIGMA

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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Jean Wen moaned as the sunlight danced across her face. She knew she needed to get out of bed, but her body disagreed. She was exhausted despite how much she had slept.

As Jean took in her surroundings, she heard a man speaking. When she listened attentively, she realized that he was talking on the phone. From the conversation, it seemed he was about to leave. She rubbed her eyes as she tried to convince herself to get out of bed. Jean groaned as she stood and turned to the bedroom door.

"Zed Qi…" Jean Wen whispered when she saw the man. Wearing only the bedsheet, she stood by the door. Jean tapped her bare foot on the ground and smiled at the man bashfully as she waited for him to finish speaking.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later at the company." The man ended his conversation abruptly. A beep sounded as the call disconnected. Then he turned to look at the woman by the door.

Zed Qi's eyes slowly roamed over Jean's body. Her pale skin was in subtle contrast to the color of the bedsheet. He particularly liked how her ruffled hair added to her allure. Zed Qi thought Jean looked even more beautiful and charming in the morning light.

"I'm waiting." The man said in a nonchalant tone. He seemed a little impatient.

Jean chuckled, "The land in the suburb, could you…"

"No way!" The man reacted immediately. He didn't even let her finish her request.

Jean was a little surprised at his reaction. Slowly, she walked toward him and said, "I don't think you can be sure that the land has potential. Plus, you are already wealthy enough. Why are you so adamant on keeping it?"

The man frowned. His deep-set eyes reflected a terrifying coldness. He spoke in a low husky voice, "Mrs. Qi, please be careful about what you say. The land is mine, besides... do you always ask for a favor this way?"

Jean clenched her fists. Although his arrogant and homiletic tone displeased her, she smiled seductively. She needed him to agree to her request!

"You just got it yesterday..." Jean muttered softly.

The man didn't appear to have heard her remark. He finished settling his shirt before grabbing his coat. Then he turned to leave.

Determined to have her way, Jean doubled over to him and held his arm. She looked at her husband with her most charming expression as she pleaded, "Please, please, do me this favor. I know you are a very generous man. Please promise me that you will leave the land to the Wen family. Promise me, okay? Promise me..."

Zed shook off Jean's hands. Annoyed with her perpetuance, he gave her a stern and extremely cold look, "No!"

"You!" Jean seethed. She couldn't understand why he was being so stubborn. She couldn't hide her frustration as she had tried multiple approaches to convince him, and each time Zed refused her.

Without another word, Zed walked out of the room.

Since Jean was inappropriately dressed, she didn't follow him. Instead, she took a few deep breaths and returned to the bedroom.

Once in the closet, she selected her clothes. As she stood in front of the mirror, Jean couldn't help cursing, "You are a jerk, Zed. I tried so hard. I even slept with you last night! I can't believe you won't even consider my request. Let's see how you feel if the situation were reversed!"

As Jean lifted her leg to slide on her pants, she felt a sudden pain between her thighs. Memories of the previous night flooded her and Jean cursed Zen some more.

Suddenly, Jean saw a slender hand holding a dress appear in front of her.

Jean turned back with a frightened look. She had been loudly cursing her husband and now, he was standing right behind her. He looked at her curiously.

"Can you repeat what you just said?" Zed's face darkened and a sardonic grin appeared.

'I saw him leave! Didn't I? Why did he return so soon?

What should I do?' Jean wondered. What defense could she possibly have for all the things she just said? Jean found herself in an impossible situation.

She usually behaved decently and elegantly in front of Zed to please him. 'I suppose he heard everything I said.

Will he be more reluctant to help me with the land? Oh, it's all over.'

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