Dabanetcher

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

Download the Book on the App

RAINA

My body ached in ways I couldn't describe, and in places I couldn't name. My skin was sticky with perspiration, and my muscles were trembling from hours in labor.

The feeling of motherhood, for however briefly I'd just come into it-was so surreal that I could hardly believe it. Despite having nine long months to prepare my mind, nothing could have truly prepared me for the actual feeling.

'I'm a mother now,' I thought, though my heart still hurt as I lay in the hospital bed, gazing at what could possibly be my greatest fulfillment as a woman.

My newborn twins.

My heart filled with joy and pride as I watched them - my beautiful boy and girl swaddled beside me - but the feeling was almost completely eclipsed by a gnawing sense of unease-one I had become all too acquainted with over the years.

Despite the air conditioner, the sterile room still felt... stifling.

But the coldest presence loomed over me with his broad shoulders and cruelly handsome, emotionless face.

My husband.

He just stood there, regarding me as if I were something to be discarded. Maybe I was. I mean, I had just delivered our babies, our future, and he couldn't even offer a smile. No words of comfort.

No, "I'm proud of you."

How I yearned to hear even just that.

I held my breath, waiting for something- anything - to break the silence, but what came next was the last thing I expected.

When he moved, it wasn't to cradle our children or to brush a tender hand against my hair. Instead, he wordlessly tossed a stack of papers onto my lap.

"Sign them." He ordered, cold and detached.

His words took a moment to register.

I blinked- my eyes still hazy from the exhaustion of pushing two little humans out of me. Sign what? I looked down at the papers, then back at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, what-"

"The divorce papers," he cut in harshly, as though it should've been obvious.

My heart dropped - my stomach twisting painfully.

What?

"Here," His voice was clipped as he tossed me a pen. His movements were so impatient; one would think all this was an inconvenience to him and not someone who'd just spent the last few hours in labor.

"What–" My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the papers again in disbelief. What was going on? I had literally just given birth to his children. He couldn't be serious.

A divorce?

"I- I don't understand, I just gave birth-" My voice cracked.

"And you're damn lucky those kids are even mine!" His tone oozed with venom. "I had the doctors run a DNA test the minute they were born." My mouth fell open. "Had the results shown otherwise... believe me when I say I'd have made you and your lover's life miserable."

I reeled back in shock - the feeling so acute, it was dizzying. He'd done what? My what? The accusation hit me like a physical blow. My brain scrambled to make sense of the words as I struggled to breathe, my pulse thundering in my ears.

"Alex, what..." I choked out. "What lover?" Did he think I'd cheated on him? After I'd spent practically every second showing him how much he meant to me? "What are you talking about?"

"You're not fooling anyone, Raina." He spat, stepping closer. "Now, sign them."

Tears pricked my eyes.

"Is this some kind of joke?" It had to be! "I don't know what–"

"Oh, spare us the theatrics, Raina! We all know what's been going on." Vanessa, his sister, snarled from a corner of the room, stepping forward- I hadn't even noticed her. "So do us a favor and stop...fucking...pretending!"

My mind raced. This wasn't happening. No, it really couldn't be happening. Was I in a coma and living my worst nightmare?

"I'm not-" I started, but she flung a pile of photographs at me- some landing haphazardly on the bed, some fluttering to the floor.

Wincing, I pushed myself into a sitting position and reached for one with trembling hands. Seeing was difficult through the blur of tears. My breathing was labored, coming out rapid and shallow. "A- Alexander, listen-"

"Enough!" He barked furiously, before I'd even had a chance to see the glossy images. "Stop wasting my time and sign the damn papers, you whore!"

A whore? Me- his wife?

Where was this from? What was happening?

His words stung- like a needle lodging itself painfully in my chest.

Oh God, was he being serious then, about... ending this? Ending us?

Panic clawed at the insides of my throat as I began hyperventilating - my body shaking uncontrollably as the room began to spin.

Read Now