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The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback

Zhi Yao

For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties. But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom. Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot. Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years. "You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic." My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support. They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets. I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life. But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree. Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate. When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block.

Billionaires Divorce Billionaire Female-Centered Divorce Personal Growth

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When Olivia White came to her senses, she found herself wrapped in a blanket naked.

Feeling parched and weak, she knew she had been drugged.

When she looked around, she spotted a surprisingly large mirror right in front of her and a camera at the bedside.

Her heart convulsing, Olivia vaguely understood what was going on here.

As the effect of the drug kicked in, Olivia gritted her teeth to remain conscious. No, if that kind of video was shot, her life would be ruined.

There was no time for her to figure out the plotter. She struggled to get off the bed. Fortunately, the other party didn't anticipate her remaining strength and left the door unlocked.

During her work, Olivia was knocked unconscious and sent to this floor. With no clothes on, she had to wrap herself in the thin blanket and escape on bare feet. In case people would recognize her, she deliberately ruffled her hair, messed up her heavy makeup, and walked in the dark.

This clubhouse boasted abundant female and male prostitutes. The signs hanging outside the rooms stood for availability tonight. Blue signs represented men and pink women.

Olivia didn't really have the time to go to the hospital. Gritting her teeth, she made up her mind and searched the rooms with blue signs one by one.

Unfortunately, not a single soul could be found.

In desperation, she pushed open the last room at the end of the corridor. To her surprise, she found a man sitting by the window.

He turned back at the sound.

Despite the dim light, Olivia could still feel the man's sculpted features and lean figure. A perfect target.

"100 yuan for one night. What do you say?" She got straight to the point in a hoarse voice.

Ignorant of the price, she could only offer that much.

The man frowned unhappily and darted a cold look at her. Regardless of that, Olivia had to make do at such a critical moment!

She strode to the man.

"Get out." Vincent Barton opened his lips, his voice icy cold.

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