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The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire

Reilly Mcardle

For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse. Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée. She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm. "Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital." As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire. I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit. "I'm done with you." The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies.

Modern Doctor Kickass Heroine Billionaire Ex-wife Kickass Heroine

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WARNING: THIS IS A COPYRIGHTED BOOK UNDER THE GOVERNMENT OF THE PHILIPPINES, OWNED BY JMFELIC. INFRINGERS WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY. THE AUTHOR HAS GIVEN MOBOREADER THE RIGHTS TO PUBLISH THIS BOOK IN THEIR APP/WEBSITE.

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< Serena >

Paintings.

I always love them. Whenever there was an art show near Manhattan, I make it a point to go, check the artworks and possibly buy one. Or two. Or three of them.

What I look for in a painting are the strokes the painter uses, the use of colors and how they blend in with the picture in general, and of course, the drawing.

I'm a sucker for fantasy-inspired paintings. Fantastical landscapes, still pictures, mythical creatures, men and women wearing weird clothing, oh yes. I collect them all. They always reach out to a part of my soul that I had been guarding since I lost my parents. They always call out to a part of me that I'm not sure what.

Maybe, my parents as painters could be a reason. They influenced my tastes after all. But deep inside me, I knew there was always something special about these type of paintings that I couldn't quite figure out.

One rainy day, I ran across an antique shop in downtown Manhattan about to be closed by the bank for bankruptcy. The different antique displays were spread all over the street in the hopes that some passers-by would still buy them.

I caught sight of a beautiful painting of a landscape. Breathtaking it was and purely, for lack of a better word, out-of-this-world. The painting showed a mountain range with its slopes covered in autumn trees. In the center of this mountain range, just nestled on top the hill, was a silver castle. The details were extraordinary. Magical even. I couldn't resist its call, so in the end, I bought it. Plus, I didn't want it to be wet with the rain. I wanted to give it a home.

The antique shop owner, an old lady probably in her late sixties, was gracious enough to give me a discount considering the painting had smudges on the edges due to its aged state. I was kind enough to refuse it. If she was in bankruptcy, at least my full payment of the painting would help her in some way.

"May the magic be with you always, " she said with a smile as we parted.

I just shrugged my shoulders never really thinking much of about her words.

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