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Happily Hopefully

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Huo Wuer
Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.
Modern DivorceEx-wifeRebirthDivorceEx-wife
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1

His lips kept dominating mine, sucking each other like we had never eaten anything else. I couldn’t stop rubbing myself on his chest; my concealed moans from being devoured by his were driving him to the edge. I could feel his pre-cum in my hand. We weren’t ever supposed to mix; a black wolf mixing with a white wolf was the devil’s work at hand, yet here we were, ravishing each other as if we needed one another like we needed air.

We were of the same height, yet built almost opposite; as a white wolf, my complexion was white as dark snow, my eyes white as pearls, the moon shined through them, as tall but slim in body, I was no match for the man that roamed my now exposed chest with his though hand taping over my sensitive, sore breasts, stretching my bare skin till he heard my cries muffled in his mouth, all as his other hand rubbed my front lower abdomen reaching enough to grab in between my legs pumping into me his thick finger, he kept rubbing my clit against his harsh palm, a man built as one of the gods, muscles covered his body, white, pale skin with his clan's black hair, eyes as black as night with ice white Iris that would tear up your soul.

Lost in my mind, he backed; I whimpered, enticing him with a growl; I could feel the damp moist in between my legs; I have been married to my chosen mate for years; never once had we laid together; our marriage was a simple agreement to win the war against the man who has been ravishing me. With his exposed body, he takes my thighs, lifts me against my dresser, and rips what’s left of my silver-colored silk nightgown, exposing my entire naked body. After raping me with his eyes, I couldn’t contain myself as I started to touch my foreskin. He removed his garments, not leaving him with my now moist fingers, and he took my hand out of my aching body, taking me up against his hips. My legs wrapped around his lower abdomen. I felt his member pressing on my hot core.

Laced with lust, his voice spoke, “I need you now more than when I laid eyes on you, my mate.” Moving his hips, he runs his shaft on my core, and my body moves to meet his, covering more of his post with my juices. “If we do this, there is no turning back,” I had half asked him. I wanted him more than anyone in my life; how could fate be this evil to me?

My fated mate, who was so close to taking my virtue, just as before the man who had declared his desire for my flesh now as he did when we were but young in youth, was the current King, the King of the east side, yet just like my own pack, none who live in either kingdom know of our existence. To them, we are but their rulers; in any accident, we are but their frightening story of werewolves. “I hold no queen; you hold but a failed marriage; to a pathetic excuse for a ruler, who will you come to choose in the end? You belong to me! Mine!” He slowly rubbed his tip against my entrance; the heat of his coated cock made me quiver. As I whimper, the heat starts to become unbearable.

I took his hair firmly in my hands and pulled him closer. “It may be true that I am to be yours, but my marriage cannot fail; do not mistake my desires for my duty, I.” He started to kiss me passionately. I had never kissed a man; I had kissed a boy, had him take my first, and after such, I never saw the bare body of any man, for I laid every night after I had been wed in the comfort of my solitude. As a young woman, I had my intimacy with his youth, which I believed would serve me as my everlasting memory. “Leave him, leave him, or I’ll steal you away as my queen.” I couldn’t bear to leave him again, yet I knew he meant his words. A knock on the door stopped us both, and as we looked at the door, my white, long, thick hair fell over my sweating chest. “Who calls?” I asked in authority; I was still Queen.

“My Queen, your King wishes you to visit his chambers this instant,” came the voice of his favorite servant. My heart is sinking; he never sends Isabella; under no circumstances does he ever send the love of his life to me. “Remain where you stand; I shall not be long,” I ordered her in my aura; if I didn't, she would do as she pleased, the spoiled rat of my husband.

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