MARRYING A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

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.

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The blue light from the MacBook screen was the only thing giving color to Kailee Lynn's face. She sat at the vanity of the Presidential Suite in The Plaza, her fingers moving across the keyboard with a speed that contradicted the heavy silence of the room.

Behind her, the lead stylist tugged a section of her hair too hard.

Kailee's head jerked back slightly.

"Oh my god, Ms. Lynn, I am so sorry," the stylist gasped, dropping the comb.

Kailee didn't blink. Her eyes stayed glued to the legal document on her screen-a draft of a non-disclosure agreement so dense it looked like a wall of text.

"Continue," she said. The word was flat.

The suite door suddenly opened.

Chaya walked in, her hand was wrapped around her phone.

The air in the room changed. The makeup artist paused with a brush mid-air, the stylist stopped touching the veil, everyone looked at Chaya.

Kailee stopped typing, swiveled in her chair. Her gaze cut through the room, ignoring the pleasantries.

"Julian isn't here," Kailee said. It wasn't a question.

Chaya swallowed. "His phone goes straight to voicemail. The best man isn't answering, the groomsmen are dark."

The stylist behind Kailee sucked in a breath.

Kailee looked at the clock on the wall.

7:12 PM.

"If this merger doesn't proceed, the SEC's investigation into the family trust accelerates," Kailee said, her voice a low murmur meant only for Chaya. "The asset seizure would begin by market open." She looked at Chaya. "Contact PR. Tell them to prep the contingency statement for a delayed start due to technical difficulties. Do not mention the groom."

Chaya stared at her boss, she nodded.

Kailee stood up, the silk robe she wore slipped down her shoulders. For a second, the heavy concealer on her back was visible-thick, flesh-toned paste covering scars that spoke of a past far removed from art galleries and ballrooms.

A knock at the door.

"Ms. Lynn? The guests are seated, the music loop is ending." It was the wedding planner. Her voice was an octave too high.

Kailee walked to the door and pulled it open.

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