Husbands First Love Killed My Son

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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Emily’s point of view.

“Mommy, can I go with you to the art exhibition tomorrow?” Olivia said her plea accompanied by a pout and her best puppy-dog eyes that are quite attractive as a result of her hazel eyes. She is an inquisitive and charming thirteen-year-old with a face that has both her parents' features, accompanied by her chestnut hair.

She is the living proof of her mother's previous relationship with the billionaire tech mogul, Daniel Hartman, despite the pain and heartbreak she endured. Olivia is remarkably curious and intelligent, inheriting her parent’s love for the arts.

Emily firmly responded, “Olivia, the last time you followed me to an exhibition, you nearly disappeared, and I was worried sick. So, my answer is a definite no,”

“Mommy, please” Olivia implored, her eyes filled with earnest longing.

“Fine!” She breathed out, “You can come with me, but you'll be under my constant supervision. No asking, ‘Mommy, can I go see this?’”

“Thank you so much, mommy. I love, love, love, you so much,” Olivia said, dancing in excitement as she made her way out of the art studio.

Emily chuckled and she proceeded to admire her artwork.

She sighed with satisfaction, appreciating her creation. Approaching the place where she had hung them, she gently touched the artwork, admiring it with a sense of contentment.

“They're beautiful,” Sarah said softly as she walked in, catching Emily by surprise.

Startled by the sudden sound of her voice, Emily responded, “Don't sneak up on me like that, girl,” playfully feigning annoyance.

Sarah chuckled, saying, “You’re so skittish, Emily.”

“Whatever. You always manage to get on my nerves,” Emily retorted with a hint of humor.

“What are best friends for?” Sarah said with a playful tone.

Emily quipped with a knowing smile, acknowledging the quirks and occasional annoyances that come with their close bond.

“You know there are chances that you’d run into him right?” Sarah inquired, hinting at the potential encounter.

“I know, Sarah. Please, don't remind me. I'd rather not think about it,” she replied, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“I mean, you can always attend another art exhibition other than this one being sponsored by him,” Sarah said, her voice filled with concern.

Turning abruptly to face her friend, shocked by her words, she questioned, “What? Are you serious right now?” She continued, “You know how much of a struggling artist I am, I juggle between my two part-time jobs and this art as well. This could be a chance for recognition, and that's all I want - to succeed and be able to cover my bills without burdening you or anyone else!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I was just genuinely concerned for you,” Emily pleaded, her face reflecting sincere remorse.

“You can do better, Sarah. Encourage me, tell me you'll be there with me, support me. That's all I need from you, and not to get on my nerves,” Emily pleaded.

Reaching out to give her a warm and heartfelt embrace, “I'm sorry,” Sarah whispered, expressing her sincere apology and understanding.

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