The Placeholder Wife: A Billionaire's Secret

The Placeholder Wife: A Billionaire's Secret

Rafaela Kokkotou

5.0
Comment(s)
6.5K
View
24
Chapters

It was my 30th birthday, and I was patiently dining alone at a Michelin-star restaurant, waiting for my finance titan husband, Julian, to arrive. Suddenly, my phone screen flickered to life, displaying a TMZ headline that stopped my breath: "Julian Vance Spotted with Returning Socialite Chloe Sinclair – Old Flames Rekindled?" A video showed Julian, my husband, shielding Chloe from the rain and cameras, his arm protectively around her. Shock, cold and sharp, spread through me, as the bitter taste of betrayal filled my mouth. This wasn't just a business meeting; it was a public declaration of his true affections. The table was set for two, but the untouched food grew cold as countless minutes ticked by, each one deepening the suffocating loneliness I felt. Five years. Five years I had spent waiting; five years I had been a placeholder for the woman he truly loved, the one he married me to forget. Then, a text from Julian cemented my despair: "Raincheck on birthday. Next year." There would be no next year for us. My quiet endurance finally gave way to a hardened resolve. I signaled the maître d', trading the lavish, uneaten meal for a sturdy umbrella. I walked out into the Manhattan rain, a clear decision forming in my mind: this was the end. But for me, it was also a new beginning.

The Placeholder Wife: A Billionaire's Secret Introduction

It was my 30th birthday, and I was patiently dining alone at a Michelin-star restaurant, waiting for my finance titan husband, Julian, to arrive.

Suddenly, my phone screen flickered to life, displaying a TMZ headline that stopped my breath: "Julian Vance Spotted with Returning Socialite Chloe Sinclair – Old Flames Rekindled?"

A video showed Julian, my husband, shielding Chloe from the rain and cameras, his arm protectively around her.

Shock, cold and sharp, spread through me, as the bitter taste of betrayal filled my mouth.

This wasn't just a business meeting; it was a public declaration of his true affections.

The table was set for two, but the untouched food grew cold as countless minutes ticked by, each one deepening the suffocating loneliness I felt.

Five years. Five years I had spent waiting; five years I had been a placeholder for the woman he truly loved, the one he married me to forget.

Then, a text from Julian cemented my despair: "Raincheck on birthday. Next year."

There would be no next year for us.

My quiet endurance finally gave way to a hardened resolve.

I signaled the maître d', trading the lavish, uneaten meal for a sturdy umbrella.

I walked out into the Manhattan rain, a clear decision forming in my mind: this was the end.

But for me, it was also a new beginning.

Continue Reading

Other books by Rafaela Kokkotou

More
Love, Lies, And A Second Life

Love, Lies, And A Second Life

Horror

5.0

The air in the room was stale, thick with the smell of antiseptic and despair. They told me I was sick, that grief had broken my mind. My mother-in-law, Martha, would visit, her concern a chilling mask, whispering to doctors how I was hallucinating, a danger to myself and my son, Billy. "She doesn' t understand that David is gone," she' d insist, loud enough for me to hear. But the real horror wasn't my madness; it was the truth. Three days after my husband, David, a decorated police officer, was supposedly killed, I stood at his memorial, expected to mourn. The man in the casket wasn't David. It was Mark, his identical twin, missing the faded scar David always had. That night, I found David, not dead, but alive in our summer cabin, with his childhood sweetheart, Emily Peterson. He confessed it all with chilling indifference: Mark was killed in a shootout, and David seized the chance for a new life, free from me and Billy. "I never loved you," he said, as if explaining a simple math problem. "It was always Emily." I tried to tell everyone-his mother, his captain-but they looked at me with pity, already conditioned by Martha and David' s lies. They had me committed to a white room, and David married Emily. My four-year-old son, Billy, was left in their care, crying for me every night. Then came the unbearable news: Billy was dead, a "tragic accident" from an overdose of cough medicine. My world shattered. Desperate, I fashioned a noose, remembering Billy' s bright laugh, the life David had stolen. My only regret was that David would never face justice. I kicked the chair away. Darkness took me. Then, a blinding light, and I was back on my living room couch, the day David was supposedly killed. I wasn' t dead. I was back. Martha' s face, a mask of practiced sadness, now held a triumphant curl. I heard David' s voice from the hallway, "Is she stable?" "She' s fragile, but she bought it," Martha replied. "She' ll break, just like we planned. We' ll have her committed, and Billy will be ours." "Good," David said. "Make sure she doesn' t get near the body. Mark didn' t have my scar." This time, I was not the grieving widow. I was the executioner.

You'll also like

The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy

The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy

Emma
5.0

I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset. I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister. I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar. He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured. I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield. "I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment." Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre." As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
The Placeholder Wife: A Billionaire's Secret The Placeholder Wife: A Billionaire's Secret Rafaela Kokkotou Billionaires
“It was my 30th birthday, and I was patiently dining alone at a Michelin-star restaurant, waiting for my finance titan husband, Julian, to arrive. Suddenly, my phone screen flickered to life, displaying a TMZ headline that stopped my breath: "Julian Vance Spotted with Returning Socialite Chloe Sinclair – Old Flames Rekindled?" A video showed Julian, my husband, shielding Chloe from the rain and cameras, his arm protectively around her. Shock, cold and sharp, spread through me, as the bitter taste of betrayal filled my mouth. This wasn't just a business meeting; it was a public declaration of his true affections. The table was set for two, but the untouched food grew cold as countless minutes ticked by, each one deepening the suffocating loneliness I felt. Five years. Five years I had spent waiting; five years I had been a placeholder for the woman he truly loved, the one he married me to forget. Then, a text from Julian cemented my despair: "Raincheck on birthday. Next year." There would be no next year for us. My quiet endurance finally gave way to a hardened resolve. I signaled the maître d', trading the lavish, uneaten meal for a sturdy umbrella. I walked out into the Manhattan rain, a clear decision forming in my mind: this was the end. But for me, it was also a new beginning.”
1

Introduction

06/06/2025

2

Chapter 1

06/06/2025

3

Chapter 2

06/06/2025

4

Chapter 3

06/06/2025

5

Chapter 4

06/06/2025

6

Chapter 5

06/06/2025

7

Chapter 6

06/06/2025

8

Chapter 7

06/06/2025

9

Chapter 8

06/06/2025

10

Chapter 9

06/06/2025

11

Chapter 10

06/06/2025

12

Chapter 11

06/06/2025

13

Chapter 12

06/06/2025

14

Chapter 13

06/06/2025

15

Chapter 14

06/06/2025

16

Chapter 15

06/06/2025

17

Chapter 16

06/06/2025

18

Chapter 17

06/06/2025

19

Chapter 18

06/06/2025

20

Chapter 19

06/06/2025

21

Chapter 20

06/06/2025

22

Chapter 21

06/06/2025

23

Chapter 22

06/06/2025

24

Chapter 23

06/06/2025