Bound to the CEO

Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon

Rum Runner

I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate. The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed. The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent. He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to. I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire? As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time. "Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival. "But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head." I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground.

Modern Revenge Bankruptcy Billionaires Female-Centered Ex-wife

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An annoyed sigh escapes my lips.

New York was famous for its crazy lengthy traffic and while it may not be as crazy as the traffic Shu -my friend- claims is in Beijing, it sure is to make a person go crazy especially on a Monday morning.

I draw my lips gently in between my teeth wondering if I should walk the remaining distance to work or risk being late by sitting in the uber. My eyes fall on the man sitting by the side of a Dunkin shop on the pavement, his palms open and a scarf covering his face despite it being summer.

I stare at his shirt which was neat in contrast to his trousers, his backpack held close to his chest as he watched people walk past him.

My heart peels out of my chest.

Freshly homeless?

Ok. Change of plans.

I grab my bag and step out of the uber making sure to pay with a small sorry.

"Here" I pull out the lunch I had packed for myself handing it over to the man watching as his dull brown eyes light up.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and cracky.

"Sure! Apparently I don't like cheese as much as I thought." I give him what I think is a disarming smile but by the contorted look on his face, it might as well be an alien proving his paternity by my smile.

"Alright, thank you." he reaches out to accept it.

"You know, down the street, just around the corner at the 31st, an organization shares meals there every Thursdays."

He looks up at me again, "I see. Shouldn't you be going?''

I frown, 'is he telling me off?'

"I should." I say nodding my head slowly while he just looks at me.

'Whatever. I'd better get to work.' I say in my mind and turn away abruptly.

"What the fuck?!!" I screech, staring down at brown liquid stain spreading over my white shirt fast.

"Shit. My coffee." A cold voice says from above me.

"Fuck!. Couldn't you look at where you're going?" I yell, searching my bag frantically for tissues.

"Lady, you just wasted my entire coffee." a self-concieted voice speaks above my head.

"The fuck? You spilled your coffee on me." I say emphasizing the 'your' while dabbing the spreading stain with tissues that do nothing to help.

"I'm very busy and I don't have time to trade words with you. But, I'll give you this advice, Next time look at where you are going." The cold voice speaks again.

Now, I'm a fairly decent person, but right now, my anger is about to boil over the top because this person is exasperating.

I raise my head, ready to put this guy in his place but my mouth forgets how to speak for a moment as my eyes hit the most beautiful face I'd ever come across since my birth.

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