Hating The 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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Sara groggily opened one eye to find her alarm clock blaring loudly on her nightstand. She let out a groan and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head.

"Maddy, turn it off!" She mumbled, her voice muffled by the blankets.

Madison stomped into Sara's room, looking frazzled. "Come on, Sara! You're going to be late!" she exclaimed, snatching up the alarm clock and silencing it.

Sara sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Five more minutes," she begged.

Madison threw up her hands in exasperation. "You don't have five more minutes! You have an interview in an hour, and you still need to shower and get dressed!"

Sara yawned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'll be fine," she said, but Madison was having none of it.

"No, you won't be fine!" Madison said, grabbing Sara's arm and pulling her out of bed. "You're going to be late, and you're going to blow it! Now come on, let's get moving!"

Maddy dragged Sara into the bathroom, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "You're going to be late, Sara! You need to wake up!"

Sara stumbled along, her eyes half-closed. "Just five more minutes..." she mumbled.

Maddy had had enough. She pushed Sara into the shower stall and turned the faucet to cold. The sudden rush of icy water hit Sara like a slap in the face.

Sara's eyes jerked open as the cold water cascaded down on her. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "Ahh! Maddy!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with shock.

Maddy stood outside the shower, a satisfied smirk on her face. "That should wake you up," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sara stood under the cold water, her eyes wide with shock. She was fully awake now, and she glared at Maddy through the clear shower door. "You're going to pay for this," she muttered, her teeth chattering with cold.

Maddy walked towards the door, a smug smile still plastered on her face. "We'll see about that," she said, referring to Sara's threat of revenge. "But for now, get ready! Breakfast is on the table. I'm leaving; I don't want to be late. Mr. Reed won't like it."

She glanced at Sara, who was still shivering under the cold water. "Good luck with your interview, by the way. I'll see you tonight. Bye!"

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