His Dumped Ex wife Is A Hidden Ace

His Dumped Ex-wife Is A Hidden Ace

ImpostorGroup FavoriteFamily FeudHidden IdentitiesCounterattack

Christina was dumped by her ex-husband Brendon for his first love, Yolanda. But Christina's done playing nice. After the divorce papers were signed, she walked onto the shooting range as "Rose", the champion no one knew was her. The crowd went silent. She holds the one thing the most powerful man in the city needs, a chance to be saved by King, the legendary healer. Dylan, head of the Scott family, will do anything for her. Now Brendon wants her back, while his whole family and Yolanda schemes, but Christina destroys them every single time. Piece by piece, her real identity comes out. They're about to learn who they messed with.

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The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback

Zhi Yao

For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties. But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom. Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot. Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years. "You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic." My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support. They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets. I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life. But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree. Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate. When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block.

Billionaires Divorce Billionaire Female-Centered Divorce Personal Growth

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Valenticia's POV:

I stood in the kitchen, my fingers trembling slightly as I arranged strawberries around the rim of a porcelain plate. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the rich aroma of buttered croissants and scrambled eggs.

"Is this alright, madam?" Maria, the maid, held up a crystal vase filled with soft pink peonies-Dmitri's favourite.

"It's perfect," I whispered, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

"Madam, shall I bring in the flowers?" She asked, once again.

"Yes, please." I offered a smile, clutching the hem of my lavender dress. "Set them by the table."

When she was done, I turned to her with a wide smile. "Thank you, Maria."

She nodded, returning the smile before retreating into the corridor.

I wanted everything to be perfect.

Tomorrow would be our first anniversary. One year since I had married Dmitri Galden, trading my heart and future for an arranged marriage.

It was meant to be, something his grandfather wanted, but somewhere along the lines, my heart had betrayed me. I had fallen in love with my husband, despite the cold, business-like terms that bound us.

And for the first time in a year, he finally acknowledged me as his wife and consummated our marriage last night.

Since It was the first night we had shared a bed, I am convinced that it was the beginning of something real.

I smoothed my dress, a lavender silk that Dmitri had once complimented. My hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders, and I dabbed a bit of his favourite perfume on my wrists. I wanted everything to be perfect.

A creak echoed through the hall. I turned, my heart leaping.

"Dmitri?"

He stood at the entrance, already dressed in a black suit, his brown hair was still damp from a shower, strands clinging to his forehead. He looked every bit the powerful CEO, exuding a cold, unapproachable aura.

"I made breakfast," I said, forcing brightness into my voice. "I thought we could celebrate early-"

"I don't have time." He said, coldly.

"But... I wanted us to have a nice breakfast, you know, before our anniversary." I took a hesitant step forward. "It's been a year, Dmitri. I thought-"

"Don't." His gaze slid past me. "I have meetings all day."

"Please." My voice cracked. "Just a few minutes. I made your favourite-"

He was already walking away.

Feeling really desperate, I reached out for his sleeve. "Dmitri!"

He paused. "Let go, Valenticia."

"Just one bite. One sip of coffee. Anything. Please."

He turned, and the look in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs. There was nothing there, no warmth, no recognition. Just coldness.

"I said I don't have time."

And then he was gone.

I stood there, my arm still outstretched, my hand grasping nothing but air.

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