Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon

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

Download the Book on the App

PUNIT’S POV

I’m gay.

Well, not really. That’s what the others think. If you ask me why, then, let me tell you, it took me a couple of years to figure that out.

Apparently, people have this notion that guys into fashion designing or the nursing profession are by default gays.

I know, right? Crazy! I don’t even know where they got that idea from! And maybe I’ll never find out. But hey, you don’t see any of them hitting on other boys. At least the majority of them. And even if they do, so what? That’s their choice. That doesn’t make nursing or fashion designing the official course for gays.

Okay, I know you must be wondering why I brought this up. For one, I’m frustrated that people think I’m gay. I’m not. Now let’s get that clear. I’m happily married to a woman for God’s sake. And two, I’m a nurse. A male nurse.

There, I see some of you scrunching up your faces already.

Whatever! I’m a nurse. Whether you like it or not. And to be honest, I hated my job too. Like, who wants to go around asking old-timers, “do you want to pee?” “Do you want to take a dump?” “Are you wet?” “Come, let me change your diapers.” “Ooh! Now that’s a big load!” It’s... well, tiring and... weird. I’m kind of used to it now.

Read Now