Impulsive Vow To An Enigmatic Husband

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

Xiao Hong Mao

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

Modern Revenge

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A message arrived with five attached photos.

Those were photos of entangled clothes, hands clasped tightly, crumpled sheets, a blurred reflection in the bathroom mirror...

This wasn't the first time Rona Lewis had received such a provocation.

The large hand, clutching so hard that it was almost embedded in the flesh of another woman's wrist, was instantly recognizable as belonging to her longtime boyfriend, Darren Williams, with whom she had grown up.

She glanced at the date on the photos. They were taken on their third anniversary.

On that day, Rona, having received an emergency call from the hospital, was told that Darren had been in a car accident. In a panic, she had run through three red lights to get to the hospital.

But as she had arrived, she just saw Darren rushing into the emergency room, carrying his secretary, Khloe Flynn, who was covered in blood.

He disappeared for nine days, and finally reappeared with Khloe by his side without any explanation.

It was said that Khloe was severely injured and lost her memory while saving Darren, causing her heavy reliance on him.

Feeling guilty, Darren was devoted to tenderly take care of her and always stayed by her side to repay her favor.

Letting out a cold laugh, Rona closed the chat and finally sent a message to her mother who had been rushing her, "I agree to the marriage."

But before leaving, Rona had three gifts for Darren.

...

Rona was standing in front of Darren's office, with the contract that the legal department was urging to be signed clutched in her hand.

At first, she habitually wanted to push the door open and walk in.

Everyone in the company knew about her relationship with Darren, so formalities were never needed.

But today, she gently knocked at the door after she hesitatingly held her hand over the door for a moment.

Inside, there was rustling sounds mixed with a woman's soft laughter.

Rona's heart tightened. But she couldn't stop herself from pushing the door open.

The scene in the office she saw was like a slap in her face.

Darren was leaning against the desk, with Khloe almost entirely nestled in his arms, adjusting his tie with her slender hands.

Sunlight streamed through the picture windows, outlining a silhouette of an intimate couple.

"Darren, here are the documents..." Rona's voice was caught in her throat.

Both Darren and Khloe turned to Rona.

Khloe's face still bore a faint blush. A flicker of panic crossed Darren's eyes before he regained his usual composure.

He naturally distanced himself from Khloe, striding quickly toward Rona.

"Rona?" As he reached for the documents, his fingers slipped between hers, interlocking them, "Why did you come up here yourself? Miss me?"

His hand was warm and dry, the touch Rona was most familiar with.

For the past three years, his hands had secretly squeezed her fingertips under the conference table, held her waist at an annual party to declare her identity as his girlfriend, and draped a coat over her shoulders during late-night overtime.

But now, she only felt the heat from it was uncomfortably burning.

Instinctively, Rona tried to pull her hand back, but she couldn't as Darren tightened his grip.

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