My Wife Is a Superstar

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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The maternity ward in Queen Mary Hospital, in Summer City.

Kate Stark was lying on the operating table with her hair disheveled, her face was pale, dripping with sweat, her legs were wide apart, and blood was pouring out from her lower body, turning the snow-white sheets blood red.

In the blood lay a tiny baby, the umbilical cord still attached to the mother's body, his eyes tightly closed, his face was purple, his mouth slightly opened and his tiny chest was slowly rising and falling.

Yvonne Stark took the tools on the operating table and fiddled with the baby and said, "Oops...my little nephew is still alive after all sorts of torturing."

Ken Brook pulled a cold smile from the corner of his mouth and cast a sidelong glance at the baby, "What's the point of living, is a bitch qualified to bear my child, to bear the Brook family's great-grandson, huh!"

Kate looked at the two people in front of her, the hatred in her heart growing like wild weeds, the fire of hatred burning in her eyes, and she gritted her teeth and scolded, "You must die in my boots!"

Yvonne giggled without shame, "Is sister blind? Now in this situation, you can't even get off the operating table, how can we die in your boots, right, Ken?"

Kate's body trembled, she clenched her fists, her nails were deeply embedded in the flesh of her palm, and her teeth were gnashing, "How dare you guys, if you do this, won't you be afraid of my father......."

"Oops....honey, I am sooo scared." Yvonne deliberately hugged Ken in a spoiled manner, said with a pretty smile, "Maybe I forgot to tell you, I am the real Stark family, how would dad blame me?"

What?

What did she mean?

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