Roughneck

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.

Modern Divorce Ex-wife

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Corrine Holland stood moments away from marrying Bruce Ashton, her dream finally within reach.

The wedding march echoed through the hall as she glided down the red carpet in her immaculate white gown, moving toward Bruce who awaited her at the altar.

Bathed in streams of golden light, his white suit seemed to shimmer, highlighting the refined features that had first captured her heart years ago.

Their relationship had weathered countless storms over three years, and now, despite her family's refusal to bless their union, her cherished dream approached reality.

As Bruce stepped forward to present her bouquet, tears of joy threatened to spill from her eyes.

The priest's kind eyes settled on the couple as he spoke. "Do you, Bruce Ashton, take this woman to be your wife? Will you love her, honor her, respect her, and accept her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Corrine's heart fluttered as she turned expectantly toward Bruce, awaiting his answer.

Instead of joy, however, his features twisted with uncertainty, an unsettling hesitation clouding his expression.

Suddenly, the doors burst open. Rita Ashton, Bruce's younger sister, stumbled in with tears streaming down her face. "Bruce, it's bad!" she cried, looking lost and desperate. "Leah... she... she..."

A cold wave of dread washed over Corrine. Her grip tightened around Bruce's hand as her heart hammered against her ribs.

The name awakened painful memories—Leah Burgess, the unreachable star in Bruce's firmament.

When the Ashton family had fallen from grace years ago, Leah had chosen opportunity abroad over love, prompting Bruce to sever ties and turn to Corrine.

Yet just a month ago, Leah had mysteriously reappeared.

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