The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

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.

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Note: This book contains a blend of first person POV and third person pov.

Chapter 1 : A knife to the heart

Richard's snarl cut through the silence of the study. "Sign the damn divorce papers, Aurora."

A faint, cold smirk touched my lips. Did he truly think I was that much of a fool?

"You think I'll grant you the privilege of spending my father's wealth on your mistress?"My voice was as sharp as a shard of glass. "I'm not signing a thing."

A deadly glare burned in his eyes, his face a mask of pure rage. "You stubborn bitch. To hell with you!" he thundered, storming out and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

The moment he was gone, the strength drained from my body. I slumped onto the couch, heaving a sigh that felt like it carried the weight of the last five years. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the hot tears that threatened to fall.

Five years. Five years of a marriage I never wanted, a final promise to my father, before he passed. And in some foolish, hidden corner of my heart, I'd begun to feel something for this man. But Richard had only ever been a ghost in our home, draining the company accounts to fund his affairs. He never offered a kind word, never pretended to love me. Why would he? He didn't.

And now he wanted a divorce? He wanted to legitimize his theft and parade his whores on my father's fortune? I wouldn't give him the pleasure.

I snatched my keys from the table. I needed a drink, something strong enough to burn the memory of his voice from my mind. It was my only coping mechanism.

The bar was a blur of fluorescent lights and the dizzying hum of strangers' laughter. I slid onto a stool. "Tequila. Neat," I told the bartender. The glass was cold in my hand. I threw it back in one searing gulp, but it did nothing to silence the echo of Richard's words.

My grip tightened on the empty glass. Why couldn't he just love me? What did I ever do to deserve such hatred?

"Hey there, mademoiselle." A voice sliced through my thoughts.

I turned to see a tall man with a thick beard, a cocky smile plastered on his round face.

"Hey,"I replied flatly, signaling the bartender for another drink.

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