The Cost Of Misunderstanding Chinese Drama

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Modern Parenting Ex-wife Drama

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I was the little princess cherished by my brother Derek Walton, the most well-behaved girl in our family.

The boldest thing I ever did was hide my identity and date Lucas Morrison, my brother's sworn enemy, in secret for three years.

Over those three years, I let him record countless sex videos.

In the backseat of a sports car, I sat on his lap, completely bare, my waist gripped tightly in his hands.

Lucas, fully dressed, held his phone in his other hand.

"Lucas…" I tilted my head, lost in the moment, and whispered, "Please don't record…"

"Baby," Lucas said, his heated kisses trailing across my skin, "don't worry, these videos are just for me. You're so beautiful, I'd never let anyone else see."

My heart softened, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, overwhelmed with affection, letting the pleasure surge through me.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

Lucas frowned but answered it.

I glanced over, panting, and saw it was his sister, Laura Morrison.

"Lucas, did you propose?" she asked.

Lucas's brow furrowed, and he switched to Aurianese. "Speak in Aurianese! Ariella's right here!"

A curse came from the other end, then Laura switched to Aurianese. "You proposed to Braelynn, so why are you still messing around with Ariella? Get rid of her!"

I never told Lucas I understood Aurianese, so I caught every word.

My body went cold.

Lucas proposed to Braelynn Phillips?

Then why did he propose to me just days ago?

What was I to him?

"Ariella will stay by my side, but her status is too low to be the lady of the Morrison family," Lucas said coldly, not noticing my reaction. "Laura, mind your own business."

Laughter from other men burst through the phone.

"Lucas! You're marrying Braelynn, so Ariella's bound to dump you. Come on, let us see those little videos of her! I'm dying to see that gold-digger let loose!"

"Those videos are mine, and she's not going anywhere!" Lucas snapped, irritation creeping into his voice. "When I'm done with her, I'll let you have a look."

My mind went blank, as if someone had slammed a hammer into my temple.

Pain surged through me, making my whole body tremble.

Lucas hung up, annoyed, and gripped my waist to continue.

I tilted my head back, shaking, as a tear slid from the corner of my eye.

Even as my body reached its peak, my heart drowned in bitter anguish.

Lucas straightened his clothes, his discarded phone ringing again.

The screen lit up, and I stole a glance at the message.

Snowflake texted, "Lucas, my parents want to discuss our wedding plans."

My fingers trembled. "Snowflake" was his special nickname for Braelynn.

Lucas glanced at the message and turned to me. "Ariella, I have some family matters to handle. Can you take a cab home?"

I looked at him deeply, nodded, and opened the car door.

The sports car sped off without hesitation.