Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge

is a match. It's

ce room door, the quarterly

best friend and doctor. But the next voice,

"Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava

with my health, insisting on daily "vitami

I realized he was actually

n argued weakly. "You can't j

an replied, his indifference cutting deeper than

orce of a physical blow. The naus

preg

They weren't supplements. They were poisons

is own child to

I was livestock. An asset

into the room.

lence, my hand hove

dney? He wanted

t then. I woul

cy, fake my death, and burn h

pte

Mill

a match, Ethan. It'

ajar door of the executive conference r

and personal physician. But the hesitation in his tone was new.

warmth he usually reserved for public appearances. "Chloe canno

quarterly reports I was holding d

match. S

ound my skull like m

insisted on comprehensive checkups, blood draws, and endless te

lay the doting husband while he was

, his voice dropping lower. "She is your wi

ate," Ethan replied. The indifference in his tone cut deeper than any scalpel.

away from

I walked backward until I hit the opposite wall of the corridor. My h

blood

n had asked about over dinner three nights ago, swirling his wine

go into t

, pressing the down button with a tremblin

d Innovate charity ga

gowns. I stood by Ethan's side, a prop in a silk

rophone, flashing that million-dollar smile that had

owd ap

nd my throat. The metal was cold against my skin.

ear, his lips grazing my l

e that resembled happiness. But

aw

e champagne tower, looking pale

his mask slipped. The adoration in his eyes when

never, not once in te

unded like static. The compliments from the guests-"You

room," I muttered, pull

went straight to the valet, g

t on the cold floor of the living r

had given h

pped out of my PhD program to nurse him. When his com

s recovery. I thought it was the beginning of a lo

he asset was depreciating, he

ble part of my life, A

able. Lik

as a text from Mrs. D

or the hospital again. He is visit

m 4

mentioned on the phone last wee

g, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. I wasn't going

crolled to a number I had

shaking. "We need to talk