icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife

The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife

Author: Rum Runner
icon

Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 1317    |    Released on: 13/01/2026

stopped typing. They watched her pass with eyes full of judgment. They kne

't wash things clean. It j

e was apparently worth. The air conditioning in the top-floor office of K

esk. Specifically, at the do

" Isaiah

of the storm like a blade. He didn't need to turn around to exert pressure. His voice did that on its own. I

Please. Just look at the evidence one more time. The toxi

e. He didn't have to. "Or the transfer to the di

hand s

ly family she had left. His kidneys were failing. The machine that cleaned his blood three times a week was the only thi

fountain pen. It w

say it. Even if the words died in the empty

ah t

leaning over her. He smelled of rain and expensive scotch and pure, unadulterated hatred. His eyes, usually

ke poison. "She was pregnant, Karen. You pushed a pregnant woman down a f

accusation hit her l

out, tears blurring her vision. "

er off. "I saw your hand

ress. It was a perfect story, except for the fact that it was a lie. A lie made easier to believe by the months they ha

he said

in the air.

tubes. If she fought this, if she dragged this divorce out, Danny would die. Isaiah King

eyes. She unc

. She signed her name. With that signature, she wasn't just ending a marriage that no on

the pe

didn't look at her. He tossed the folder toward the lawyer who had been st

was devoid of inflection. "They have a warrant for you

creeched against the floor. Panic,

you said if

djusting his cufflinks, looking at a point above her head. "I didn

ah, p

," he said. He finally looked at her. His gaze

ha

"You're going to see what you did. You're

ts stepped in. They weren't police y

of my sight,"

her heels catching on the plush carpet. She looked back at Isaiah, searc

thing. Just

leaned against the metal wall, trying to breathe. Her chest

to the lobby, the fl

ounding like a swarm of mechanical locusts. Reporters

Did yo

feel about

is way,

ding himself from the lights. The reporters quieted down instantly, parting like the R

straight to the black Rolls

n behind it. It was an unmarked car.

onvoy

her arms around herself, shivering. She kept replaying that moment on the stairs. Cle

d to s

weight of the world's hatred, Karen felt her own reality fracturing. Had she push

.

r palms agains

ding roads of the private cemetery in Westchester. The trees

ar st

ped rain into the backseat, so

arge black umbrella, but he didn't off

t," he

heels sank immediately. The cold r

rd the gathering of

knees,"

ater dripping from her

d, his voice dropping to a terrifying whi

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife
The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife
“My husband stood by the window of his Manhattan office, his silhouette cutting through the storm like a blade. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the divorce papers onto the desk, his voice a cold baritone. "Sign it," Isaiah commanded, "or your brother's dialysis treatment ends today." He believed the lie that I had pushed his pregnant mistress down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage. To save my dying brother, I signed the confession and accepted the role of a murderer, trading my freedom for a life of disgrace. At the funeral, Isaiah forced me to crawl on my knees through the freezing mud to the grave while a mob of mourners spat on me and cursed my name. When I went to prison, his influence followed me into the showers, where inmates told me the King wanted me to "remember my crime" before they used rusty shears to hack off my finger. Five years later, I was a ghost living in a damp basement with the son Isaiah never knew I had, hiding my mangled hand under a leather glove. When he eventually tracked us down, he didn't show mercy; he tore my son from my arms, calling me an unfit monster and swearing I would rot in a cage. I couldn't understand how the man I once loved could look at my broken body and see only a criminal, never realizing that every scar I carried was a gift from his own hatred. As he walked away with my child, I swallowed a bottle of pills to end the nightmare, leaving Isaiah to rip the glove from my hand and discover the mangled truth just as my eyes finally closed.”