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The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 755 | Released on: 13/01/2026

in a small park near the Flatiron District. The w

ch and pulled ou

held the paper down while her right hand flew across the page. Charcoal lines intersected, f

otice the traffic light turn re

purred to a halt

ples. A headache had been throbbing beh

out the win

k. The bare trees. The pige

fro

ell over her shoulder as she leaned over

mmered again

lawyers said she had vanished into the cracks of the city. She wouldn't be sitting

ht turn

he drive

ce rough. He didn't look back

aw the exhaust fumes swirl in the cold air. She f

things. She cou

or with a stolen laptop. It was an ancient brick of a

g?" Karen asked, h

d shut. "Nothing. P

Hoke was a t

ust... l

laptop. The screen flickered to

bar read: I

. Isaiah at galas. Isaiah at groun

Karen w

es were defiant. "I saw him on the

l mirror. He held it up next to the screen, comp

it?" Hoke said.

way. "No! You don't have a

. "Or I look like him. Did he mak

!" Karen

flinch. She immediately dropped to he

ase. Don't look for him. He's dangerous. If

. He didn't cry. He just n

mmy. I wo

lready made a connection. I

temp agency on 42nd Street. They didn't ask f

handing her a slip. "Shopping

n to

. The head was heavy, smelling of old sweat and disinfectant. She wa

to design the interiors of these building

e sale. Through the mesh of the bear's mouth, she watched t

med Serena. Serena looked right through the bea

And for the first ti

Chapter End

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The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife

Rum Runner Romance

“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.”