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The Billionaire's Ego: My Ruthless Divorce

The Billionaire's Ego: My Ruthless Divorce

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Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 1204    |    Released on: 15/01/2026

nsel had described in his letters. The man wearing it turned, his silhouette sharp against the glittering chaos of the Bellagio, and her drugged, hopeful mind filled

ho had taken everything. The first thing she noticed, as a nurse stitched the torn skin of her thigh, was that he never once looke

in Carleigh's eyes. It was the third time the waiter had approached Table 4-the bes

ike me to clear this? Perha

s pristine, uncrushed by the weight of the man who was supposed to be sitting there. Three years. One t

shake. It was dry, like dead leaves scrapi

t a call. It was a news alert. She flipped it over. The screen illuminat

n-dollar merger gala. Spotted at Mount Sinai V

s suit jacket off, his white shirt sleeves rolled up. His hand was brushing a stray hair from Blanca's forehead. His expression was etched with a raw, frantic wor

made inhaling difficult. But she didn't cry. The tears had dried up somewhere ar

e pulled a pen from her clutch-a Montblanc Kenton had given her as a "corporate gift" for Ch

ached for he

istance that felt like a final, desperate cling. She placed it squarely in the center

d dress, grabbed her clutch, and walked out. She didn'

ually, Hopkins, the family driver, would be idling at the curb. Tonight, she hadn't called

backseat smelled of stale pin

e to,

Hotel," Car

rectangle Kenton had given her on their wedding day. "For household expense

ever set

eel. The lobby smelled of expensive lilies and old money. She approached the front desk. The manager, a

f an inch. "Mrs. Parker. Welco

aza Suite," Carleigh

cost forty thousand dollars a ni

the morning. And send up a bottle of your vintage Do

chine beepe

in before her father gambled it away. Carleigh kicked off her heels near the door

'. Inside were PDF files of high-resolution scans-before and after photos of 17th-century oil paintings. The work of "Vee." They were mostl

Word d

tition for Dissol

e wireless printer in the suite's office hummed to l

ervice waiter had just delivered. She took a sip. It tasted

tated for months on what to write. Irreconcilable differences was too soft. Adulte

the three years of cold shoulders, the nights he slept in the gue

tive smile tou

he pen hard i

been unable or unwilling to perform marital duties, citing irreversible er

izing truth. But it was the only thing that would hurt a man lik

capped

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The Billionaire's Ego: My Ruthless Divorce
The Billionaire's Ego: My Ruthless Divorce
“I had been a "decoration piece" for Kenton Parker for three years, a contract wife bought to pay off my father's gambling debts. I lived in a cold penthouse, making his coffee and answering his phones, while he treated me with the clinical indifference of a stranger. On our third anniversary, I waited alone at the city's most exclusive restaurant, only to see a news alert flash on my phone. Kenton wasn't coming. He was caught on camera at a hospital, looking at his "friend," ballerina Blanca Donovan, with a raw, frantic worry he had never once shown me, not even when I fell down a flight of stairs. I finally snapped and filed for divorce, citing his "irreversible erectile dysfunction" just to destroy his massive ego. I thought I was free, but Kenton retaliated with a cruelty that left me breathless. He froze every bank account I owned and had his secretary smash the last photo I had of my mother. He reminded me of the five-million-dollar penalty in my contract-money I didn't have. "You don't get to leave until I say so," he roared, dragging me into his office. He used my father's life as a leash, forcing me to play the part of a doting wife at his family's Hamptons estate to please his sick mother. He wanted to starve me out until I crawled back to his side. I couldn't understand how a man could be so heartless. He didn't want my heart, yet he refused to let me go, treating my life like a line item in a corporate merger. He wanted to keep me as his prisoner while he spent his nights with another woman. But Kenton made one fatal mistake. He thought I was just a broke, submissive secretary with nowhere to turn. He didn't know that I was "Vee," a world-renowned art restorer with a secret legacy and a six-figure commission waiting for me. As we shared a bed in the Hamptons and he pulled me against his chest, whispering that I was "his," I didn't feel comfort. I felt the cold, hard spark of a woman who was finally ready to burn his contract to the ground.”