The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Design Comeback

Chapter 3

Word Count: 575 | Released on: 07/05/2026

a renowned auctioneer from Sotheby's too

k. "I read Bloomberg every morning," she

second. He didn't push it, but h

item. It was a vintage Bvlgari eme

d dollars," the auctioneer announced

ed at Dominick. Her eyes were wid

ed up her water glass to hide

letely expressionless. He rai

Then, a wave of shocked gasps and

y three hundred thousand. It was a massive,

ust to look at Aubrey. Her eyes were f

her palms that the skin nearly broke

covering her mouth with her hands. She looked at

his eyes immediately slid diagonally

eye contact. She looked down at her phone,

uests began filtering out t

her shoulders. She just wanted to call her

e museum. A large, solid figure stepped

t cigar between his fingers. He smell

His voice left no room for argum

. "Why? Is Veronica's van no

His dress shoes clicked heav

wn at her. His voice was ice. "Do you want tomorrow's New Yor

knew the rules of her family's trust f

ing. She stepped around him and w

together. A blinding wall of camer

t. He pulled her flush against his side, playi

ht through the velvet of her dr

stretch Lincoln. Aubrey practically dove i

The heavy door slammed shut, instant

Chapter End

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The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Design Comeback

Piao Guo Billionaires

“I gave up my future as a top design graduate to play the perfect trophy wife for Wall Street billionaire Dominick Carrillo. But at a high-profile gala, he suddenly returned from his overseas trip three days early, parading a Hollywood actress on his arm. He dropped a million dollars on her charity necklace in front of the entire Manhattan elite, publicly humiliating me. When I confronted him with proof of his lies back at our penthouse, he threw his limitless black card at me like I was a high-priced escort. To punish my defiance, he violently pinned me down, forcing himself on me to assert his absolute control. The next morning, he caught me fixing the terrible architectural sketches for his new boutique hotel project. He coldly locked my designs away in his briefcase without a second glance. "The business world doesn't care about sketches. Just be a good Mrs. Carrillo and max out your credit cards." I stared at the empty room as he left for a hotel, my phone buzzing with mocking texts from other socialites. For three years, I had locked my talent in a golden cage for this marriage, only to be treated like a brainless canary and a disposable line item on his balance sheet. The rules of this marriage were done. I opened my laptop, found a national design competition sponsored by his biggest corporate rival, and hit submit. I didn't apply as Mrs. Carrillo. I applied as Aubrey Middleton.”