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The Billionaire's Substitute Wife Demands Divorce

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 817    |    Released on: 09/06/2026

low was the only sign Hartwell had been there. He was already on his morning

ords had played on a lo

ic sub

ror was a portrait of exhaustion, dark circles bruising the skin und

rly row of blue

g that had been hibernating f

er phone and tex

Buy their most expensive si

mediate. Everything o

onse was cur

do toast with a perfectly poached egg. Black coffee steamin

k, brow furrowing. "You look

lt like a trap

. A sharp, unpleasant pang went through her ches

k. "Don't work too

er. For a moment, she allowed herse

gaze the night before. The way her body

rrived at her private practice on Park Avenu

logetic. Vibrant and alive. The silk was heavier than her blue ones, the

ing her blue r

sn't

declarati

eadying breath. Her

tch on his breath. He'd had a dinner meeting with investors. Ellie ha

mirror and slipped

vid, almost shockingly so. There was a gl

ned. Her heart slamm

his suit jacket. He was smiling-a

sto

Wiped clean, as if i

th of magenta silk covering her body. The warmth in his eye

worse th

is voice was low.

. Her own voice sounded brittle, foreign to he

ch step deliberate, heavy. The sheer forc

s closed around the delicate

d disgust. He looked at the robe as if it were filthy. As if it w

e it

held the unyielding force o

spark of defiance flare

in his ja

ience s

ked his hands apart. The sound of tear

aped her lips-s

her body, balled it up, and thr

open the drawer, and took out a cornflo

." His voi

to his study. The solid click of the lock

me back to b

ling. Her eyes were fixed on the shredded magenta

text burned be

voice screamed in he

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The Billionaire's Substitute Wife Demands Divorce
The Billionaire's Substitute Wife Demands Divorce
“I thought I had the perfect marriage with my billionaire husband, Hartwell, who treated me like a priceless artifact, even though he had a strange obsession with me wearing only cornflower blue. That was until an anonymous text called me a "pathetic substitute" for a dead woman, and I broke into his locked attic to uncover the terrifying truth. Under a dusty sheet, I found a life-sized portrait of a woman who looked exactly like me. Her name was Georgia Freeman, his dead lover, and my entire three-year marriage was a meticulously crafted lie. When I tried to rebel by wearing a different color, Hartwell violently tore the clothes off my body in disgust. Even worse, his entire elite family knew the secret all along, secretly mocking me as a clueless stand-in used to keep a ghost's memory alive. I was nothing but a prop to them, a hollow vessel chosen to replace a dead woman, and I couldn't understand why I had to sacrifice my identity for his twisted, obsessive grief. I shredded every blue silk gown he forced me to wear and threw his million-dollar sapphire down the trash chute. "I want a tubal ligation because I will never bear a substitute child." Watching all the color drain from his suddenly terrified face, I knew the game was over, and I was going to completely destroy his perfect illusion.”