Divorce Me? The Despised Wife Is The Apex Boss

Chapter 7

Word Count: 766 | Released on: Today at 16:28

nica)

s's face twisted into sheer panic, cold

ward Fletcher at the edge of the crowd, frantic

o Brant's boat after lying about his promotion, he sto

manager of the Premier Rideshare Alliance, whatever she

ed her, so she faked evidence to

hing for them, the tide of opin

ingers at me and hurling vicious insults abo

these self-proclaimed elites act like brainl

just fired over the phone, yet you're still here committin

talking nonsense! I was promoted! Y

our bruised, limping bodyguards walked in, supporting a man whose

the center of the circle, saw

ound gangsters at the gas station to break my arm! Curtis, you have to

nced I was a violent criminal tied to street gangs, sev

black batons closed in from all sides,

a winner's smile. "Domenica, since you refuse a toast only

lying mouth crooked myself!" Brant s

first, reaching out rough hands to gra

I slipped under their reach, clamped my hands onto both

oud crack. Both men rolled their eyes bac

ike a ghost, every strike of my palms and elbows was followe

rained security guards lay sprawled across

as if I were a monster, barely daring to breathe, while

iedly smoothed the cuffs of my trench coat,

ver the trembling elites before stop

e the right to stand here?" My voice

ck privilege card embossed with a dark gold crest

Domenica Justice, the new CEO o

en, an uproar of laughter ten times lou

the CEO, then I'm the President of the United States!"

om the street outside. Ten bulletproof black Maybachs glided up to the hote

Chapter End

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Divorce Me? The Despised Wife Is The Apex Boss

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“For three years, I played the meek, penniless housewife to fulfill my family's strict succession trial, swallowing every ounce of disgust from my husband Fleming and the Joyce family. But my patience evaporated the day I pushed open Fleming's office door and caught him half-undressed on his desk, pinned beneath Bart, the male investor he had been praising all week. Instead of panicking, they mocked my cheap clothes and called me a bottom-feeding parasite. When I demanded a divorce and packed my bags, Fleming and his grandmother flipped the script. They publicly framed me for cheating and stealing family antiques. They pulled strings to get me fired from my ride-share job, blacklisted me across the city, and even sent a dozen thugs to break my legs, vowing to make me grovel in the gutter. I looked at this family of arrogant leeches, finding their threats absolutely laughable. They didn't know that for the past three years, my secret income was the only thing keeping their outer businesses from going bankrupt. As my encrypted phone lit up, my family butler's voice came through to announce that my three-year deadline was officially up. "Contact the legal department. Have them draw up the divorce papers." I threw my cheap plastic phone case into the trash and put on the dark-gold signet ring of the Kemp family heir. It was time for the real CEO of Sterling Gate Holdings to make them spit out everything they owed.”