Discarded Wife's Billionaire Revenge Unleashed

ut of his Bentley on a deserted road. My crime? The he

ne, only to see him through the glass door, h

cture online with the caption: "Finally b

g me a "social-climbing nobody"

n me, that I would come cra

e in our prenup, the one that would give

pired in

pte

Griff

egan with the scuff of a heel on

ry soft seat, trying to find a position that didn't feel like my insides were being twisted into a knot. In my discomfor

e oppressive silence of the

His eyes, fixed on the winding, empty road ahead, na

re flat, devoid of any emotion e

ain momentarily

look at me. His profile was perfect, like s

nstinctively going to my stomach. "I'm

ed the edge of his patience. "You know how I feel about this car. It's an extens

n and my shoe was an act of blasphemy. My pain, the child we mi

oulder of the deserted country road. We were miles from anywhere, su

the panic rising in my throat, thick and s

was one of pure, unadulterated disgust. As if the very idea of me, of my body's

he said, his voice like ice. He reached across my body, his ex

st my skin. I didn't move. I couldn't. The cramps were i

a flick of his wrist. "Don't m

vel, he slammed the door shut and drove away without a backward glance. The Bentley disappear

d the pain was

my chest as a wave of agony washed over me. I felt a warm gush

nd me, barely conscious and ly

nds and the sharp, antiseptic smell that I had come to associate with heartbreak. A nurse was speaking to me in

h empty space where a sm

or. Adler was there. But he wasn't looking at my room. He was standing with his

ana

his past. Her "old money" family had always looked down on me, on m

d Adler... Adler was stroking her hair. He was murmuring words of comfort to her, his head bent low, his e

already been shattered, brok

on the bedside table. It was a notification fro

ana, taken just moments ago, right outside my hospital room. They were emb

hey belong. Some things are just meant

comments from their

r them! A pe

'd find their way b

y getting rid of that

o dry. He hadn't even waited for me to wake up. He was celebrating his reunion with his old f

prestigious architectural scholarship to marry him, who had endured years of his coldnes

through the glass, his mother' s cruel words burning on my scree

ain, my thumb hovering o

e. The "betrayal clause." If Adler's infidelity was proven within the first five years of our marriage, co

niversary wa

sed down. The

sk of annoyance that quickly morphed into something like performative concern w

with that fake, smooth sympathy he

hand, cutt

rough the phone, crisp and

yes locked on my husband's confused face. "My

t a short, condescending laugh. "Don't be dramatic, Harp

as nothing without him. That I would always come back

e words clear and sharp

o leave. "You'll be b

y parents had warned me about him, and in their last letter before their plane went down, they told m

was going to burn his per

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