The Jilted Wife's Ruthless Wall Street Return
For three years, Adriene Rodgers gave up her brilliant Wall Street career to be the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Dallin Morales.
But one night, she overheard him talking to his lawyer, a confession that shattered her world.
"Adriene is exactly what I need her to be. A perfect social shield to keep the cameras busy so Elaina can live in peace."
Elaina was his late brother's widow. Dallin coldly admitted that touching his wife made him physically sick, and he only stomached it by closing his eyes and thinking of Elaina.
From that moment, the nightmare escalated. Elaina framed Adriene at every turn—slashing Adriene's beloved dog to death and throwing herself into a pool to play the victim. Dallin blindly believed the widow. He shoved Adriene so hard she cracked her head open on the marble deck, leaving her bleeding on the ground while he tenderly carried Elaina away.
The ultimate betrayal came when Adriene's father went into sudden cardiac failure. Desperate, she begged Dallin for the life-saving hospital funds.
Instead, Dallin ruthlessly froze every single one of her bank accounts.
"Go get on your knees and apologize to Elaina. Do that, and I will unfreeze your cards."
Standing in the freezing rain while Dallin's Rolls-Royce sped off to comfort Elaina's fake panic attack, Adriene's heart finally turned to ice. How could she have wasted three years of devotion on a man who would use her dying father as a bargaining chip for a manipulative parasite?
She didn't shed another tear. After borrowing money to save her father, she secretly signed the divorce papers and left them in a Hermès anniversary box on his desk. Then, she pulled out her old resume and sent it directly to his biggest corporate rivals. The submissive wife was dead, and it was time to burn his empire to the ground.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 5
The afternoon sun hit the surface of the Hamptons estate's heated pool, scattering blinding reflections across the water. Adriene lay on a lounge chair, her eyes closed.
The signed divorce agreement was already locked safely inside a bank vault in Manhattan. For the first time in years, the crushing weight in her chest was gone. She felt light.
The sharp, aggressive click-clack of high heels against the marble deck broke the silence. Adriene didn't move. She knew the sound. Elaina walked over, wearing a bright red bikini, and waved away the two pool attendants.
Elaina stopped right next to Adriene's chair. She looked down, her eyes filled with toxic malice.
"Stay away from me," Adriene said, keeping her eyes shut. "I'm tired of your cheap tricks."
Elaina leaned down. The fragile, victim persona vanished entirely. "He was in my room again last night," Elaina whispered, her voice thick with vulgar pride. "He held me for hours. He told me how much he hates touching you."
Adriene's eyes snapped open. They were sharp and cold. "You really are pathetic," Adriene sneered. "Picking up trash from the gutter and calling it a prize."
The insult hit Elaina's deepest insecurity-her low-class background. Her face twisted into an ugly snarl, the skin around her eyes pulling tight with rage.
Just then, Elaina's eyes flicked to the glass doors leading into the house. Dallin was walking quickly toward the pool, holding his phone to his ear.
A flash of absolute madness crossed Elaina's face. She lunged forward and grabbed Adriene's wrist with a painful grip.
Adriene reacted purely on instinct. She yanked her arm back to break the hold. The force wasn't strong, but Elaina used the momentum. She threw her arms up into the air and violently threw herself backward.
Elaina let out a bloodcurdling scream as she tipped over the edge and crashed into the deep end of the heated pool.
Water exploded into the air. Elaina thrashed wildly, swallowing water and screaming for help, playing the role of a drowning victim perfectly.
The glass doors slammed open. Dallin dropped his phone. His eyes went wide with panic as he saw Elaina sinking. He didn't see the setup; he only saw Adriene pulling her arm back.
A guttural roar ripped from Dallin's throat. He sprinted across the marble deck like a wild animal. Adriene was standing between him and the edge of the pool.
Adriene started to step back to let him pass, but Dallin didn't wait. He didn't even slow down. To save a fraction of a second, he threw his hands out and shoved Adriene with every ounce of his strength.
The force lifted Adriene off her feet. She was thrown backward like a broken doll.
She flew through the air and crashed down hard. Her shoulder and the side of her head slammed heavily against the flat, unyielding surface of the marble deck. Stars exploded violently behind her eyes.
White-hot agony exploded in Adriene's skull. The pain was so intense it paralyzed her lungs. Her vision instantly went black for a terrifying second before swimming back into focus. Warm, thick blood rushed from the gash on her forehead where the skin had split against the stone, pouring down her face and completely blinding her left eye.
At the exact same moment, a massive splash sounded as Dallin dove into the water, fully clothed.
Adriene curled into a tight ball on the hard stone. She clutched her bleeding head, a weak, breathless moan escaping her lips.
In the pool, Dallin grabbed Elaina, who was pretending to be unconscious. He held her tight against his chest, kicking furiously toward the shallow end. His face was a portrait of absolute terror and heartbreak.
He dragged Elaina out of the water. He scooped her into his arms and marched toward the house. He stepped right over Adriene's legs. The cold water dripping from his expensive leather shoes splashed directly onto Adriene's pale, blood-smeared cheek.
Adriene forced her right eye open. Through the red haze of her own blood, she stared at his broad back.
"Dallin..." she gasped, her voice trembling, begging for help.
He didn't stop walking. He didn't even turn his head. "If she dies, I will bury you," he snarled, his voice devoid of any human warmth.
He disappeared down the hallway.
Adriene lay alone on the marble deck. The throbbing in her head matched the frantic beating of her heart. The blood dripped steadily onto the pristine white stone, forming a dark, terrifying puddle. The cold from the marble seeped deep into her bones.
She stared at the blood. And then, she smiled.
Her chest shook as a broken, hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat. A tear mixed with the blood running down her face.
She stopped fighting the pain. She let her body go limp against the cold stone. In that exact moment, the last microscopic shred of hope she had for her marriage burned to ash.
You may also like
8.1
Born into luxury, Hermione Watson-Pierce has always felt like merely a pawn in her parents' ruthless game of power. She learned to suppress her emotions, earning herself the title of the "Ice Queen."
Just then, Aiden Mendes bursts into her life-a charming playboy known for his reckless reputation. Aiden chooses to cope with his inner turmoil through a lavish lifestyle, using his charisma and striking looks to keep others at bay.
A looming threat forces them to face a contracted marriage or risk losing their inheritance. When they first meet, Aiden is struck by an unexpected attraction, as if it were love at first sight. Yet, his notorious reputation precedes him, and Hermione makes no effort to hide her disdain.
As their contractual marriage evolves into a battle of wills, Aiden must work to melt Hermione's icy heart, proving that he is more than what meets the eye. But can he persuade her to rise above her prejudices and bravely pursue love?
7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
8.9
I returned to New York for my welcome-home party, expecting a warm embrace from Edwin, my devoted fiancé of twenty years.
Instead, his first words to me were a cold, public warning to stay away from his new girlfriend, Kacy.
He stood in my family's hotel, shielding a girl I had never even met, and painted me as a vicious, jealous bully.
"She is very sensitive, Kaitlyn. Her background is tough. Please, be gentle with her. Don't upset her."
He humiliated me in front of our entire elite circle, allowing them to mock me as the aggressive, discarded ex while he carried her away like a fragile princess.
For twenty years, I had been his loyal shadow, fixing his mistakes and loving him unconditionally.
I couldn't understand how decades of deep devotion could be instantly erased by a few crocodile tears and a manipulative damsel act.
He was absolutely certain I would throw a tantrum, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his attention.
But he was wrong.
He didn't know that Everett Rowe, a billionaire tech mogul, had been patiently waiting five years to marry me.
He also didn't know that during my three years abroad, I wasn't just studying art—I became "K.B.", the ruthless Wall Street predator who could swallow his family's empire whole.
I calmly pulled out my phone, ignored the mocking whispers around me, and typed a single message to Everett.
"Yes. I'll marry you."
7.1
For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big.
On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe."
Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero."
Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends.
"She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy."
Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder.
I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number.
"Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married."
8.7
I was trapped in a greasy diner by my own mother.
She was forcing me to marry my abusive cousin because he had paid her twenty thousand dollars.
To escape, I used a contract marriage app and begged a complete stranger to marry me at City Hall that very day.
Ethan drove a cheap Ford and wore a plain suit. I thought he was just an ordinary guy needing a fake wife.
When my mother found out, she brought thugs to destroy my flower shop—my only home and livelihood.
To protect Ethan from her endless extortion, I shielded him and screamed that he was bankrupt and drowning in credit card debt.
My mother fled in disgust, and Ethan took me into his apartment for the night.
But out of trauma and habit, I locked my bedroom door, muttering that he must be old and desperate.
He stormed out into the freezing night, leaving me terrified that I had ruined my only lifeline.
I didn't understand why he was so furiously offended, completely unaware that my "broke" husband was actually the most ruthless billionaire in New York, and I had just trampled his massive ego.
The next morning, his face was a mask of ice as he dragged me back to City Hall to annul the marriage and get rid of me.
"Annulment. Now," he demanded.
But the clerk just popped her gum and slid a pink paper across the counter.
"State law changed. Mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period."
8.9
For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire.
Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate.
I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO.
He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family.
"Throw this bitch out into the snow."
He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother.
But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket.
My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me.
Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn.
That cufflink belonged to him.
The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross.
If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life.
But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out.
When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed.
I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.