The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire Heiress
On the anniversary of her son's death, Audrey stood in the freezing cemetery for two hours, waiting for her husband.
Instead, his best friend showed up, claiming her husband was tied up with their daughter's emergency. But on her way home, Audrey caught sight of her husband, their daughter Willow, and another woman walking together.
She followed them to a luxury apartment that perfectly replicated her and her husband's humble first home.
Through a crack in the door, she watched her husband passionately kiss the woman.
She watched his best friend hand the mistress expensive gifts.
And she watched her own daughter happily eat cake and say, "Thank you, Mommy Kelsey."
When Audrey returned to her empty mansion, her daughter threw a massive tantrum, screaming that she wished Kelsey was her real mom.
The cruelest part was realizing the mistress was using Audrey's joint credit card to buy Willow's affection.
Her husband, her daughter, and her trusted friend had formed a flawless circle of betrayal. They were playing a happy family while she mourned her dead child alone. She had signed a brutal prenuptial agreement giving up everything for love, only to be treated like a pathetic joke.
But they didn't know the quiet, accommodating housewife was actually the hidden heir to the thirty-billion-dollar Carlisle empire.
Audrey left her diamond ring on the counter alongside a divorce settlement, activated her inheritance, and walked out.
"First step," she told her proxy. "We bleed his stock dry, and we dismantle his legacy piece by piece."
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Chapter 10
The atmosphere inside the top-floor boardroom of Christian Corp was suffocating.
Colton Christian sat at the head of the massive mahogany table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished wood. Ten senior executives sat rigidly in their chairs, presenting the final logistics for the upcoming annual charity gala-an event on par with the Met Gala, crucial for the firm's public image.
Outside the glass walls of the boardroom, in the executive bullpen, Colton's chief assistant, Elliot Hayes, was staring at his dual monitors.
A notification popped up. An email marked with high-priority red flags had just arrived from Audrey Bishop's internal corporate account.
The subject line read: Immediate Resignation and Sponsorship Revocation.
Elliot frowned. He clicked the email open. His eyes scanned the text rapidly.
Within three seconds, all the blood drained from Elliot's face. His hands began to shake over the keyboard.
Audrey wasn't just resigning from her unpaid role as the head of the Christian Charity Foundation. The email explicitly stated that she was legally revoking the verbal agreements she had secured with the gala's three largest corporate sponsors-sponsors that accounted for forty percent of the event's funding.
Attached to the bottom of the email was an automated data-export receipt. It confirmed that Audrey had utilized her administrative access to legally export the entirety of the foundation's primary contact database to a secure, private offshore server. The email concluded with a chillingly formal declaration: "As I am no longer affiliated with Christian Corp, all proprietary relationships, sponsor contacts, and goodwill assets I personally cultivated will remain exclusively in my possession until our divorce settlement is finalized to my exact specifications."
Elliot grabbed the printed copy of the email off the tray. He didn't bother knocking. He shoved the heavy glass door of the boardroom open and practically ran inside.
Colton stopped mid-sentence. He glared at Elliot, his jaw tightening with fury at the interruption.
"What the hell are you doing, Elliot?" Colton snapped.
Elliot didn't speak. He was breathing too hard. He walked straight to the head of the table and slid the piece of paper in front of Colton.
Colton glanced at the subject line. A sneer curled his lip.
"She's throwing a tantrum," Colton muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "Ignore it. She's just trying to get my attention because I didn't go home last night."
"Sir," Elliot choked out, his voice trembling. "Look at the second paragraph. The sponsors."
Colton's eyes dropped down the page. He read the names of the three multinational conglomerates that had just pulled their funding.
His sneer vanished. His pupils dilated. He snatched the paper off the table, gripping it so hard the edges crumpled.
"Call her," Colton barked, his voice echoing off the glass walls.
He pulled his own cell phone from his pocket and dialed Audrey's number. He pressed the phone to his ear.
"We're sorry, the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service."
Colton froze. The automated voice repeated the message. She hadn't just blocked him. She had killed the phone line entirely.
He slammed the phone down onto the mahogany table. The screen cracked.
"Call the house!" Colton roared at Elliot. "Call Rosa right now!"
Elliot scrambled for his phone and dialed the mansion. The executives around the table sat in terrified silence.
A minute later, Elliot lowered his phone. He looked at Colton, his eyes wide with panic.
"Sir," Elliot whispered. "Rosa says... she says Mrs. Christian left with a suitcase. And there is a divorce settlement on the kitchen counter. Along with her wedding ring."
Colton's chest heaved. A blinding, irrational rage exploded behind his eyes. He stood up so violently his heavy leather chair tipped backward and crashed to the floor. He slammed his fist into the table, the impact rattling the coffee cups.
Ten miles away, deep beneath the streets of the Financial District.
Audrey Bishop sat in a reinforced steel chair inside the Carlisle family's private subterranean vault. The air was cool and smelled of old paper and metal.
Ford Ortega stood beside her. He placed a thick stack of documents onto the steel table.
"This is the final transfer," Ford said, his voice echoing slightly in the vault. "Once you sign this, the thirty-billion-dollar trust is fully activated under your name. You will hold the controlling shares in Carlisle International."
Ford reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy, custom-made solid gold Montblanc fountain pen. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.
Audrey took the pen. The gold was cold against her skin.
She looked down at the document. At the bottom, a line was printed: Sole Legal Heir of Julian Carlisle.
She pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name.
"It is done, Ms. Carlisle," Ford said.
Ford stepped back. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of absolute respect and submission. "What is our next step, Miss Carlisle?" Ford asked, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, subterranean space.
Audrey set the pen down. She stood up and walked toward the thick, bulletproof glass wall that looked out into the secure underground garage, where a fleet of black SUVs waited for her command.
She crossed her arms over her chest. A slow, freezing smile touched the corners of her mouth, entirely devoid of the warmth she had once wasted on Colton Christian.
"First step," Audrey said, her voice ringing out with absolute, terrifying authority. "We acquire Christian Corp's biggest competitor. We bleed his stock dry, and we dismantle his legacy piece by piece." She turned her head, her eyes locking onto Ford's with the predatory gleam of a true Carlisle."
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7.1
I waited a year for my mate, Alpha Justin, to return from the border war. While he was gone, I used my ten-million-dollar dowry to keep his crumbling pack afloat and buy life-saving elixirs for his mother.
But when he finally walked through the door, he reeked of another female's scent.
He brought back Gamma Brenna and a Royal Decree, coldly announcing she would be his "Co-Luna."
His family, who survived entirely on my wealth, immediately turned on me. They mocked me for being a wolfless orphan since my father and brothers were slaughtered defending the kingdom.
"You're just a fragile woman who belongs hidden away," Justin told me.
They demanded I accept this humiliation, step aside for his new warrior mate, and continue funding their luxurious lifestyle. Justin even arrogantly offered to sleep with me just once to give me a pup as a "consolation prize," declaring his heart and body belonged entirely to Brenna.
They thought my ruined pack meant I had no backing. They thought I was a pathetic victim who would cling to their scraps and accept a polluted mate-bond just to avoid being cast out into the woods as a Rogue.
They had no idea I had already visited the Alpha King.
I wasn't going to cry, and I certainly wasn't going to share my mate. I packed up every last cent of my ten million dollars, secured a Royal Severance Decree, and prepared to watch their arrogant pack starve to death.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
7.6
I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart.
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."
8.6
To save my father's failing workshop from ruthless loan sharks, I sold one year of my life.
I signed a fake marriage contract with Cameron Fox, an icy billionaire who needed a wife to pacify his sick grandmother. The rules were strict: it was purely a commercial transaction, with absolutely no physical contact and no emotional attachments.
Soon after, that cold hearted man seemed different to me. Wait, is he pursuing me?
9.5
I joined a brutal wilderness survival reality show, playing the perfect role of a pathetic, uneducated girl from a trailer park.
I needed the five million dollar prize to fund my revenge against the wealthy family that drove my father to his death.
I played everyone flawlessly. I outsmarted the arrogant contestants, ruined a corrupt restaurant owner, and secured enough food to guarantee my absolute victory.
But just as I was dominating the game, a massive black helicopter landed in our camp.
The show's new billionaire sponsor had arrived, and he immediately ordered his tactical guards to confiscate every ounce of food I had earned.
My hard-won advantage was wiped out in seconds. The other contestants cheered, pointing at my empty hands.
"Take that, you greedy bitch!"
But the real nightmare wasn't the stolen food or the sudden rule change. It was the man who stepped out of the chopper.
Glenn Ryan. The ruthless CEO from my past life as an elite heiress.
He took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes locking onto my muddy shoes and frayed flannel shirt with a terrifying, obsessive smirk.
Why was he here? Why did he instantly target me the moment I started winning?
He didn't just know my true identity.
He had bought this entire game just to hunt me down.