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 8
The private VIP lounge at the Plaza Hotel was dimly lit, smelling of expensive cigars and aged leather.
Audrey sat on a plush velvet sofa. A cup of black coffee sat on the low glass table in front of her, completely cold. Next to the cup rested a massive stack of legal documents-the Carlisle family trust files Ford Ortega had just walked her through.
Outside the heavy velvet curtains, the lights of Manhattan began to flicker on as dusk settled over the city.
Her phone, resting on top of the legal files, suddenly vibrated. The screen lit up with Colton's name.
Audrey picked up the cold coffee, took a slow sip, and swiped the screen to answer.
"Audrey," Colton's voice came through the speaker. It wasn't angry this time. It was smooth, practiced, and laced with a fake, placating warmth.
"Yes," Audrey replied, her voice entirely flat.
"Listen, the board meeting ran incredibly late," Colton lied effortlessly. "We have a crisis with the European merger. I'm going to have to sleep at the office tonight. I won't be coming back to Long Island."
Audrey traced the rim of her coffee cup with her index finger. "I see."
"And Willow called me," Colton added quickly, his tone shifting to sound like a responsible father. "She said she's going to a friend's house for a sleepover tonight. So the house will be empty. Don't wait up."
Audrey stared at the wall opposite her. The sheer audacity of the lie didn't even make her angry anymore. It just bored her.
"Okay," Audrey said. Just one word.
Colton paused. He was clearly expecting a fight, a tearful plea for him to come home, or at least a sigh of disappointment. Her total lack of emotional response seemed to throw him off balance for a fraction of a second.
"Right. Goodnight then," he muttered, and abruptly ended the call.
The moment the screen went black, a notification chimed.
A new email had arrived in her encrypted inbox. The sender was Gage Gay, the high-end private investigator she had hired online the night before.
Audrey opened the email. It contained a single, heavy ZIP file.
She tapped the screen to extract the contents. A grid of high-resolution photographs populated her screen.
The metadata stamped on the photos showed they had been taken just three hours ago. The location was the Wollman Rink in Central Park.
Audrey clicked on the first image.
It was a crystal-clear shot of Colton, Kelsey, and Willow. They were all wearing matching white and silver winter coats.
She swiped to the next photo. Colton was kneeling on the rubber matting near the ice, his head bowed as he carefully tied the laces of Kelsey's white figure skates. His posture was attentive, almost reverent.
She swiped again. Willow was standing a few feet away, holding up a smartphone, taking a picture of Colton and Kelsey smiling at each other.
The final photo in the sequence showed the three of them walking away from the rink, heading back toward the Upper East Side. Colton was holding Kelsey's hand. Willow was holding Kelsey's other hand.
They looked like a perfect, wealthy Manhattan family enjoying a winter afternoon.
Audrey's face remained completely expressionless. She selected all the photos and uploaded them to three separate, secure cloud servers.
She set the phone down and opened her leather briefcase. She pulled out the revised divorce agreement she had finalized that morning.
This wasn't the standard document. She had added specific clauses demanding full, sole physical and legal custody of Willow, citing moral turpitude. She had also invoked the hidden fault clause from the prenup, demanding fifty percent of Colton's unvested stock options and hidden offshore accounts.
She pulled a heavy Montblanc pen from her pocket. She didn't read the document again. She flipped directly to the last page.
She pressed the nib of the pen against the thick paper and signed Audrey Bishop in sharp, aggressive strokes.
There was no hesitation. Her hand didn't shake.
She took the signed document and slid it into a thick brown manila envelope. She sealed the clasp.
She stood up, gathered the Carlisle trust documents, and locked them inside the heavy steel safe hidden behind a painting in the lounge.
Audrey grabbed her coat and walked out of the private room.
Ford Ortega was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He was wearing a sharp black suit, his dark eyes scanning her face as she approached.
He pushed himself off the wall. "Is it done?" he asked, his voice low.
Audrey nodded. She held out the manila envelope.
"Take this," Audrey said. "Have one of your people deliver it to the Long Island estate tonight. Leave it right in the center of the kitchen island."
Ford took the envelope, feeling the weight of the legal documents inside. A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips.
"Consider it done," Ford said.
Audrey walked past him toward the elevator. Tomorrow morning, the bomb would detonate.
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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.