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Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife Novel Cover

Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife

I woke up with a splitting headache in a trashed penthouse, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and discarded Hermes boxes. A quick glance at the morning newspaper confirmed my worst nightmare: I had transmigrated into the novel 'The CEO's Tender Vow'. Worse, I was the villain's vain, useless wife, right at the exact moment his tech empire completely collapsed. The original owner of this body had just attempted suicide because her husband went bankrupt. When my cold, exhausted husband, Alek Holden, walked through the door, he threw a divorce agreement and a bank card with a pitifully low balance onto the kitchen counter. He coldly warned me that his creditors would be at the door any minute. Meanwhile, my toxic ex-boyfriend was already waiting downstairs, publicly mocking Alek's downfall and offering to make me his mistress. In the original plot, taking that money and running with the ex led to a miserable, tragic death. I stared at the thick stack of divorce papers. I knew Alek was the ruthless villain who would eventually claw his way back to power and brutally destroy everyone who abandoned him. There was no way I was going to play the role of the shallow, doomed ex-wife and wait to be crushed. I looked Alek right in the eyes, grabbed the agreement, and ripped it right down the middle until it was nothing but useless shreds. "The marriage vows said for richer or for poorer. I am staying to help you rebuild."
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Chapter 7

Alek pulled his gaze away from the window. "Take me to the temporary law firm. I need to finish the liquidation paperwork to keep up appearances," he ordered Dale.

Half an hour later, Emma pushed open the heavy door to the penthouse. She was holding the cheap, bitter Americano.

The apartment was dead silent. She kicked off her shoes and walked straight to the dining table. She opened the laptop and got back to work.

She took a sip of the bitter coffee. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She translated her past life's marketing campaigns into a believable portfolio for her new identity.

Time slipped by. The sunlight moved across the floor and warmed her feet. She was completely absorbed in the screen.

At twelve-thirty, the electronic lock beeped. Alek walked in carrying his briefcase.

He took off his coat. His eyes immediately searched the room. He found Emma sitting at the table, typing furiously.

The sunlight hit the side of her face. The tiny hairs on her cheek glowed. The face that used to look so calculating now looked entirely peaceful.

Alek stood frozen in the entryway. Her words from the street echoed in his head: I am going to stay by his side and help him rebuild. The words registered, an unexpected variable in his complex equation. He filed the data point away, his suspicion warring with a flicker of morbid curiosity.

He walked quietly toward the table. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. The legs scraped against the floor.

Emma jumped slightly. She looked up from the screen and quickly closed the laptop. She rubbed her wrist. "You're back early."

Alek's eyes dropped to her wrist. He saw the faint red marks where Sterling had grabbed her. His jaw ticked, but he forced his face to remain blank.

He cleared his throat. The freezing edge was gone from his voice. "The lawyers are done for the day."

Emma noticed the shift in his tone. She relaxed her shoulders. "Are you hungry? Do you want lunch?"

Alek wanted to say no, but the sheer exhaustion of the day caught up with him. He unconsciously pressed a hand against his hollow stomach, the physical toll of his fasting undeniable. He rubbed the back of his neck, his rigid posture deflating just a fraction, and nodded.

Emma hid a smile. She stood up and walked to the kitchen. She pulled the leftover bread, bacon, and lettuce from the fridge.

She dropped the bread into the toaster. She threw the bacon into the skillet. Her movements were smooth and practiced.

Alek sat at the table and watched her back. A strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. It felt like coming home.

Ten minutes later, Emma carried two perfect BLT sandwiches to the table.

She slid a plate in front of Alek. She picked up her own sandwich, took a massive bite, and closed her eyes in satisfaction.

Alek picked up his sandwich. He took a bite. The crunch of the toasted bread and the juice of the tomato mixed perfectly. It tasted incredible.

They ate in silence. The heavy, suffocating tension that usually filled the room was gone. The only sound was them chewing.

Halfway through the meal, Alek stopped. He looked at her laptop. "What were you doing on the computer all morning?"

Emma swallowed her food. She looked him right in the eye. "Sending out my resume. I'm trying to get some freelance writing jobs for extra cash."

Alek stopped chewing. He searched her eyes for any sign of a lie. He found nothing but honesty.

He looked down at his plate to hide the storm of emotions in his eyes. "You don't have to do that," he said quietly.

Emma grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. "We are in this together now. I'm not going to sit around and watch you starve."

The blunt words hit Alek hard. He couldn't argue with her logic. A very faint smile touched the corner of his lips.

When they finished eating, Alek stood up. He grabbed both empty plates and walked to the kitchen sink.

Emma stared at him in absolute shock. The billionaire tech mogul, who had never done a chore in his life, was turning on the faucet to wash dishes. She realized right then that their dynamic had permanently shifted.

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