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Discarded Wife: The Secret Billionaire Heiress Novel Cover

Discarded Wife: The Secret Billionaire Heiress

I spent three years playing the role of a submissive, small-town wife for Evertt Baker, trading my true identity for a quiet life in a Manhattan penthouse. I thought my devotion would be enough to build a real home, but I was just a placeholder in his grand design. The illusion shattered at 2 AM when Evertt walked in smelling of Chanel No. 5-the signature scent of his mistress, Adda. Without a word of apology, he dropped divorce papers on the table, demanding I sign them immediately so he could finally be with the woman he truly loved. He looked at me with pure disgust, flicking a five-million-dollar check toward me as if he were paying off an incompetent employee. He told me it was more money than anyone from my "trailer park" background would ever see and ordered me to hurry because Adda was waiting in the car downstairs. He didn't care that I had spent years nursing him through illness and tolerating his family's insults; he only cared about his own convenience. The sheer arrogance of his payout and the blatant disrespect of bringing his mistress to our home was the final blow. I realized that the man I loved never actually saw me, only the submissive shadow I had forced myself to become. I signed the papers with a fluid scrawl he didn't bother to check, then I fed his millions into the office shredder. I pulled a hidden, encrypted device from a kitchen drawer and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years. "Brother," I said, my voice finally steady. "Come get me. The game is over." Evertt thought he was discarding a penniless nobody, but he was about to find out that he had just declared war on the Stafford empire.
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Chapter 4

The clatter of silverware against china at Le Bernardin was usually a soothing sound, a symphony of high society dining. Today, to Evertt, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"Evertt, you haven't touched your tuna," Adda complained, poking at her own plate. "And you promised this would be a celebration lunch. We have so much to plan for the wedding!"

Evertt swirled his wine, staring into the red depths. "I'm not hungry."

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Adda's voice turned sharp. "Stop it. She's gone. She's probably spending that old man's money right now."

Evertt looked up at Adda. In the harsh daylight pouring through the restaurant windows, her makeup looked thick, settling into the creases of her eyes. Her voice had a grating quality he hadn't noticed before, or perhaps had chosen to ignore. He felt a spike of irritation, but he tamped it down. She was carrying his child-or so she claimed. He was trapped by duty, if not by love.

"I'm not thinking about her," he lied.

Before he could finish his thought, the glass doors of the restaurant opened.

The maître d' bowed lower than Evertt had ever seen him bow. "Mr. Stafford, Ms. Stafford. A pleasure as always."

Evertt froze.

Bradley Stafford walked in, looking like he owned the building. But it was the woman beside him who stopped the room.

Kiley.

She wasn't wearing the glamorous gown from last night. She was wearing a structured white power suit, tailored to within an inch of its life. Her hair, usually pulled back in a messy bun, was blown out in sleek waves. She looked formidable.

She was adjusting Bradley's tie, her fingers moving with practiced familiarity.

"Oh my god," Adda gasped loud enough for half the restaurant to hear. "Is that Kiley? She has no shame! parading her sugar daddy around like that!"

Evertt stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor. Before he could stop himself, he was walking toward them.

He blocked their path to the exit.

"So," Evertt said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "This is what you were in such a hurry for? To play dress-up with your new ATM?"

Bradley stopped. He looked at Evertt with the mild disinterest one might show a buzzing fly. He stepped slightly in front of Kiley, shielding her.

"Excuse me?" Bradley said, his voice dangerously calm.

"Evertt," Kiley said. She stepped out from behind Bradley's protection. Her eyes were cool, detached. "Mr. Baker. Please mind your manners."

Mr. Baker. The formality stung more than a slap.

Adda scurried up beside Evertt, linking her arm through his. "Kiley, honey, we're just concerned. It looks... bad. You know, jumping from one bed to another so fast."

Bradley's eyes shifted to Adda. He looked at her like she was a stain on the carpet. "Who are you? And why are you speaking to us?"

Adda recoiled, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. The sheer weight of Bradley's charisma and authority crushed her petty malice instantly.

"Don't speak to my fiancée like that," Evertt stepped forward, puffed up with indignation. "Kiley, did you marry me just to get close to his circle? Was I just a stepping stone?"

Kiley laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. "Money? You think this is about money? Evertt, do you really think everyone is as spiritually bankrupt as you and your mistress?"

"Don't call her that!" Evertt shouted. "And I want my money back. That settlement-if you were cheating, I can void it!"

Kiley took a step closer to him. She was shorter than him, but in that moment, she seemed to tower over him.

"I shredded your check, Evertt," she said, her voice cutting through the restaurant's hush. "I don't want a dime of your Baker money. And cheating?"

Evertt scoffed, a smirk twisting his lips. "Shredded it? Nice try, Kiley. You expect me to believe you destroyed five million dollars? You're a better actress than I thought." He didn't believe her for a second. It was a bluff, a desperate attempt to save face in front of her new benefactor.

She laughed again, shaking her head. "For three years, I sat in waiting rooms while you held her hand for 'migraines.' I spent my birthdays alone because she had 'panic attacks.' I cooked your meals, I ironed your shirts, I loved you until I was empty. Don't you dare stand there and talk to me about loyalty. You don't know the meaning of the word."

Evertt opened his mouth, but no words came out. The truth of her words hit him like a physical blow. He remembered the lonely nights. He remembered her waiting up.

"Mr. Baker," Bradley stepped in, placing a hand on Kiley's shoulder. "If you approach her again, or if this... person," he gestured vaguely at Adda, "slanders her again, my legal team will be in touch. And trust me, you don't want to go to war with me."

Bradley looked down at Kiley, his expression softening instantly. "Come on, darling. We have better places to be. Keegan is waiting at the estate."

"Yes," Kiley said, turning her back on Evertt. "Let's go home."

Bradley guided her out the door. The valet was already there with the car.

Evertt stood in the entryway of the restaurant, the eyes of the New York elite burning into his back. He felt exposed. He felt foolish.

"Evertt," Adda tugged on his sleeve. "She's so mean now. She's scary."

Evertt looked down at Adda. He pulled his arm away from her grasp, suddenly repulsed by her clinging. "Let's just go," he muttered.

Outside, as the Rolls-Royce pulled away, Evertt felt a cold pit in his stomach. Kiley hadn't just left him. She had ascended. And he was beginning to suspect that he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

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