Ditch the Billionaire, Own My Better Life!

When Hazel woke again, it was already the next morning.

She slowly opened her eyes. A faint beeping sound from a nearby machine filled the silence, and the sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant told her she was in a hospital.

She tried to sit up, but pain exploded through her body--sharp, tearing pain, as if every bone had been shattered and stitched back together wrong. She let out a low groan and sank weakly against the pillow. Just then, a nurse came in.

"Mrs. Knight, you're awake?" The nurse's voice softened, relief flickering across her face.

"Why...why am I in a hospital?" Hazel's throat felt like sandpaper.

While carefully removing the needle from Hazel's hand, the nurse nodded. "The beach rescue team found you last night. They said you were floating about two hundred meters offshore. You were lucky--they got to you just in time." She hesitated, sighed, then added, "We identified you through your blood type and ID.

Mr. Knight--your husband--has already covered all the expenses. He told us to make sure you received the best care."

The nurse left.

Hazel stared blankly for a moment, her fingers curling tight around the blanket. So Rayan did know she'd been hurt. But he hadn't come. Not even once. Just a phone call, some money, and that was it. Did he even know what kind of terror she'd lived through?

Her phone suddenly buzzed on the bedside table. Hazel reached for it, unlocked the screen--and froze.

Olivia had posted a new photo on Instagram.

In the picture, Rayan was carrying her upstairs in his arms--like a scene from some romantic movie. You couldn't see his face, only his back, but Hazel knew that silhouette anywhere. After three years of marriage, she could recognize him by the way his shoulders moved. That was her husband. The man she'd once believed was hers.

The caption read:

"Twisted my ankle, and someone insisted on carrying me."

Below, the comments flooded in:

"So sweet!"

"Couple goals!"

"Perfect together!"

Hazel's hands trembled. Tears stung her eyes. While she'd been fighting for her life, her husband had been playing lover to another woman.

She wiped her tears away quickly. He wasn't worth it. Not a single drop.

Without hesitation, she called her friend. She didn't explain much--just asked her to prepare divorce papers. Her friend sounded shocked, but Hazel told her she'd explain everything tomorrow and hung up the phone.

****

At evening, Hazel was lying on the hospital bed when the door of the ward opened.

Rayan's assistant, Simon, walked in carrying a fruit basket. "Madam, how are you feeling."

He set it on the table, his tone polite, professional. "The doctor says your injuries are serious. You'll need a few days of rest before you're discharged."

Hazel turned her gaze away from him, her voice weak but steady. "Where's Rayan?"

Simon's smile faltered for a second, then he recovered. "The president knows you're awake." A brief pause. "But he said your decision to swim in a restricted area was highly irresponsible. He...said he doesn't have the patience for your games anymore."

The air in the room froze. Hazel's chest tightened; the pain flared up again.

Simon quickly added, "Please don't take it to heart, madam. The president has been very busy, but he still cares about your condition. He asked me to check that you were safe."

Hazel nodded lightly, her tone almost detached. "I understand. Thank you."

Simon hesitated, wanting to say more--but her expression stopped him. Then Hazel spoke again, her voice calm and faint. She handed him a sealed envelope.

"Give this to Rayan."

Simon blinked. "What is it?"

"He'll know when he opens it." Hazel closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

Simon looked uneasy, but he nodded and quietly left the room.

***

RK Empire Headquarters -- President's Office

Rayan glared at the divorce papers on his desk, his knuckles white. A second later, he slammed them onto the floor.

"How dare she?" His voice was low and dangerous, vibrating like thunder trapped in his chest.

He had just spent a fortune cleaning up that so-called "accident." The police report had stated: 'Mrs. Knight illegally entered a restricted area, violating safety regulations.' The prosecutor's office had even considered filing charges.

He'd paid, negotiated, and canceled a billion-dollar overseas contract to bury the scandal--

And now she'd sent him divorce papers?

His chest tightened, fury and humiliation burning together.

He reached for his phone--then saw it. Her number had been blocked.

Something inside him snapped.

"Fine, Hazel," he muttered, voice like a growl. He kicked his chair over and hurled the phone against the wall, shattering it.

The papers still lay on the floor--crisp, white, official. All it would take was his signature, and three years of marriage would be over.

Rayan Knight.

A man powerful enough to silence entire boards, to make corporate giants kneel--was now standing here, slapped in the face by his own wife. The woman he'd pulled from obscurity into the Knight family's world had been the first to say "enough."

The door opened. Simon stepped in carefully, carrying a cup of coffee. "Sir, your coffee."

Rayan didn't look at him. "She wants a divorce," he said, his tone glacial.

Simon froze. "Madam...she--?"

"I've read the police report," Rayan cut in. "That beach is restricted. She went there on her own. I cleaned up the mess for her, and now she blames me?"

"Sir, maybe Mrs. Foster was--"

"What? Kidnapped by a wave?" Rayan's laugh was sharp, cruel. "Olivia said she drove there alone. With sunscreen and a swimsuit. That's her 'kidnapping story'?"

Simon fell silent.

"She wants to play victim," Rayan said coldly, "then let her. I'll play along."

He took a long sip of coffee, his eyes darkening. "She thinks divorce will scare me. That I'll come running after her."

"Will you, sir?" Simon asked carefully.

"In her dreams." His voice dropped to a lethal calm. "She needs to learn where she stands."

Did Hazel really think she could survive without him? She had no skills, no experience--she'd be lost within a week. The thought only fueled his anger.

"Freeze all her credit cards," he ordered. "Let's see how long she can keep pretending."

Simon's throat tightened, but he nodded and left.

***

That night, when Hazel walked out from the bathroom, a message popped up on her phone.

Notification: Your credit card ending in **** has been frozen.

She stared at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. Rayan always moved fast. But if he thought she couldn't survive without him, he was wrong.

He never really knew her at all.

Fine. If he was so eager to cut her off, she'd make it easy for him.

She blocked his number, put her phone aside on the table, and lay on the bed, ready to have a goodnight sleep. Tomorrow is a big day and she need a lot of energy.