Divorce Make Me A Tycoon, My Ex Meet His Doom
When Christine Woods collapses into a hospital bed from unbearable pain, her husband's response is colder than the IV dripping into her veins: "Stop pretending to be sick."
That same night, a single social media post shatters her marriage--Neil Caffery, intimate with the first love he once claimed was dead.
Three years of marriage. Three years of neglect, indifference, and quiet self-deception.
In that moment, Christine finally understands the truth: she was never a wife--only a substitute.
Not wanting to live as a substitute any longer, she divorced her husband.
After divorce, Christine started her new life, achieving success both in career and love.
Seeing her so radiant and successful, her scumbag husband beg her to come back.
"Hazel, I know I was wrong. Please come back."
However, before Christine could respond, the country's richest man kicked him and held Christine's waist, "Who are you? Stop pestering my wife!"
His voice was cold, his presence imposing.
Christine looked at him and snorted, "When did I agree to marry you?"
"Baby, are you still angry about last night? I promise, I will be gentle next time." The man said, looking at her playfully.
Christine hit his chest playfully, her face turning red.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 1
Angel Private Hospital
The pain came in waves.
Christine Woods lay on the narrow hospital bed, clutching her stomach with one hand, cold sweat trickling down her forehead. Her face was pale as paper, and her lips were cracked from dryness.
The IV drip had been trickling by her bedside for quite a while now, yet she felt no relief whatsoever.
She stared at the chat window with Neil Caffrey.
This was the message she had sent him at 10 p.m. last night. She hadn't received his reply until she passed out from vomiting and was rushed to the hospital by the butler.
Stop faking it. I have a business dinner tonight and won't be coming back.
Christine looked at the message on the screen, a faint pang of bitterness rising in her heart.
Neil seemed to have grown accustomed to ignoring her messages. She knew he had a business dinner yesterday, but the stomach cramps had been unbearable. she couldn't stop herself from sending that message.
For the past three years of their marriage, whenever his business dinners ran late, he would simply sleep at the office.
But she was sick now. why could he remain so indifferent and unmoved?
She didn't realize when it happened, but tears began streaming down her cheeks.
Just as she was about to lock the screen, a sudden notification chimed from her IG app. It was from her sister-in-law, Sofia Caffrey. She had posted something.
Christine hesitated for half a second before tapping it. A photo immediately filled her screen.
It was a picture of her husband, Neil, hugging another woman, chatting and laughing under the warm lights of a restaurant. The woman rested her head on Neil's shoulder, and he gazed at her with eyes full of love.
They looked like a couple deeply in love.
Christine's heart skipped a beat.
Was this what he meant by "business dinner"?
And the caption Sofia posted stung like a knife.
I am so happy! I never thought Vivian was still alive! Look at my brother-he was smiling from ear to ear. I'm so happy for them.
The timestamp glowed mercilessly at the top of the post.
It was exactly the same time she had been rushed into the emergency room, begging her husband to come and help her.
Christine was very familiar with that woman.
It was none other than Vivian Clark-Neil's first love, who was supposed to be dead.
They had dated for four years before breaking up. After Vivian left to study overseas, news of her sudden death had reached them.
From then on, her name became Neil's untouchable sore spot.
So she was still alive after all.
Christine's throat tightened. Had they been together all night?
Comments flooded in from their friends. No one seemed to care whether Christine could see this post.
Oh my God, Vivian is alive! Thank goodness! The two of them sitting together is just what I needed.
The most enviable couple at our university back then have finally reunited! Your brother's profile picture is still that blue cat he and Vivian raised together.
Haven't you noticed? That person's eyes look just like Vivian's.
That person? Were they talking about her?
Christine clutched her phone tightly, her fingers going numb.
Her chest constricted as a sharp pain pierced her heart, as if something were gripping it violently. The truth slammed into her without mercy-he hadn't just ignored her.
He had lied.
Before she could even think, she had already pressed the call button.
After several rings, the other party finally picked up.
"What is it?" The magnetic voice carried a hint of impatience.
"Where are you?" Christine asked, her throat tight.
"At the office. Christine, it's six in the morning. I didn't get to bed until three last night after a business dinner. Could you give me a break?"
"Which client?" she asked, clinging to a sliver of hope. "Do I know them?"
The man on the other end paused briefly before replying. "You don't know them. They're all men."
He caught on, his tone growing even more impatient. "Christine, are you interrogating me?"
The more you try to hide it, the more obvious it becomes.
Christine clenched her phone as something inside her finally shattered.
Disappointment, frustration, and sorrow flooded her chest, leaving her breathless.
"Enough!" Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Her voice trembled as she finally asked the question she'd been holding back.
"So. am I just her stand-in?"
Neil froze for a moment before his irritation flared again.
"What nonsense are you spouting now? Is it fun to be jealous every single day?"
Christine closed her eyes.
"Neil, it's over between us."
"Let's get a divorce."
Then she hung up.
Neil stared at the disconnected call in disbelief, rubbing his eyes to make sure the name on the screen really was Christine.
Divorce?
How could she propose a divorce?
Everyone knew Christine was madly in love with him!
And on top of that, the Woods family had gone bankrupt. How could she bear to leave him?
Neil naturally assumed he had misheard.
He had only fallen asleep at three in the morning, and with a meeting at ten, he had just five hours left to rest. He locked his screen decisively, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep again.
*****
In truth, Christine's demand for divorce wasn't an impulsive outburst. The thought had been circling her mind for a long time.
When her father was alive, he had once told her,
"Christine, your father can give you wealth and status. All I ask is that your future husband treats you as well as I have."
But Dad, did you ever realize how incredibly difficult it is to find a man who loves me the way you did?
Tears streamed silently down her face.
While Neil was drowning in grief over Vivian's death, Christine had reached out to him, trying to thaw his heart and help him rebuild. She believed a man who loved deeply was always better than one who was cold and indifferent.
Yet after marrying Neil, she discovered that his deep affection was reserved for only one person.
Three years passed. No matter how hard Christine tried, she couldn't warm that heart. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to keep going.
Ha. As if by fate, the very person he had been longing for had come back to life.
She laughed mockingly.
The buzzing vibration of her phone abruptly pulled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and answered.
"Mom."
"Christine, your brother's tuition for next year needs to be paid. Tell Neil to transfer twenty thousand dollars immediately-his homeroom teacher just called to remind us!"
Christine's glassy eyes flickered slightly.
"Mom, what's the latest deadline?"
There was a moment of stunned silence before her mother's voice rose sharply.
"What do you mean? Is Neil refusing to pay?"
Back when their family was prosperous, the Caffreys had taken advantage of them countless times. How dare he refuse now?
"No," Christine replied flatly.
Ever since her father passed away and the family went bankrupt, her mother still lived extravagantly, sending her younger brother to an international school, desperately trying to prove that-even bankrupt-she remained unchanged.
It was easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but hard to go from extravagance to frugality.
"Mom, I'll contact the homeroom teacher myself. Don't worry about it."
"Then don't forget to renew the tuition promptly-don't let your brother be ridiculed by his classmates!"
Christine hung up, emotions tangled in her chest. But a resolute glint flashed in her eyes.
Her pale fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed a message to a friend.
[Emma, do you know any divorce lawyers?]
You may also like
7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
7.7
On the third anniversary of our marriage, Adrian Griffin had a new face in his passenger seat.
This time, I, Audrey Lawson, didn't storm over to tear them apart. I didn't scream or demand explanations.
I simply went home and poured the dinner I had spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash.
The housekeeper tried to stop me. "Mrs. Griffin, you worked all afternoon on those dishes..."
I wiped my hands, my voice flat. "It's cold. I don't want it anymore."
Not the food. Not the man I had once given up my career to marry.
I took out the divorce papers I had prepared long ago. Without hesitation, I signed my name-slowly, carefully, stroke by stroke.
Then I began packing my things. Clothes. Jewelry.
And the honors that were rightfully mine.
Adrian had no idea that every award-winning design Griffin Group had received in the past five years had come from my hand.
He had built his reputation in the industry on my work.
I dialed a number that had lain dormant for three years.
"Professor, I'm back."
From this day forward, I would reclaim everything that belonged to me.
9.7
For three years, I played the role of a devoted, naive wife to billionaire Conrad Whitney. I hid my true identity and foolishly believed in our fairy tale.
Then he handed me a harsh divorce agreement, ordering me to sign and walk away with absolutely nothing. He was leaving me to marry Cindy, the fragile woman he claimed had saved him from a fire.
He expected me to cry and beg. Instead, he watched coldly as Cindy and her family illegally transferred my father's trust fund. When I confronted them at the hospital, Conrad shielded her, calling me a greedy, toxic viper. He mocked me, completely blind to the fact that Cindy was a fraud. He truly believed I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would be utterly destroyed without his money and status.
I looked at the man I had actually dragged out of that burning debris with my own soot-covered hands. My trauma, my sacrifices, and my love had all been reduced to a joke by his sheer arrogance and a few fake tears from a manipulative liar.
I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed the papers, drugged his wine, and left a crumpled one-dollar bill on his unconscious chest with a sticky note mocking his terrible service.
Then, I picked up my encrypted phone. It was time for the world's top surgeon, Dr. Hades, to return, and for Conrad to finally see the god he had just thrown away.
8.3
Adaline Whitmore becomes the price for her father's betrayal when she is forced to live under the roof of the ruthless billionaire Ronan Frost, the man who lost everything because of her family.
But neither of them knows one truth. She is the same girl who once saved him years ago.
As everything begins to change and secrets come to light, the line between punishment and desire fades. Now Ronan must choose between his need for revenge and the woman quietly stealing his heart.
9.8
When I woke up on the muddy bank of the freezing river, I unlocked a brutal, unfiltered preview of my actual future.
For the past six months, I had been the town's ultimate joke, chasing after a city boy who looked at me like a diseased insect. Everyone thought I jumped into the river because he rejected me.
But the nightmare didn't stop there. In the future I foresaw, my entire family was destroyed. My eldest brother was handcuffed and dragged into a squad car. My second brother died in a pool of blood on the asphalt. My parents passed away from sheer grief and humiliation, and our farm was foreclosed.
Meanwhile, Bart Hawkins—my family's sworn enemy, the boy everyone accused of pushing me, but who actually jumped in to save my life—became a billionaire tech mogul. I ended up starving to death in a damp, moldy basement, completely alone.
I finally understood that I was just a pathetic, tragic side character meant to drag my family into hell. My own sister-in-law, Felicie, had been stealing our food and money, laughing at my misery behind my back.
But right now, my mother was still alive, my brothers were safe, and the farm was ours.
When Felicie walked into my bedroom, playing the devoted sister-in-law with a bowl of clear, meatless broth while a stolen roasted chicken thigh leaked grease through her apron pocket, I didn't play along.
"What's in your pocket, Felicie?"
This time, I was going to tear that horrific future apart with my bare hands.
9.0
Carli followed an anonymous text to a dark garage, only to find her fiancé of seven years tangled with another woman in his Porsche.
She smashed his window, threw her engagement ring at his face, and walked away.
But the betrayal didn't stop there. Her own family sided with the cheater. Her father slapped her across the face so hard she bled, demanding she hand over her late aunt's trust fund.
"If you don't do exactly as you're told tonight, I will freeze every credit card in your name," her father roared.
Forced to attend the exclusive Gutierrez family gala, Carli watched her ex-fiancé parade his cheap mistress to humiliate her, while her stepsister tried to publicly ruin her.
Suddenly, a violent screech echoed as the massive crystal chandelier above them snapped from the ceiling.
In a split second of pure instinct, Vaughn shoved his mistress to safety and threw himself to the ground, completely abandoning Carli to be crushed.
Staring up at the plummeting glass, Carli felt the crushing reality that her entire life had been surrounded by monsters.
But the fatal impact never came.
A massive force yanked her into a hard chest, shielding her body entirely from the explosive shrapnel.
Carli opened her eyes to find Fletcher Gutierrez—the ruthless billionaire king of Wall Street and the masked stranger from her reckless one-night stand—bleeding heavily over her.
Feeling his warm blood on her hands, Carli knew the game had just changed.