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 5
Christine hadn't returned home these past few days, staying at the hospital to recuperate.
Restoring her health and lifting her spirits were her priorities now. After each meal, she would go downstairs to bask in the sunlight for a while.
"Christine? So you're here!"
She looked up in confusion and met Sofia's gloating expression. Christine stared at her, puzzled as to why Sofia would come all the way to the hospital just to find her.
"You saw everything that day, didn't you?"
Christine raised an eyebrow slightly. "And?"
"Let me tell you this-my brother will dump you soon. If you know what's good for you, leave now. Save yourself the embarrassment later."
Without a flicker of emotion, Christine opened the voice recorder on her phone. "Say that again."
Sofia sneered. "Scared, huh? I said my brother will dump you soon. If you know what's good for you, make room for Vivian. She and my brother are true love!"
Christine watched her calmly, deliberately baiting her. "How do you prove they're true love? Does that mean Neil and I aren't?"
Sofia was so infuriated by Christine's tone that she burst out laughing. She pulled out her phone, opened her photo gallery, and shoved it right in Christine's face.
"See? Look how sweetly Neil smiled when Vivian kissed him!"
Christine's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see. But I don't see your brother smiling sweetly. Send it to me so I can zoom in and take a closer look."
Sofia had no idea she'd walked straight into a trap. "Fine, I'll send it!"
She sent Christine every single photo-the cup-sharing toast, the cheek kiss, the arm-around-the-shoulder shot.
Then she gloated triumphantly, "Well? See that? Christine, has Neil ever looked at you like that? Don't think I don't know what's going on. You've been married for three years, and he hasn't touched you once!"
"That's hilarious," Christine replied lightly. "If a man won't even touch you when you're sleeping in the same bed, how could that be true love?"
Christine lifted her gaze from the phone to Sofia's smug face, her lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.
"A rotten cucumber isn't worth pitying, is it?"
"You!" Sofia stomped her foot in fury. "You're the rotten one!"
"Alright. I've received proof of the deep affection between Neil and Vivian. My stomach hurts now, so you can leave."
"Hmph! Fine, I'll leave. Christine, just wait until my brother dumps you!"
*****
Christine stared at the photos and recordings saved on her phone, then immediately hailed a cab to Stone & Sterling Law Firm.
"Attorney Thompson, do you think this evidence is sufficient?"
Henry hadn't expected Christine to move so quickly. "It's sufficient."
"List all the assets under your husband's name. Until we sort things out, don't provoke him into filing for divorce-we don't want him catching on to our plans."
"Understood."
"Oh, Attorney Thompson," Christine suddenly remembered something. "The day before yesterday, he asked me to accompany him to a private dinner. I had him transfer me 50,000 dollars, with a note saying it was a voluntary gift. Is that acceptable?"
"."
This woman was surprisingly sharp.
"It's acceptable," he replied, his tone turning serious.
After seeing Christine off, Henry dialed a number.
"She just left. You missed her."
Edward: "?"
"I had my brother bid on that plot at Green Lake," Edward said coldly.
Henry was furious. He knew full well that his family had been eyeing that plot first.
"Dude, you missed your chance. Why are you blaming me?"
"I've got some useful intel for you," Henry said. "Your beloved will be attending the private banquet the Watson family is hosting this weekend."
Edward replied calmly, "Got it. I'll be there on time."
Neil waited five whole days, but Christine never came home.
She seemed determined to make it clear that the divorce was a done deal, which greatly annoyed him.
With a cold expression, he sent her a message:
Don't forget tonight's private dinner.
The reply came swiftly-a simple OK emoji-which instantly silenced him.
Neil found himself increasingly unable to read Christine.
Was she playing hard to get, or was she genuinely intent on divorcing him?
*****
Heavenly Pavilion
The waiter asked politely, "Sir, may I see your invitation?"
Neil's face darkened with impatience. "Do you know Christine? She used to visit the Watson family often. Christine is my wife. I'll go in first-she'll be here shortly."
The attendant merely smiled. "I'm sorry, sir. This is a private banquet. Without an invitation, entry is not permitted."
"You-!"
Not wanting to argue with a waiter at the entrance, Neil stepped aside and kept glancing at his watch.
Sofia felt embarrassed too, with so many people staring. The cool breeze messed up her carefully styled hair as she tugged at Neil's sleeve.
"Brother, when is Christine coming?"
She hadn't forgotten her mother's mission-tonight, she was determined to dazzle the crowd with her beauty.
Tonight, both siblings shared the same target: the man named Edward Robinson.
Already in a foul mood, Neil grew even more irritated by Sofia's nagging. "I don't know. Why don't you call Christine and urge her?"
Sofia pouted. Ask that woman for help? In her dreams.
Fifteen minutes later, Christine finally stepped out of her black sedan, her stiletto heels clicking steadily as she walked with deliberate grace.
The man whose expression had been unpleasant moments earlier now stared in astonishment.
Christine wore a black, high-waisted fishtail gown. Her graceful figure, slender waist, and high-slit skirt hinted at her long, fair legs.
Neil's gaze lingered on the faint curve beneath her delicate collarbone. His Adam's apple rolled slightly.
"You're here."
Christine narrowed her moist, beautiful eyes. "I don't think I'm late, am I?"
"Of course you're late!" Sofia snapped. "Do you know how long my brother and I waited for you? A full fifteen minutes!"
Christine scoffed coldly, not sparing Sofia a glance.
Neil patted Sofia's shoulder. Now was not the time to provoke Christine.
"It's fine. I arrived early. Let's go inside."
He gallantly offered his arm. Christine calmly pulled a pair of lace gloves from her bag and slipped them on before taking it, smiling sweetly.
"Let's go."
She'd bought the gloves specifically yesterday, intending to discard them after today. Though it felt wasteful, who could blame her? They would be touching a man she considered unclean.
The faint stirrings in Neil's heart vanished instantly.
At the entrance, Christine presented the invitation. The attendant glanced at it.
"Miss Woods, please come in."
Just as Neil and Sofia were about to follow, they were stopped.
"I'm sorry, sir and madam," the attendant said politely, "but the invitation only lists Miss Woods. Only she may enter."
Neil's composure finally cracked. Ignoring the mocking glances around him, he growled through clenched teeth, "She's my wife!"
"I'm sorry, sir. This puts us in a difficult position."
Christine fought back a smile and shrugged casually.
"No worries. I'll go in first. You two." She lowered her voice, offering sincere advice. "How about sneaking in later when no one's looking?"
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.