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Ex-Wife's Revenge: I Marry My Best Friend
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Ex-Wife's Revenge: I Marry My Best Friend

After dying alone while her ex-husband Timothy and his mistress Selina built an empire on her misery, Rosalie is reborn on the night of their disastrous anniversary dinner. Instead of the emotional breakdown that led to her ruin, she remains calm and introduces her own best friend, Calvin Solt. When Calvin hints at an intimate history between them, Timothy’s composure shatters. Rosalie is no longer the victim; she is ready to reclaim her dignity and find true love elsewhere.
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Chapter 3

I had only just stepped out the front door when my phone rang with a call from Emma Kinsley, my mother-in-law.

I answered my phone, but before I could say anything, Emma's shrill voice was already screaming over the line.

"Rosalie Quinton, you sure have some nerve! How dare you cause a scene at your wedding anniversary party! You've thoroughly humiliated the Yance family!

"I'm warning you, you'd better immediately apologize to Selina, then get the hell back here and admit your mistakes to Tim! The Yance family refuses to acknowledge a shameless, promiscuous woman like you as our daughter-in-law!"

I couldn't help but feel rather amused at how self-righteously she was lecturing me.

Once she had exhausted herself from scolding me and paused to catch her breath, I finally spoke, my tone indifferent.

"Are you done? Timothy and I are no longer together."

Emma was momentarily shocked into silence, but then she exploded into even louder shrieking.

"You dare? Rosalie Quinton, who do you think you are? You're nothing without the Yance family! Where will you find any clients for that lousy studio of yours? I'll ensure that you'll never be able to continue working in the industry!"

Instead of giving her the chance to yell at me, I simply hung up.

However, the Yance family's revenge came a lot quicker than I had expected.

In just a few hours, all of my studio's business collaborators called to terminate their contracts. Even some prospective clients with whom negotiations had been progressing well suddenly cut off all contact with us.

Shortly after that, rumors started to circulate within the industry about how I had faked my craftsmanship, that the jewelry I restored just looked good on the surface but was actually poorly repaired underneath.

Everyone loved kicking someone who was already down, and rumors were a terrifying thing.

My phone practically rang non-stop, with everyone calling to demand an explanation or to cancel their order.

At that moment, a chime sounded, indicating that I had received a message.

It was from Timothy. "If you come back now and beg me on your knees, I can pretend that nothing happened."

The words dripped with that same arrogant tone he loved to use, as though he were doing me a great favor.

I stared at the message for a moment, then deleted it without any change in my expression. After that, I opened a password-protected file on my laptop.

Inside it was all the evidence I had gathered thus far.

The original record of Selina stealing my unpublished design draft to enter a competition, the internal inspection report proving that Yance Corporation's jewelry manufacturing line had used low-grade gold plating to cut costs, and many more.

All of these were more than enough to really hurt Yance Corporation.

"Timothy, do you and your family genuinely think I'm still the same pushover as I was before?" I thought.

The first thing I did was secure enough money.

I dug out the rare gems I had kept hidden away before my marriage and sent them to an international auction house anonymously. At the same time, I listed the anniversary gift I had originally bought for Timothy on a secondhand luxury marketplace.

Within a day, all the money had been deposited into my bank account.

Once I had settled that matter, I made an international call to an old friend in the International Jewelry Appraisers Association.

"I would like to submit an anonymous report about a rising designer whose award-winning pieces are extremely similar in design to the late master jewelry designer, Yvonne Quinton."

Around this time in my past life, Selina was enjoying great success, as she had used a series of jewelry named "Moon Goddess" to win the Starlight Design Award, the most prestigious award in the nation for designers. Because of this, the media had labelled her as a genius designer.

However, I was the only one who knew that her so-called Moon Goddess series was nothing but plagiarism. It was actually a copy of "Moonlight", the final work of my mother, Yvonne Quinton.

Back then, I had expressed my suspicions, but Timothy had used all the resources and connections at the Yance family's disposal to silence every suspicious voice. He then turned right around to berate me for being so malicious out of jealousy for Selina's talent.

Eventually, Yance Corporation achieved great success because of the Moon Goddess series, causing their share prices to skyrocket. This also became the solid foundation upon which Timothy and Selina later built their business empire.

My late mother's blood, sweat, and tears ended up being just another stepping stone for Selina's rise to glory, becoming the most glamorous jewelry series in Yance Corporation's portfolio.

This time around, I would return everything to its rightful owner.

After ending the call, I returned to the villa Mom used to stay in and made my way to her study. Everything in there had been preserved and looked the same as when she was still alive.

I went to the safe and carefully took out the original drafts for Moonlight, the yellowed papers bearing my mother's lively strokes.

In my past life, I had been so overwhelmed by my grief and despair that I hadn't taken the time to carefully look through these drafts.

However, ever since I got a second chance at life, I have spent my nights recalling every detail I can of my first life, hoping to find something that could allow me to turn the tables. It was during one such night that I recalled Mom once telling me that she had a secret habit she had never told anyone about.

I ran my fingers over the stack of design drafts. There, tucked within the thickest layer of the drafts, was a sheet of letter paper.

It was a handwritten letter, the words written in her distinctively elegant yet strong style.

"The Moonlight series is a seven-piece set of jewelry. To guard against theft, I used a micro-engraving technique to engrave the initials 'YQ' on the hidden inner side of each piece. This shall serve as my proprietary signature mark."

When I finished reading it, my hands, still clutching the letter, shook uncontrollably.

Wiping away my tears, I took a photo of the letter, then sent it anonymously to one of Mom's close friends before her death—Madam Langdon, the foremost authority in the international jewelry appraisal world.

Three days later, Yance Corporation was holding its annual charity auction dinner at the International Jewelry Exhibition Center. It was a high-profile affair, attended by elites from across the city.

The highlight of the night was the final auction piece—the entire jewelry set of Moon Goddess, independently designed and personally crafted by genius designer, Selina Sunther.

The starting bid was one million dollars.

I didn't enter the hall, instead staying in the backstage break room as I watched the livestream.

On the screen, Selina was clad in a custom evening gown. She stood on the stage, tearfully explaining her "creative inspiration". According to her, her inspiration came from her longing for love.

Timothy sat in the first row beneath the stage, gazing up at her passionately.

As the camera cut to a close-up of them, the livestream comments section was filled with all sorts of praise, like how they were soulmates or the perfect couple.

What a perfectly staged drama.

The moment the auction began, the price kept climbing until it reached a whopping 2.8 million dollars.

"2.8 million dollars, going once! 2.8 million dollars, going twice!"

The auctioneer raised his wooden gavel, and as the crowd buzzed at the climax, right as he was about to bring the gavel down…

"Hold it!"

A clear, steady voice called out from beneath the stage.

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