His Accidental Wife Is A Secret Tycoon

The yellow cab jerked to a stop in front of a peeling, two-story townhouse in Queens. The tires crushed a pile of dead brown leaves.

Jaden pushed the door open and threw a crumpled hundred-dollar bill through the partition window. “Keep the change.”

She stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. Her heavy boots hit the rotting wooden steps of the porch. Every step felt heavy, calculated.

Before her hand even touched the brass doorknob, Jimmie’s shrill laughter pierced right through the thin wood.

“She’s such a loser,” Jimmie mocked from inside. “She couldn’t even keep a dying sixty-year-old man on the hook. Now she’s got nothing.”

Jaden’s eyes went dead. She lifted her right leg, the thick sole of her combat boot aiming straight for the lock.

Crash.

She kicked the door open. Wood splintered. The heavy door slammed violently against the interior wall, shaking the entire house.

The laughter inside died instantly.

Burt was sitting on the stained couch, smoking a cheap cigar. The loud bang made him jump. The burning ash dropped directly onto his thigh. He yelped, slapping at his pants.

Tammy rushed out of the kitchen, waving a greasy spatula. “Are you crazy?!” she screamed, pointing it right at Jaden’s face.

Jaden kept her hands shoved in her pockets. She stepped over the threshold, her face completely blank. She walked into the living room like a predator entering a cage.

She ignored Tammy’s spit flying through the air. She stopped right in front of the cheap glass coffee table.

Jimmie stood up from the armchair, crossing her arms over her chest. Her face was caked in cheap foundation. “What, did the old man dump you? Back here to beg for scraps?”

Jaden let out a low, dark chuckle. She tilted her chin up, her piercing gaze locking onto Jimmie’s eyes.

“Gus didn’t have a heart attack,” Jaden said. Her voice was smooth, but it cut like a razor. “He faked it to hide in the ICU. The IRS is auditing his shell companies for tax evasion.”

Burt’s face drained of color. He shot up from the couch. “How the hell do you know that?”

Jaden didn’t answer. She pulled her phone from her pocket and brought up a screenshot of the wire transfer confirmation Ernest had just sent.

She slammed the phone face-up onto the glass coffee table. Smack.

“Look at it,” Jaden ordered.

The screen displayed a crystal-clear bank statement. It showed a direct wire transfer of eight hundred and eighty thousand dollars from a blind Cayman trust—her trust—directly into Burt’s private checking account. The timestamp was two minutes ago.

“This is your severance,” Jaden said, her voice dripping with disgust. “That money is my final payment to be legally and permanently removed from your custody. Consider it hush money. You take it, you sign the papers, and you forget I ever existed.”

Tammy’s face went pale. She grabbed the phone, staring at the balance. The number was real.

Burt’s eyes darted between the phone and Jaden’s cold stare. “You… you have that kind of money?”

“I have a lot more than that,” Jaden said flatly. “But this is all you’re getting. Take it or leave it.”

She reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and pulled out a thick stack of papers. Her lawyers had drafted it the moment she decided to cut ties.

She threw the papers right at Burt’s face. The heavy pages slapped his cheek and scattered across the floor.

“Sign it,” Jaden commanded. “Take the money, and get the hell out of my life.”