I Investigated My Ex for Billion-Dollar Tax Fraud

The crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the mahogany dining table, its brilliance as cold as the silence that had settled over our family dinner. I set down my wine glass with deliberate precision, the soft clink against the china plate seeming to echo in the cavernous dining room of the Rose mansion. "I want a divorce." The words hung in the air like smoke from an extinguished candle. Trenton's fork froze halfway to his mouth, a piece of prime rib dangling from the silver tines. Across from me, Jordan's head snapped up from his phone, his dark eyes—so much like his father's—wide with shock. Cataleya, seated beside Trenton in what should have been my mother-in-law's chair, had the audacity to look surprised, though I caught the flicker of satisfaction that crossed her perfectly sculpted features before she composed herself. "Ella." Trenton's voice carried that familiar tone of condescension, the one he used when he thought I was being dramatic. "Don't be ridiculous. We can discuss whatever's bothering you after dinner." I smoothed my napkin across my lap, buying myself a moment to steady my breathing. Nine years of marriage had taught me to recognize that dismissive edge in his voice, the way he reduced my feelings to mere inconveniences.

Ivy gave up her soul to save Kade. In return, he humiliated her, parading his mistresses and treating her like a gold-digging parasite. On their fifth anniversary, when he strips her of her dignity in front of an elite crowd, Ivy finally drops the divorce papers and walks away. Kade laughs, threatening to cut off her dying mother's medical funds. He doesn't know her mother is already dead. He doesn't know his estranged, terrifyingly powerful older brother, Rowan, has been waiting in the shadows for years. When Kade finally realizes what he's lost, he goes insane to get her back—only to find Rowan's ring on her finger and his hands all over her body.

The courthouse steps felt like a victory podium beneath my heels as I descended them, the weight of a three-week trial finally lifting from my shoulders. The Harrington case had consumed my every waking hour, but the verdict—a unanimous decision in my client's favor—made the sleepless nights worth it. The autumn air carried a crisp bite that matched my mood: sharp, clear, triumphant. I scanned the crowd for Darren's face, expecting to see my husband waiting with that proud smile he reserved for my professional victories. "Brooke!" I spotted him near the fountain, waving. My lips curved upward automatically, but the smile froze when I noticed he wasn't alone. A young woman stood beside him, her glossy dark hair catching the afternoon light. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, her designer outfit screaming of privilege and wealth. But it wasn't her youth or beauty that made my blood run cold. It was what she held in her perfectly manicured hands: a birthday cake, complete with lit candles flickering in the breeze.

Being second best had always been my place. My sister had the love, the attention, the praise. Even now, she had the past. Rhys Granger was my fiancé after she vanished. A billionaire. My parents pushed me into the engagement, and I accepted it. I had wanted him for years. I thought this was my turn to be chosen. I was wrong. One night, he slapped me. All because of my sister's mug. Got angry and went to the club to cool my head down. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. It was reckless, It was stupid, It was completely ill-advised. But it was also the Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go

I arrived at Maison Laurent thirty minutes early, smoothing the silk of my burgundy dress as the maître d' led me to our reserved table. The restaurant glowed with soft amber light, crystal glasses catching and scattering it across white tablecloths. Five years ago, Nathan had proposed to me in this very restaurant, dropping to one knee beside a violinist playing Debussy's "Clair de Lune." "Mrs. Hayes, would you like to order a drink while you wait?" the server asked, his voice gentle with practiced sympathy. I wondered how many lonely wives he served each night in this temple to Los Angeles romance. "A glass of the Cabernet, please." I placed my phone face-down on the table, refusing to check it again. By the time the wine arrived, I had already memorized every detail of our corner table—the delicate fold of the napkins, the precise alignment of the silverware, the soft flicker of the candle between us. I took a long sip, letting the wine coat my tongue, and finally allowed myself to acknowledge what I'd known since I'd dressed alone in our bedroom: Nathan wasn't coming. At the forty-five-minute mark, I ordered the bottle. "Your husband?" the server asked, his eyes darting to the empty chair across from me.

I was rushed to the emergency room with a bleeding head after a horrific car crash. But while the doctor was stitching my forehead, I heard the nurses whispering. "The CEO of the Finley Group is upstairs right now, playing nurse to that pregnant actress." My heart stopped. I ripped out my IV and dragged my battered body to the VIP suite, only to watch my billionaire husband tenderly wipe away his mistress's tears. I filed for divorce that night and left his penthouse with nothing but a basic suitcase. Carter was furious. He tracked me down, completely ignoring my injuries, and mocked me relentlessly. "You're nothing but a breeding tool. You won't survive a week without my money." When I later collapsed from severe stomach cramps, he abandoned me on the floor because his mistress faked a panic attack over the phone. He even nearly ran me over in the freezing rain as he sped back to her side. I had loved him in secret for ten agonizing years, pouring my bleeding heart into a novel about my unrequited love. I couldn't understand how a man could be so incredibly cold-blooded to his own wife. But Carter didn't know I was the anonymous author of that global bestselling book. So when he tried to use his massive wealth to buy the film rights and give his mistress the lead role, I walked straight into his boardroom, slammed my contractual veto on the table, and finally fought back.