Mr. Sterling, Your Ex-wife is a Famous CEO
Five years ago, Arabella Sterling vanished without a trace, disgraced, heartbroken, and branded her billionaire benefactor's dirty secret.
What the world never knew was that she'd also been his wife.
Or that the man she loved-and the son she gave everything for-chose another woman over her.
Now, she's back as The Reformer, a world-renowned business strategist celebrated for resurrecting dying empires.
Her newest client? The Sterling Group.
Her ex-husband's empire.
Adrian Sterling has spent years trying to atone for the lies that destroyed them both.
But when Arabella walks into his boardroom, colder, sharper, untouchable...he realizes redemption may come at a cost he can't pay.
Because this time, she's not here to save him.
She's here to ruin him.
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Chapter 9
ONE MONTH LATER
Arabella curled in the corner of the small room, her knees to her chest. Her arms shook from the last injection...they always made her feel like her bones were burning.
She bit down on her lip to stop herself from crying again. Her voice was too hoarse to make another sound anyway.
The metal door clicked. Nala walked in, bored, holding a tray of syringes.
Not again.
Arabella's heart thudded painfully. She watched Nala carelessly drop her phone on the counter before leaning over her.
"Time for your dose."
"No," Arabella whispered, backing away. "Please... no more."
Nala rolled her eyes. "You always fight. It won't change anything. I will lose my job if I don't do this."
A small smile appeared on her lips as she added, "Plus your sister is paying a lot of money for this."
Her smile started to turn into a sinister laugh as she drew up the medication into the syringe.
"I'm making so much more money in a month than I've made in 6 months combined, I can't take this job for granted."
As she turned to drop the medication bottle, Arabella moved. Fast. Desperate.
She grabbed the phone with trembling hands and slipped it under the thin blanket. The nurse didn't notice-not until Arabella pushed past her and ran out of the room.
Alarms started screaming, hospital security running after her.
Arabella's breath came out in sharp, broken gasps as she ran through the corridors of the hospital.
Her legs were blistered from the torture, her body weak from too much injections and too little food, but she ran, dashing into the first unguarded room she saw.
Another patient's room. But she was sleeping...Or so she thought.
Arabella locked the door behind her, docking at a corner.
Her fingers shook so badly she almost dropped the phone. She didn't know what she was doing, only that she had to get out, and had to live. For Axel. For herself.
She opened the call log. Her vision blurred.
There were only two numbers she memorized.
One, Adrian.
She started to type it, but stopped midway.
He definitely had someone following her that day. What's to say he wasn't involved in this?
Adrian was the last person she wanted to ask for help now.
Maybe not the last. Because the other number...she was forced to memorise it.
That number.
The one her Victor had said as he bled out inside the crashed car six years ago.
"Your mother..." Victor had rasped, coughing blood as he sagged in Arabella's arms. "She's dead." But-" his breath had stuttered, fading fast. "I might have found your father."
The number she swore she would never call because Victor's investigation showed he abandoned her mother.
The number she had tried to delete a thousand times. The number she wasn't even sure would still be in service.
But now...he might be her only hope.
Her thumb hovered over it. For a moment she couldn't breathe.
"I don't want to die here," she whispered. "Please...please help me." She prayed in her mind just before she pressed call.
The ringing felt endless, her heartbeat pounding in her ears with every ring.
Then a deep voice spoke as soon as the call went through.
"Hello?"
Arabella's breath cracked. She didn't know what to say. Words tangled in her throat. Tears slid silently down her face.
"Who is this?" the voice asked, sharper now. Strong. Alert.
"It's..." Her voice broke. "I-I...my name is Arabella Greene." She wiped her face with the back of her hand as the door banged behind her.
Fortunately, they had metal doors, making it impossible to tear down.
"I...I am supposed to be the child you had with Isabella Greene."
There was a hard, stunned silence.
"...Arabella?" His voice was rough now, like something hit him in the chest. "I–Isabella had our baby? Who are you? How did you know of Isabella?"
"I know it's hard to believe a random person claiming to be your child, but you are my last resort. I'm trapped in a mental hospital. I could die any moment," she whispered. Her whole body shook. "Y-you couldn't save my mom...maybe you can save me?"
She heard the scrape of a chair, like he jumped to his feet.
"If I find out you are tricking me, I will make sure you regret making this call," he threatened, voice steady but trembling under it. "Where are you? I'm coming for you. Right now...don't hang up."
Over the next few seconds, she could hear him curse under his breath as he shouted words of command to what felt like his guards.
Arabella pressed her forehead against the wall, crying silently.
"Please... hurry." she whispered.
Arabella didn't move. She held the phone to her chest like it was the last piece of hope she had.
She could hear Nurse Nala and Dr. Sebastian arguing behind the door as they tried to open the door with its spare keys.
They weren't about to let Arabella end their paycheck and massive donations.
While the chaos went on, Arabella noticed the patient in the room hadn't moved. Not once.
Despite the shouting, the banging, the alarms.
She tiptoed closer, her breath shallow.
The woman's eyes were open. Glassy. Staring at nothing.
Dead.
The woman had died just minutes ago-the nurse had barely stepped out to call for a gurney when Arabella burst in.
Arabella staggered back, tripping and falling on her back. She covered her mouth with a palm, while she tried to move back with the other.
The phone slipped from her hand. The banging on the door and threats from the nurses didn't stop.
The key box contained rusty spare keys for every room in the hospital so it was hard to find. And even if they did, it might likely not work because of the rust.
Arabella gasped crawling under the bed, hands pressed firmly on her mouth, trying to be invisible.
For over an hour, she heard them struggle with the keys, arguing and cursing, every second felt like eternity.
After a while, the pounding stopped, replaced by a low, wavering noise that seeped through the ceiling.
Under the bed, Arabella held her breath, unsure if it was a helicopter overhead or just the building groaning.
Then it stopped. The banging. The threats. She heard faint footsteps approaching. Then a few furious commands.
Several more minutes passed before the door opened.
"Arabella?" The familiar voice she heard on the phone earlier came.
Arabella was hesitant, but as she peeped out and locked eyes with the pair of beautiful brown eyes that looked just like hers, hot tears poured down her eyes.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with brown eyes exactly like hers and dark hair streaked with silver. A neatly kept beard framed his jaw, giving him a dignified, commanding look.
She slowly crawled out, her vision blurred but she could still make out the figures of several guards surrounding the room.
The man couldn't help mouthing, "Isabella...." as he reached out, giving her a hand which she hesitantly took to get on her feet.
"You...are..." he stuttered, his eyes locked firmly to hers. The resemblance was clear as day...at least for him. "I–I'm Richard. Richard Gallagher..."
"Thanks for saving me." Arabella interrupted as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away from his grip, lowering her gaze.
Yes, he saved her. But that doesn't mean she'd ever forgive him for abandoning her mother. For abandoning her.
"Isabella..." whatever he was about to say trailed off as a guard pushed Dr. Sebastian to the floor, announcing,
"He's in charge here."
Even before he was questioned, Dr. Sebastian started to confess, begging to be spared.
Richard looked at Arabella, jaws tightened with anger on hearing the story.
"You call the shots, Arabella. What do you want to do to them?"
Arabella slowly wiped the tears off her face, the unbearable fear and pain she felt slowly washing away knowing she was safe now.
But the Arabella that came in here was different than the one Richard had rescued.
Now, she will make everyone that hurt her pay dearly...but slowly.
She looked at the corpse laying in the bed and then back to Richard, "Seems like I will be needing another favour from you, Mr. Gallagher."
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7.2
I am a resident surgeon, secretly married to Dr. Barrett Walters, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery. It was a transactional marriage; he paid my mother's mounting medical bills, and I was his secret, obedient wife in the dark.
But at the hospital, he was a cold-blooded tyrant who deliberately made my life a living hell. During a major medical conference, he viciously tore apart my successful surgical repair, looking me dead in the eye as he called me incompetent in front of all my colleagues.
The humiliation didn't stop there. With his tacit approval, the senior residents bullied me, assigning me every brutal night shift. When his beautiful, wealthy heiress "girlfriend" visited the ward, he publicly mocked my background to make her smile.
"Some people get in through the back door. They're not fit for the front lines."
Even when I was forced to work as a secret banquet waitress to cover the medical copays he ignored, he found me, ruined the job out of pure possessive jealousy, and then fined my meager resident salary the very next morning just to show his absolute control.
I endured his punishing kisses and cruel rebukes, sacrificing my dignity just to keep my mother alive. But I couldn't understand why he had to destroy every shred of my peace. If he wanted the perfect heiress, why did he refuse to let me go?
Staring at his cold, controlling eyes in the stairwell, my exhaustion finally overpowered my fear. I was done being his victim, and it was time to tear up this contract.
7.7
Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him.
Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary.
As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him.
He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?
7.8
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
8.7
Emerson worked grueling twelve-hour shifts just to keep her five-year-old son, Leo, alive. Her only lifeline was her partner Alden, who was willing to give up his wealthy family to protect them.
But when Leo's bone marrow completely failed, the doctor delivered a death sentence. The only way to save him was a two-million-dollar treatment, or having another child with his biological father.
That father was Finnegan Mcconnell, the ruthless billionaire who had accused Emerson of faking her pregnancy and abandoned her five years ago.
Desperate for the medical fees, Emerson submitted her designs to Finnegan's company.
Instead of advancing the money, Finnegan tore her portfolio to shreds and trapped her as a prisoner in his estate.
To force her complete submission, he systematically destroyed her reality. He framed Alden with federal charges, leaving him facing twenty years in prison.
Alden's mother stormed into the pediatric ICU, violently strangling Emerson against the wall.
"Beg Finnegan to let my son go! You are a curse!"
Even Emerson's own adoptive mother showed up at the hospital, just to publicly mock her dying child.
Emerson was suffocating in despair. Finnegan already had a beautiful new wife and a five-year-old daughter—absolute proof he had been cheating while she was pregnant and alone.
He had his perfect family. Why did he have to hunt her down and sever every lifeline she had left, just to watch her drown?
With her son's heart monitor fading and Alden locked in a cell, her pride finally shattered.
Emerson walked into the top-floor executive office and dropped to her knees at the devil's feet, but the desperate mother looking up at him was preparing for a devastating revenge.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
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.