My billionaire ex-husband wants me back
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Gianna Windsor and Brandon Baker have been married for two and a half years. Since it was an arranged marriage, Gianna accepted the fact that Brandon would never love her, but she was satisfied with the respect and care he showed her.
That was until Brandon's best friend, Bailey, announced her pregnancy with his baby.
The bubble Ginanna had created for herself shattered and she had no choice but to divorce him and make room for the child. A few weeks after leaving, she finds out she's pregnant as well.
When Brandon sees a child that resembles him a few years later, he is determined to get back in Gianna's life and take care of her and their child. Will Gianna allow him back into her life? Will she fall for him again?
My billionaire ex-husband wants me back Chapter 1
GIANNA
~•~
After two years of marriage, I was used to waiting for my husband.
I just didn't know I would be waiting for him tonight as well. It was my birthday and I expected him to be home so we could celebrate together, but he wasn't.
My birthday was celebrated last night because today was a work day, but towards the end of the night, Brandon had gotten a call, which made him rush out of the party before it even ended. I didn't say anything about it because it could have been an emergency, but when I asked him about it this morning, he said it was nothing and left for work.
He hadn't been back since then.
I wasn't worried about him because coming home late was usual for him, but it was almost midnight and my birthday would soon be over.
I bit down on my bottom lip as I stared at the little cake I'd baked by myself earlier in the day. It was my birthday yet I was the one making the cake.
"Should I put the cake in the fridge?" Allison, our housekeeper, asked me. "It's humid and if it stays out for long, it's bound to get spoiled."
She was right. I'd made it in the morning and left it out for whenever he came back, but... "Let's wait a few minutes."
"Okay, ma'am."
I looked away from her so I wouldn't see the pity in her face. She lived with us so she knew everything in our marriage. The first time I saw Brandon was when I was in college and he attended an event for alumni. I had a crush on him since then, which was why when his father proposed an arranged marriage between us, I jumped at the opportunity.
I thought it would be the best thing ever to be married to the love of my life, but it seemed as though I was wrong. Brandon didn't love me back. He respected me and cared for me, but his heart wasn't mine. I had long ago given up on trying to win his heart. I just wanted to have a happy marriage and how could I have one when he was neglecting important days like the day I was born?
I liked watching the news but I didn't dare turn on the television because it would be filled with news about the party yesterday. They would all be gushing about how extravagant it was and the presents Brandon bought for me. Yes, they were expensive and rare, but they had nothing to do with my interests and it saddened me.
We had been living together for two years yet Brandon still didn't know the things I liked.
I watched the clock above the television and as it struck midnight, a single tear rolled down my cheek.
I dabbed it away quickly. I had no reason to cry. Maybe he was stuck at work and couldn't come. It happened at times. Besides, he had already celebrated with me last night.
Releasing a sigh, I looked outside the window one last time to see if his car would drive in. It didn't.
"Put it in the fridge," I instructed Allison before I climbed up the stairs and went into our room.
It took a while but I eventually drifted off to sleep.
I was awoken the next morning by shuffling. I opened my eyes slowly to see that Brandon had arrived and was in the middle of taking off his shirt.
"Good morning," I mumbled, hiding the fact that I was still bitter about yesterday.
"Morning." He walked toward me to place a kiss on my forehead. "Sorry for not coming back yesterday. How was your birthday?"
At least, he remembered, I told myself. "It was alright." I lied through my teeth. "I spent the day with Emily and Tyler."
"Oh." His expression fell, but he covered it up in a second. I knew that he didn't like how close Tyler and I were, but he couldn't say anything about it since he also had a girl best friend. I hated her with passion, but I kept it to myself as well.
"Where were you last night?" I changed the subject. "Work?"
"Yeah, but I'm taking the day off to spend with you since I couldn't make it back yesterday."
His words warmed my heart. It was times like this that I was happy I married him after all. He was very considerate and treated me the way he would treat someone he loved.
I stood up at once, making him chuckle. "I'll go and shower."
"It's still early, G. You can sleep some more."
I shook my head. I couldn't, not when he promised to spend the whole day with me. That had never happened before. Maybe he was trying to make our married life better. I didn't have any opposition to that. I was more than happy to spend time with him.
He watched me with a strained smile as I skipped into the bathroom.
I spent a lot of time in the shower, scrubbing, and exfoliating because I hoped the day would end with great sex. Brandon knew how to treat a woman right, in and out of bed. I was really lucky to be married to him.
By the time I finished getting ready, it was very much bright outside. It was past nine.
Brandon got ready as well and we went downstairs to have breakfast together. While we were eating, the doorbell rang. We stared at each other. None of us were expecting any guests.
"I'll go and check who is at the door." Allison offered and I nodded.
A minute later, Allison came back with Bernice, Brandon's younger sister. "Surprise!" She squeaked out. "It's past nine and you're not at work yet which means you are taking the day off. I've come to spend time with you."
Brandon glanced at me. "You came at the wrong time, Bernice. I have plans with my wife."
My cheeks heated up. I could never get used to Brandon calling me by that title since he didn't do it often. Bernice spared me a glance, almost sneering at me. "Oh, come on! You and 'your wife' have forever to spend time together. I can join you today. Gianna wouldn't mind."
I closed my eyes briefly. Bernice was the spawn of the devil. For some reason I couldn't fathom, she hated me and hated my marriage with her brother, so I hated her as well. She had tried to sabotage our relationship in the past by attempting to create scandals about me but it didn't work and she ended up being scolded by her father.
It had been two years and she still hadn't warmed up to me.
Without waiting for confirmation, she sat on the right side of her brother, opposite me. "I don't have any classes today and I'm bored. It has been a while since we hung out. I invited Bailey as well."
I blinked in surprise. "You invited who?"
"Bailey. Don't tell me you're still insecure about the relationship between her and my brother."
I gritted my teeth. "I'm not."
"Then it'll be fine!" She said with an evil smirk. I had the strongest urge to wipe that smirk from her face but I kept my cool.
She had ruined my day already. I didn't want to ruin my relationship with Brandon by fighting with his sister.
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My billionaire ex-husband wants me back of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
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7.9
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash.
But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love.
When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages.
"Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting."
Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance.
"The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!"
My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost.
And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead.
The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt.
When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
9.7
I was the Luna of the Black Moon pack, happily carrying the Alpha's heir and believing in our Fated Mate bond.
But on a romantic getaway to the mountains, my beloved mate Ryker suddenly pushed me off a cliff.
As I dangled over the abyss, pleading for help, he just sneered and crushed my fingers under his heavy boot.
"Such a shame, my dear Luna."
I survived the plunge but lost my baby in a pool of my own blood.
Lying half-dead in the dark forest, I heard Ryker and his Beta confirming my "accidental" death.
He hadn't just cheated on me. He had orchestrated my murder to officially welcome his Chosen Mate.
He traded my life and our unborn pup for a piece of territory, disgusted by my mother's healing bloodline.
I couldn't understand how the sacred bond of the Moon Goddess could be so easily discarded, or how a father could butcher his own flesh and blood for power.
My love and grief were instantly replaced by a burning, venomous rage.
Fortunately, the legendary Alpha King passed by and saved me from the woods.
Hidden away in an ancestral sanctuary, I opened my laptop and sent a message to a mysterious ally.
"I need to get my revenge."
This time, I was going to make them pay in blood.
7.6
Isolde Mitchell knew her wealthy husband was cheating on her, but the true nightmare began when her mother-in-law summoned her.
The older woman coldly announced that the mistress was pregnant with a boy and would be moving into their estate.
Because Isolde's family had gone bankrupt and she had only given birth to a frail daughter, she was deemed completely worthless.
When Isolde packed her bags and demanded a divorce, her husband Clark just laughed.
He threatened to use their ironclad prenup to leave her penniless and take full custody of her daughter just to torture her.
To make matters worse, he forced Isolde to secure a failing business deal with the ruthless billionaire Jacques Valdez, essentially ordering her to sell her body to get the signature.
"If you fail, you will never see Bria again."
He even sent his goons to snatch the little girl from her preschool to prove his point.
Isolde was completely cornered, trembling with a mix of rage and absolute despair.
How could the man she married be such a monster? She would rather die than let them destroy her daughter, but how could a bankrupt mother fight a powerful dynasty with absolutely nothing?
Out of options, she looked at the private business card the terrifying billionaire Jacques had unexpectedly given her daughter.
Swallowing her pride, she decided to make a deal with the devil himself, ready to use his power to tear her husband's family apart.
9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
8.9
I sold myself into a loveless marriage for $500,000 just to afford my little niece's life-saving surgery.
But my new husband, Kash, despised me, completely convinced I was a shameless gold-digger after his assets.
At 2:00 AM, he called to demand I fulfill my end of our twisted bargain: giving him an heir.
He forced me to sign a supplementary agreement surrendering all custody rights before I was even pregnant, treating me like a rented womb he bought at auction.
When my niece's condition suddenly worsened and I desperately begged him for a $50,000 advance, he hurled a black credit card directly at my face, leaving a stinging red welt.
"Take the money and get out," he sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
He immediately set up real-time transaction alerts to track my every purchase, waiting to catch me on a selfish shopping spree.
He thought I was a parasite, completely unaware that every single penny went straight to the pediatric intensive care unit.
Even my abusive former guardians cornered me at the fertility clinic, loudly mocking me for selling my body while my niece was dying.
I endured the degrading contracts, the cold IVF appointments, and Kash's relentless contempt, suffocating under the weight of his cruel assumptions.
Why did he have to strip away my dignity when he already owned my life on paper?
But as I clutched the hospital receipt that finally secured my niece's surgery, the fear inside me died.
With a new career starting tomorrow and a high-powered lawyer suddenly stepping in to audit my stolen inheritance, I was done playing the helpless victim.
I was going to show my arrogant husband exactly what happens when you push a desperate woman too far.
