Testing His Wife: The Billionaire's Secret
Frieda married Dewitt believing he was just a struggling middle-manager, living in a cramped apartment with only seventy-two dollars left to her name.
She had no idea her cold husband was actually a ruthless billionaire running a cruel psychological test on her. Convinced she might be a gold digger, Dewitt gave her a meager allowance, keeping the divorce papers ready the moment she showed any greed.
While Dewitt secretly judged her every move, Frieda suffered endlessly. At her toxic workplace, she was relentlessly bullied by her arrogant in-laws and mocked for her scuffed shoes. Even after she risked her life to protect his grandmother from an armed mugger and exposed her own hidden tech genius, her coworkers still treated her like trailer-park trash. They cornered her on the street, pointing fingers in her face.
"You are a shameless, gold-digging whore! A billionaire would never want you!"
She endured the humiliation, having just rejected a priceless no-limit black card from his family out of pure principle. She truly believed she and her husband were fighting through poverty together. She had no idea her "poor" husband was watching her every struggle from the tinted windows of a hidden Maybach across the street.
But when her bullies finally pushed too far and raised a hand to strike her, the icy wall around the billionaire's heart completely shattered. Dewitt tore up the divorce papers, his eyes turning pitch black with murderous rage.
"If anyone ever raises a hand to her again, break it."
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Chapter 5
Eleonora marched back into the living room.
The furious storm on her face vanished the second she looked at Frieda. Her expression softened into pure, grandmotherly warmth.
She walked straight to the coffee table. She reached out and gently pulled the damp rag out of Frieda's hands.
"Come sit with me, child," Eleonora said, pulling Frieda toward the sofa.
Dewitt stepped into the room from the balcony. He stopped right behind the sofa. His eyes were locked on his grandmother's hands, his entire body rigid with tension.
Eleonora pushed Frieda down onto the cushions. She sat beside her and took Frieda's hands, rubbing her thumbs over the rough, calloused edges of Frieda's fingers.
"Tell me the truth, Frieda," Eleonora said softly. "How much money does Dewitt give you for household expenses every month?"
Frieda blinked. She looked up, her eyes darting nervously to Dewitt.
He was staring at her, his face completely blank, but a muscle feathered in his jaw.
"One thousand dollars," Frieda answered honestly.
Eleonora sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes widened in genuine shock.
She whipped her head around and glared at Dewitt. If looks could kill, he would be bleeding out on the cheap rug.
One thousand dollars in New York City. It was barely enough to keep the lights on. It was financial abuse.
Dewitt looked away. He stared at the blank wall, his jaw locked so tight his teeth ached. He refused to apologize.
Eleonora let out a disgusted huff. She turned to Maura and snapped her fingers.
Maura immediately handed over Eleonora's limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag.
Eleonora popped the gold clasp. She reached into the hidden zipper compartment.
She pulled out a heavy, matte-black metal card.
It had no numbers on the front. Just a subtle, engraved pattern. It was the Centurion Card. An invite-only, no-limit black card that screamed unimaginable, bottomless wealth.
Dewitt saw the black metal flash in the light.
His heart stopped dead in his chest.
His blood turned to ice water. His lungs seized. If Frieda took that card to any bank, any high-end store, the concierge would immediately address her by his real name. His billionaire status would be exposed in seconds.
"Here," Eleonora said, pressing the heavy metal card toward Frieda. "This is for you. Buy whatever you want. Clothes, food, anything."
Frieda looked down. She stared at the card. Even without knowing what it was, the sheer weight and coldness of the metal made her instincts scream that it was dangerous.
"Grandma!" Dewitt barked.
He took a swift, measured step forward, using his broad frame to smoothly block the space between Frieda and his grandmother. He kept his voice low and firm. "Grandma, please don't do this. You're going to put her in a difficult position."
Thwack!
Eleonora swung her wooden cane. The hard rubber tip slammed violently into Dewitt's shin, punishing his attempt to intervene.
Dewitt grunted in pain. He stumbled, his hand dropping to his side.
"Do not interrupt me!" Eleonora hissed at him.
Dewitt gritted his teeth. His mind raced, desperately searching for a lie to stop this.
He leaned down, his face inches from Eleonora's ear. "If you give her that much access, she might drain it and run," he whispered harshly. "The test will be ruined."
Eleonora let out a dry, mocking laugh.
"If she runs because of a piece of plastic, then your test was right," she whispered back. "Let's see what she does."
Dewitt was trapped. Checkmate.
If he fought harder, he would look guilty. He clenched his hands into tight fists. The veins on the back of his hands bulged against his skin.
He slowly stood up straight. He stared down at Frieda's hands.
Frieda was completely overwhelmed. She looked at the heavy black card, then up at Dewitt.
His eyes were dark, frantic. She could see the raw panic bleeding through his cold facade. He was silently begging her not to take it.
Frieda slowly raised her hand.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out.
Dewitt stopped breathing. The walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on him. His entire empire, his revenge, his carefully constructed lie, was about to burn to the ground.
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7.1
The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.
9.1
Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart.
Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him.
"She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras.
Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly.
Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm.
Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed.
As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile.
"The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed.
Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up.
She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred.
Then, she gasped for air.
She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror.
It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived.
A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out.
8.9
For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire.
Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate.
I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO.
He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family.
"Throw this bitch out into the snow."
He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother.
But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket.
My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me.
Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn.
That cufflink belonged to him.
The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross.
If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life.
But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out.
When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed.
I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.
7.8
Evelyn was already suffocating under her family's impending bankruptcy when she rear-ended a ten-million-dollar Rolls Royce in the freezing rain.
The tinted window rolled down, revealing the cold, predatory face of Julian Hawthorne—the man she had brutally abandoned three years ago.
Now a ruthless billionaire, he demanded a seven-figure repair check she couldn't afford, or she would have to pay with her body.
Desperate, she went to her wealthy fiancé, Preston, for the money, only to find him in a VIP club with another woman straddling his lap.
Instead of helping, Preston threw the repair bill on the floor and laughed with his rich friends.
"You want the money? Fine. Get on your knees, crawl over here, and kiss the tip of my shoe in front of everyone."
Evelyn trembled with pure humiliation.
Three years ago, she had sacrificed the only man she truly loved to save her family from ruin, only to end up engaged to this pathetic, cheating scum.
Just as her knees bent toward the carpet, the heavy velvet door was kicked completely off its hinges.
Julian walked in like the grim reaper, beat Preston half to death, and dragged Evelyn away.
He pinned her in his car, threatening to destroy everyone she cared about if she didn't return to him.
Evelyn was terrified and confused. Why was this powerful tyrant going to such extreme, violent lengths to trap a woman who had thrown him away?
The answer slipped out through an accidental phone call: the cold-blooded CEO had spent the previous night drunk, crying and screaming her name.
Realizing the monster caging her was actually just a desperate, heartbroken man, Evelyn wiped her tears and made a decision.
She was going to break her engagement, walk into his corporate fortress, and finally face the terrifying debt of their past.
7.4
For nine years, Arianna was the loyal girlfriend and lead engineer who built Gregory's tech company from the ground up.
But coming home early from a business trip, she overheard him laughing with his friends about how he would never marry her.
"Arianna is useful. She's convenient for my physical needs. That's all it is."
He was just using her while waiting for his untouchable stepsister to get a divorce.
The betrayal didn't stop there. Days later, she caught him buying Cartier diamonds for a twenty-two-year-old intern.
When she secretly checked his phone that night, the truth was even uglier. Gregory wasn't just cheating; he was plotting corporate sabotage. He planned to steal the proprietary code she had poured her life into, kick her out of the company without a dime, and hand her executive title to his mistress.
Nine years of blind devotion and endless sacrifices were nothing but a cruel, calculated joke. She had excused his emotional distance for years, never realizing he was intentionally draining her dry while keeping his soul loyal to another woman.
But instead of breaking down, the weak, devoted Arianna died in the dark. She quietly locked her core engine code in a biometric safe, hired an elite private investigator, and put on her sharpest suit. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.
7.6
Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care.
But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles.
She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala.
"Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy."
Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion.
Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin.
When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies.
"Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace."
Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood.
Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto.
Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank.
Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport.
Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box.
She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island.