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The Billionaire's Regret: Chasing His Ex-Wife Novel Cover

The Billionaire's Regret: Chasing His Ex-Wife

I was the canary in the gilded cage, the clean face of the O'Neill Syndicate. My husband, Cameron, was the Don, and I was supposed to be his cherished trophy. But at my own art exhibition, the facade cracked. A notification lit up my phone: 'Watch your husband touch the woman he actually loves.' It was Kacie, his legal 'fixer.' She smirked at me across the room, whispering that I was just a number on a ledger while she was the partner he couldn't afford to lose. Things turned deadly when I went riding to clear my head. My saddle snapped mid-air. I hit the ground hard, shattering my leg. It wasn't an accident; the leather had been cleanly cut. Lying in the hospital bed, I waited for my husband's rage to defend me. Instead, Cameron calmly peeled a pear and fed it to me. "Leather wears out," he said dismissively. "Don't be paranoid." That night, I heard him whispering with Kacie in the hallway. He knew she had sabotaged the saddle. He knew she could have killed me. He laughed and said, "A cripple doesn't look good at galas. Keep her docile." He chose his mistress over my life. He sacrificed my safety for his public image. The tears stopped falling instantly. I didn't want an apology anymore. I picked up the phone and called Sarah Vance, the city's most ruthless divorce attorney. "I don't just want a divorce," I told her. "I want to take his empire, piece by piece."
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Chapter 8

Aryana Mason POV:

Cameron took a hesitant step toward me.

"Aryana," he began, reaching out a hand as if to bridge the chasm between us.

Sarah stepped in front of me.

She didn't shove him. She simply occupied the space between us-a wall of expensive tailoring and absolute resolve.

"Back off," she commanded, her voice low but cutting.

Kacie saw her moment.

She threw herself at Cameron, clutching his arm, tears already streaming down her face with practiced ease.

"Oh, Cameron! How could she?" Kacie wailed, her voice pitching up for maximum acoustic reach. "Aryana is so cruel! I have given you everything! My youth! My heart!"

She turned her tear-streaked face to the crowd, playing to the gallery.

"I love him!" she sobbed, trembling. "Is it a crime to love?"

A few of the older wives murmured sympathetically. They loved a tragedy. They loved a martyr.

The tide was turning. Kacie was successfully painting herself as the victim of a jealous, unstable wife.

I watched the performance. It was impressive. Almost Oscar-worthy.

I felt a cold, humorless smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

"Keep talking, Kacie," I whispered to the air.

"I swear on my life!" Kacie shrieked, raising a hand to the crystal-adorned ceiling. "I swear to God, my love for Cameron is pure! I have no other motive!"

Sarah pulled her phone from her pocket.

She tapped the screen once.

Her bodyguard stepped forward, holding up a microphone he had detached from the podium.

Sarah held the phone to the mic.

A voice filled the room. Kacie's voice.

Clear. Arrogant. Laughing.

"He is an idiot, just like the rest of them. I don't care about him. I care about the checkbook. Once I have the ring, I'll ship Aryana off to an asylum and run this place."

The recording crackled with the distinct sound of a lighter flicking.

"She is so stupid. She actually thinks he loves her. But I'm the one counting the money."

The silence in the ballroom was absolute. It was heavy, suffocating.

Kacie stopped crying instantly.

Her face went gray. All the color drained out of her, leaving her looking like a corpse in a gold dress.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out-only a dry gasp.

I stepped around Sarah.

I walked right up to Kacie, invading her personal space.

"Your love is a transaction," I said, my voice echoing in the quiet room. "And your loyalty is as cheap as your perfume."

Kacie lunged at me, her manicured nails hooked into claws.

Marcus caught her by the back of her dress before she could touch me.

He dragged her backward. Her heels scraped violently across the marble floor.

"Let me go! You bitch!" she screamed, thrashing like a trapped animal.

"Insulting my client is unwise," Sarah said coolly, adjusting her cuffs.

Cameron looked from Kacie to me. He looked like a man waking up from a coma.

"Aryana," he said, his voice desperate. "The elders... the family business. You can't leave like this. Think of the stock prices. Think of the merger."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

He wasn't heartbroken. He was worried about his portfolio.

"Family interests," I repeated. The words tasted like ash.

"We can fix this," he pleaded, stepping closer. "I can make them forget."

"You never loved me," I said, the realization settling in my bones. "You just loved that I was clean. That I was safe."

"That's not true," he started.

"It is," I cut him off. "And it is pathetic."

I turned my back on him.

I linked my arm through Sarah's.

"Let's go," I said.

We walked out of the ballroom, heads held high.

I didn't look back at the chaos. I didn't look back at my husband.

I walked out of the O'Neill family and into the night.

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