The Discarded Wife Is A Billionaire

The DNA test in my hands felt like a death sentence. 0% match. After three years of marriage to billionaire Joseph Villarreal, the truth was out: I wasn't the heiress everyone thought I was. My mother-in-law, Buna, marched into the study with a team of lawyers and threw the divorce papers at me. "You're a fraud, Giselle," she sneered. "The Woods family has cut you off. You are a parasite we are finally removing." I looked at Joseph, praying for a spark of the man I loved. But he just sat there, cold and immaculate, exhaling a plume of cigar smoke that felt like a wall between us. "Sign it," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "This marriage was a business transaction. The product I purchased was fraudulent." They didn't just take my home; they stripped me of my dignity. They forced me to hand over my anniversary necklace and yank the wedding ring off my finger, claiming the stone belonged to the "real" daughter, Clydie. Joseph watched with total indifference as I was kicked out into a torrential storm. I collapsed in the mud halfway down the driveway, clutching a broken suitcase, twenty-three years old and completely alone. I didn't understand how three years of devotion could be worth zero to him. He didn't even hate me; he just saw me as a depreciated asset. As I sobbed in the rain, I realized the man I had given my heart to never existed. But Joseph didn't know that the "fake" he threw away was actually the long-lost daughter of the Hines global empire. Six years later, I am no longer the girl crying in the mud. I am Dr. Mandy, the world's top neurosurgeon and a billionaire in my own right. When a little boy with Joseph’s espresso-colored eyes approached me in the hospital and begged me to save his father, I realized the man who ruined me was finally in my hands.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Giselle turned. She was holding another document, waving it like a fan. "Not so fast. We need to settle the accounts."

"I signed the papers," Giselle said, hugging her arms around herself. "I'm leaving."

"You signed the divorce," Buna sneered, stepping closer. "Now we execute the prenup. Clause 14: In the event of fraud, all assets, gifts, and jewelry provided by the Villarreal family must be returned immediately."

She snapped her fingers. "Search her."

Giselle's eyes widened. "What? No. You can't-"

The female head of housekeeping stepped forward. Giselle stepped back, her back hitting the bodyguard's chest. She felt violated as hands patted down her pockets, checking the lining of her coat.

Joseph stood in the doorway of the study. He was leaning against the frame, watching. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just watched.

"The necklace," Buna commanded.

Giselle's hand went to her throat. The diamond solitaire. It was an anniversary gift. "Joseph gave this to me," she whispered, looking at him. "It's mine."

"Family trust money paid for it," the lawyer stated monotonously. "Technically, it belongs to the estate."

Giselle looked at Joseph. Say something, she begged silently. Please, just have one ounce of decency.

He checked his watch.

Something inside Giselle snapped. The last thread of hope, the last pathetic wish that he cared, disintegrated.

She unclasped the necklace. She didn't hand it to Buna. She dropped it onto the silver tray the butler was holding. It landed with a sharp clatter.

Buna's eyes dropped to her left hand. "And the ring."

Giselle's breath hitched. The pink diamond. He had put it on her finger. He had promised...

"She doesn't deserve to wear it," Buna hissed. "That stone belongs to the future mistress of this house. To Clydie."

Giselle grabbed the ring. Her knuckles turned white as she yanked it over her knuckle. It scraped her skin, leaving a red mark.

She didn't put it on the tray.

She turned to Joseph. She locked eyes with him. She threw it.

The ring sailed through the air and hit the carpet right in front of his polished shoes. It bounced once and settled near his toe.

Joseph looked down at the ring. His jaw tightened. His hand twitched by his side, almost as if he wanted to reach for it. A strange current of electricity shot through his arm, a primal urge to stop this, but he crushed it instantly. He stayed rooted to the spot.

"Get out," Buna shrieked. "Get this trash out of my house!"

Giselle ran. She ran up the stairs to the guest room they had moved her into last week. She grabbed the old, battered suitcase she had arrived with three years ago. She threw in her jeans, her old sweaters, her ID. Nothing that they had bought. Nothing that smelled like this house.

She dragged the suitcase down the grand staircase. The wheels bumped loudly on each step.

The front door opened. A gust of wind and rain blew in, along with a woman in a shimmering cocktail dress.

Clydie Woods.

She shook out her umbrella, handing it to a maid. She looked dry, warm, and expensive. She saw Giselle standing there, wet-eyed and disheveled, dragging a broken suitcase.

"Oh, Giselle," she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. She walked over, her heels clicking. She leaned in close, so only Giselle could hear. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of him. Better than a fake like you ever could."

She pulled back and smiled brightly. "Safe travels."

Giselle didn't trust herself to speak. She pushed past her. The butler held the door open, his face full of pity.

"Mrs. Villarreal..." he started.

"Don't," Giselle said.

She stepped out onto the porch. The rain was torrential. It came down in sheets, instantly soaking her blouse.

"No car," Buna yelled from the foyer. "Villarreal cars are for family. She walks."

Giselle gripped the handle of her suitcase. The driveway was long. A mile to the main gate.

She started walking. The wind whipped her hair across her face, blinding her. The cold rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. Her shoes squelched in the puddles.

Halfway down the drive, the wheel of her suitcase caught in a crack in the cobblestones. She yanked it. The handle snapped. The suitcase tipped over, spilling her humble clothes into the mud.

Giselle stopped. She stared at her clothes soaking in the dirty water.

She fell to her knees. The dam broke. She sobbed, the sound torn from her throat, lost in the roar of the storm. She gathered her muddy sweaters, hugging them to her chest. She was twenty-three years old, and she had nothing. No family. No money. No husband.

High above, in the master bedroom window, Joseph stood in the dark. He watched the small figure collapse in the rain. He pressed his hand against the cold glass. His chest ached with a strange, hollow pain he couldn't name. It felt like a phantom limb syndrome, an ache for something that was no longer there.

Giselle stood up. She shoved the wet clothes back into the broken case. She wiped the mud and tears from her face.

Survive, she told herself. Just survive.

She dragged the case the rest of the way. She reached the iron gates. They opened slowly.

She stepped out onto the public road. It was pitch black.

Then, blinding white light flooded her vision.

---

Continue to next part

I ran through the freezing rain, desperate to escape the Pennington estate. My adoptive family had raised me for one purpose: to be sold off as a bargaining chip in a wealthy arranged marriage. But before I could reach the highway, I was cornered. Not just by my family's cruel guards, but by Hollis Wall—a terrifying, ruthless billionaire who snapped my tormentor's wrist and dragged me into his car. He didn't want a ransom. He threw a prenuptial agreement in my lap. I thought he was insane until he took a scalpel to his own arm, and a burning agony ripped across my flawless skin. Because of a near-drowning accident three years ago, our nervous systems were linked. Every time I bled, he felt the agony. He locked me in his fortress to keep me safe, but when I finally escaped back to my adoptive parents, they didn't protect me. Instead, my adoptive father smiled and showed me a live video of my biological father on life support, a guard's hand hovering over the plug. "You will marry Douglas Cherry tomorrow, or your father dies," he sneered. My own family was willing to murder my only real flesh and blood just to secure their wealth. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor, my heart crushed in a vice of absolute, suffocating despair. "I'll marry him," I sobbed, surrendering to the darkness. But miles away, in his dark study, the ruthless Hollis Wall violently collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as my severe panic attack bled directly into his chest. Our twisted bond was killing him, and I knew he would tear the city apart to find me.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

I Hid His Heir from My Alpha

8.2

For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond. That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession. The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me. The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed. "You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me." My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.

Billionaire Romance Werewolf

8.9

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

8.9

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.5

Reborn As The Billionaire's Wife：The Despised Wife Shines On Live TV

8.5

Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her. Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit. The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg. "A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother." The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty? The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.3

Regret: Rejecting His Billionaire Supreme Mate

8.3

I spent three months in Zurich securing banking rights for my family's pack. I couldn't wait to give my five-year-old daughter, Lily, the rare Starlight Moonstone Beast I’d bought to soothe her shifting pains. But before I landed, I saw a photo online: my husband's "distant nephew" was playing with that very toy in my living room. I rushed to the Pack Academy, only to find a teacher raising a riding crop laced with wolfsbane against my child. Instead of protecting us, my husband, Austyn, stepped out with a woman wearing my furs and my grandmother’s emerald necklace. He told the gathered crowd I was a mental patient having a delusion. He hugged his mistress and announced she was the true Luna, claiming our marriage was a mistake and publicly rejecting our bond. For five years, I had suppressed my Supreme Alpha aura to let him feel powerful, funding his lifestyle and building his reputation. In return, he brainwashed my pack, abused my daughter, and tried to cast me out as a beggar in my own queendom. He thought he had won because he believed his own lies about my weakness. But when his illegitimate son threw a rock that drew blood from my daughter’s face, my patience snapped. I stopped suppressing my scent, and my eyes turned molten gold. "This is not a dispute, Austyn. This is an execution."

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.2

Sold To The Devil I Ruined

7.2

Fitzgerald Woodard was the "stray" I used to torment in prep school, a boy I once paid to kneel in the mud for my amusement. Now, the tables have turned, and he’s the billionaire who bought my father’s debt, dragging me into his mansion as a "personal asset" listed in a contract I never read. He didn't just want the money back; he wanted to see me break. He stood over me in the rain and told me he owned the very machines keeping my father alive, and with one flick of his thumb, he could stop his breathing forever. The nightmare escalated until I didn't recognize myself. He forced me to eat cold soup off the floor like an animal and gripped my hand over a heavy hammer, forcing me to crush a young guard's bones just to prove I was as much of a monster as he was. His childhood sweetheart, a nurse I once humiliated, stood in the shadows, whispering that I was nothing more than a used-up toy he was already bored of. I lay on the cold marble, shivering from a fever he refused to treat, realizing that the curse he placed on me years ago had finally come true. Every act of cruelty I had ever committed was being repaid with interest, and the man I once looked down on was now the only god I had left to pray to. Suddenly, he threw me out into the freezing night with nothing but rags on my back and a shattered phone. The hospital called with an ultimatum: fifty thousand dollars by noon, or they pull the plug on my father’s life support. Standing barefoot on the biting asphalt, I watched his black SUV disappear into the dark. I have nine hours to save the only person I love, and only one way to get the money. I have to go back and kneel before the devil I created.

Billionaire Modern Romance

The Discarded Wife Is A Billionaire

Chapter 2

You may also like