The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire
8.5 / 10.0
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As Aurora lay dying of organ failure in the freezing ICU, she used her last ounce of strength to call her husband on their son's fifth birthday.
Instead of his voice, she heard the pop of champagne and the sweet laugh of his mistress, Jessica.
Conrad snatched the phone, impatiently ordering Aurora not to "ruin the mood" with her irrelevant calls.
But what truly pushed her into cardiac arrest was her five-year-old son's excited voice ringing through the speakerphone.
"I wish for Auntie Jessica to be my new mommy!"
"As long as you like it, Daddy will give you anything," Conrad promised without a second of hesitation.
Aurora gagged on her own blood and flatlined, the heart monitor erupting into a piercing red alarm.
She had swallowed her pride and wasted five years playing the perfect, submissive housewife, only to be thrown away like garbage by the two people she loved most.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion ended with her dying completely alone on a sterile mattress.
But she didn't die. Snatched from the jaws of death by a mysterious billionaire from her past, she woke up in a luxury suite, fully healed.
Looking at her pale, cold reflection in the window, the pathetic old Aurora died.
She packed her battered suitcase, signed a brutal postnuptial agreement waiving every single cent of her husband's wealth, and dropped the divorce papers on the table.
This time, she was leaving for good.
The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire Chapter 1
The sharp, rapid beeping of the heart monitor sliced through the dead silence of the ICU.
Aurora struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt like they were weighed down by lead. A high fever blurred her vision into a smear of harsh white lights and sterile gray walls.
The duty nurse stepped up to the side of the bed. She adjusted the IV drip, her eyes dropping to Aurora's face. There was a thick layer of pity in the nurse's gaze that made Aurora's stomach turn.
"Mrs. Huffman," the nurse said softly, leaning down. "Your organ failure is progressing. Do you want me to call the emergency contact on your file?"
Aurora bit her pale, cracked lip. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her pride fought against the suffocating weight of her despair. Her fingers twitched against the thin hospital sheets, but she slowly, weakly, shook her head.
The nurse let out a heavy sigh. She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Aurora completely alone.
Aurora turned her head toward the window. The New York sky was a bleak, unforgiving gray. A violent spasm of pain ripped through her lower back and shot up her spine.
She curled her body inward. Cold sweat instantly soaked through her thin hospital gown, making her shiver uncontrollably.
Her blurred vision slowly focused on the nightstand. Her phone screen was lit up.
A calendar notification sat in the center of the screen. Today was her son Leo's fifth birthday.
The physical ache in her chest from missing her son suddenly overpowered her remaining pride. She reached out with her right arm. The IV needles taped to the back of her hand pulled painfully at her skin.
Her fingertips brushed the cold metal edge of the phone. Her muscles gave out, and the phone slipped, falling onto the very edge of the mattress.
Aurora clamped her jaw shut. She dragged her upper body toward the edge of the bed. Blood backed up into the clear IV tubing, but she didn't care. Her shaking fingers finally closed around the device.
She fell back against the pillow, gasping for air. Her lungs burned. Her thumb trembled as she unlocked the screen.
She opened her contacts and pressed Conrad Huffman's private number.
The dial tone rang in her ear. One ring. Two rings. Every empty beep was a needle scraping against her frayed nerves.
She was just about to let her arm drop when the line clicked open.
But it wasn't Conrad's voice. A wave of loud cheering and the distinct pop of a champagne bottle flooded the speaker.
Then, Jessica Camacho's sweet, high-pitched laugh stabbed directly into Aurora's eardrum.
"Conrad, hurry up! Come help Leo cut the cake!" Jessica yelled over the music.
Aurora's heart seized. It felt like an invisible fist had punched straight through her ribs and crushed her lungs. Her breath stopped entirely.
She forced her dry throat open. "Conrad," she whispered. The sound was so weak it barely left her mouth.
The background noise on the other end suddenly muffled. Jessica had noticed the active call.
"Is this Aurora?" Jessica asked. Her voice dripped with a sugary, exaggerated innocence.
Aurora gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned a dead, waxy white.
Conrad's impatient voice drifted in from a few feet away. "Who is it? Why haven't you hung up?"
Jessica raised her voice, making sure she sounded like the victim. "It's the hospital calling. I think it might be Aurora..."
A heavy, annoyed click of the tongue came through the speaker, followed by Conrad's heavy footsteps.
Conrad snatched the phone. His cold, hard voice was crystal clear. "Today is Leo's birthday. Don't let irrelevant people ruin the mood."
He didn't ask a single question about her condition. He didn't ask why the hospital was calling.
"Hang up," Conrad ordered. "And don't answer it again."
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The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire 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
New Release Novels
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
7.5
Ivy is the last heir of the fallen Highmoor Pack. At sixteen, she entered Silvercrest Pack by a blood contract and became the partner of Alpha heir Julian. For three years, she was loyal and silent, but never loved.
In a crisis, Julian abandoned her and chose Selena. Heartbroken, Ivy insisted on ending the contract. She refused Julian's gifts and threats, determined to regain freedom.
When Ivy was attacked, silver-eyed Silas Blackwood saved her. He is the powerful Lycan King, above all Alphas.
Ivy's wolf awakened and recognized Silas as her real fated mate.
Escaping Julian's control, Ivy broke free from her painful past. Protected by the Lycan King, she regained dignity and strength.
The abandoned Luna finally rises, embracing her true destiny and love.
8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
7.2
Stepping out of the women's correctional center, Karli took her first breath of freedom in three years.
But the luxury SUV waiting for her didn't bring her home. Instead, her adoptive parents tossed a prenuptial agreement onto her lap.
They demanded she marry a violently unhinged, disfigured man so their company could secure a massive commercial deal.
When she refused, her adoptive mother slapped her hard across the face.
The blow brought back the suffocating nightmare from three years ago—how they had drugged her, framed her for a crime she didn't commit, and sent her to prison just so her stepsister could steal her fiancé.
Now, to break her again, her adoptive father ordered his bodyguards to drag her into the estate's freezing, pitch-black basement.
"You can rot in the dark without food or water until you sign that paper!"
Sitting on the damp cement, bleeding and shivering, a white-hot fury burned away Karli's panic.
They had stolen her youth, her reputation, and her grandfather's inheritance. She would rather die than be their sacrificial lamb again.
She smashed the basement window with a hammer, dragged her bleeding body through the shattered glass, and sprinted blindly into the stormy night.
Under the flickering neon sign of a convenience store, she grabbed the sleeve of a terrifyingly cold stranger.
"Are you single? Marry me right now."
She just needed a legal marriage to escape her family, entirely unaware she had just proposed to the most ruthless billionaire in Chicago.
8.2
In our beast world, females are treated as nothing more than precious breeding stock to keep the pack strong. As the pack's best Mender, I spent all my time focusing on my healing herbs, completely ignoring my maturity ritual.
But tonight, the blind pack elder grabbed my wrist and delivered a chilling ultimatum.
If I don't choose my mates by the next Full Moon, the Council of Elders will force a match and assign them to me.
The threat is already suffocating. Arrogant, elite warriors like Caleb Quinn are pacing outside my door like starving wolves, stalking my porch and using pack business to corner me. At home, the reality of multiple mates is even worse. My mother has two mates—my father, the strongest Alpha, and my cold, intellectual step-father. Their toxic, murderous jealousy turns our house into a daily war zone. They literally unleash suffocating killing intent on innocent cubs just for hugging my mother.
I am disgusted by this sick, possessive obsession. I refuse to let my life become a battlefield of jealous males fighting over who gets to guard my door, and I absolutely refuse to be forced into a harem by the Elders.
So, I made a declaration that shocked my entire family and broke every pack tradition.
"I will only ever take one mate."
And to make sure none of those predatory warriors can touch me, I set an impossible trap.
"Whoever wants me must defeat my father first."
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