The Hideous Wife Is A Billion-Dollar Princess

A faint sound from the entryway shattered the stillness of the night.

Leyla had just stepped out of the bathroom, droplets of water clinging to her damp hair. Looking toward the door, she said softly, "You're back."

Kristopher stood in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

Instinctively, Leyla gripped the sleeve of her nightgown. "I need to talk to you about something—"

Before she could finish, Kristopher strode over and seized her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The scar that ran from her left eyebrow to her cheek caught the light, its jagged edges standing in stark contrast to the delicate beauty she had once possessed.

"You want to talk?" Kristopher's voice was quiet, but every word carried a chilling edge. "Leyla, since when did you learn to play these little games with me?"

"I wasn't..." Leyla tried to explain.

She never got the chance to finish. Kristopher caught her wrist and pulled her toward him. She lost her balance and slammed into his chest.

With his free hand, Kristopher grabbed the collar of her nightgown and tore it open. Buttons flew in every direction, bouncing across the polished floor.

Startled, Leyla shoved against him with all her strength. "What are you doing? Stop!"

"Enough with the performance." Kristopher's lips curled in disdain as he looked at her as if she were beneath him.

"Why else would you insist on me coming home tonight? Isn't this exactly what you've been after? One night with me every month—that's what you've asked for, isn't it?"

Leyla froze.

So, that was what the matter meant to him. Just another monthly obligation.

Three years of swallowing her pride and sacrificing everything, yet she had never earned even the smallest trace of his affection.

If this was all their marriage amounted to, there was no reason to keep holding on.

"Kristopher," Leyla said quietly, her eyes meeting his, "let's get a divorce."

Kristopher's movements stilled for a second. A faint crease formed between his brows. "What did you just say?"

Without wavering, Leyla repeated, "Let's get a divorce."

Kristopher tugged impatiently at his tie, annoyance flashing across his face. "A divorce?" His voice was emotionless, almost mocking. "Leyla, what ridiculous stunt are you pulling this time?"

"I'm being serious." Leyla's tone remained calm and unwavering. "The woman you truly love is back. I'm giving you your freedom. You can be together with her."

Kristopher's expression darkened instantly, his eyes turning dangerously cold. "Stop pretending. You don't even have the courage to walk out of this house. If we divorce, where exactly can you go?"

His words struck with brutal precision.

To everyone else, she was nothing more than the scarred woman he kept hidden from the public—someone locked inside a gilded cage.

She had no career, no social life, no financial independence.

She didn't deserve to be with him at all.

Leyla lowered her gaze before answering evenly, "That's my concern, not yours."

Kristopher narrowed his eyes.

For three years, she had always been gentle and obedient.

This composed, distant version of her was completely unfamiliar to him.

"Leyla," Kristopher warned, his tone growing colder, "this little game of playing hard to get has gone on long enough."

Leyla didn't reply.

Just then, the sharp ring of a phone cut through the suffocating silence.

Kristopher glanced at his phone screen. The frost in his eyes melted away in an instant. He answered the call immediately. "Phoebe? What happened?"

The concern in his voice was unmistakable. As he listened, his expression softened even further. "Don't be scared," he said gently. "I'll be there right away."

The call then ended. Without sparing Leyla so much as another glance, Kristopher turned and walked out of the room.

He was convinced Leyla would never leave him.

After all, for the past three years, she never had.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him, leaving Leyla alone in the space.

She sat motionless on the edge of the bed, staring into the emptiness for what felt like an eternity.

Then, her phone suddenly vibrated.

A message from an unknown number lit up her screen.

"He came to see me again."

Attached was a candid photo of Kristopher.

A gentle smile curved his lips, and his eyes brimmed with warmth—a tenderness Leyla had never once seen directed at her.

Before Leyla could process it, another message popped up.

"I told him there might be reporters outside, and he rushed over without a second thought. He was so worried about me. Oh, and he bought me 'Angel's Heart' at today's auction. I even suggested he pick out something for you, but he said there was no need. I suppose he is right. Only beautiful women should wear jewelry. With a face like yours, it would only go to waste. Leyla, he only married you because he had no choice. I've always been the one he truly loves."

Leyla stared at the message, and a cold laugh escaped her lips.

Every sentence was another knife twisting in her wounds. It finally dawned on her that the man who had treated her with indifference for three long years could be so gentle and attentive to another woman.

Without the slightest hesitation, Leyla typed a reply.

"You want Kristopher? A used man like him suits you perfectly. The two of you deserve each other—two shameless people cut from the same cloth. Do everyone a favor and stay together forever, so neither of you gets the chance to ruin anyone else's life."

She sent it, then immediately blocked the number.

"Kristopher..." she murmured with a bitter smile. "From now on, we are even."

The next day.

Leyla placed the signed divorce agreement on the bedside table.

She wasn't taking anything from Kristopher. All she wanted was a clean end to their marriage.

With nothing but a small suitcase in hand, she walked out of Prime Estate.

Three years had passed, yet she had never managed to earn Kristopher's love.

It was time to stop trying.

The moment she stepped through the estate's front gate, a limited-edition extended Rolls-Royce glided to a stop before her.

The rear door swung open, and a tall figure stepped out.

The instant Leyla saw her eldest brother, Damien Holden, tears rushed uncontrollably into her eyes. "Damien..." Her voice trembled. "I've signed the divorce papers."

For three years, she had buried every grievance, every humiliation, forcing herself to endure a loveless marriage. But the moment she saw her brother, all her emotions came crashing down.

"Leyla, congratulations on getting your freedom." Damien wrapped her in a warm embrace, his voice filled with concern. "It's time to be yourself again."

He gently stroked her hair before smiling. "Welcome home."

In truth, Leyla was the youngest daughter of the prestigious Holden family, one of Wrafham's most wealthy and influential households. Since childhood, she had carried her mother's surname.

Now that she had left the divorce papers for Kristopher, she was finally returning home.

Before leaving, she had already hacked into the Gordon family's surveillance system and erased every trace of her existence from their records.

From this day forward, the so-called "Mrs. Gordon" no longer existed. Only Leyla Thorpe, the cherished daughter of the Holden couple, remained.