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The Jilted Wife's Billionaire Heiress Comeback Novel Cover

The Jilted Wife's Billionaire Heiress Comeback

I woke up alone in a cold hospital room after a near-fatal car crash. My husband of three years, Bryant, claimed he was too busy with back-to-back meetings to visit me. But when I dragged my bruised body into the hallway, I caught him pinning his pregnant mistress against a vending machine. "As soon as my company IPOs next month, I'm dumping my useless wife." "She's so pathetic. She'd be living on the streets if it wasn't for my charity." For three years, Bryant and his mother had humiliated me for being an orphan, treating me like a penniless burden while he secretly bought a multi-million-dollar townhouse for his new family. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I had almost died in that wreckage, yet my husband was disgusted by my very existence, eagerly waiting to throw me away. But Bryant didn't know about the damp, sealed envelope the paramedics had recovered from my wrecked car. The DNA report inside proved I wasn't a nobody from the gutter. I was the biological daughter of the Beaumonts—New York's wealthiest, most ruthless billionaire dynasty. I didn't scream or confront them. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone, recorded their affair in high definition, and dialed a Wall Street financier I hadn't spoken to in years. "I'm done playing the happy housewife. Pull his algorithmic backdoors and drain the accounts."
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Chapter 7

The credit card terminal beeped loudly. The harsh, electronic sound cut through the tense silence of the designer floor.

Chloe, the sales associate, looked at the digital screen. Her eyes widened slightly before she quickly masked her expression with professional neutrality.

"I apologize, Ms. Vance," Chloe said politely. "The bank has placed a temporary security hold on the transaction due to the unusually high amount."

Tiffany's face turned a blotchy, ugly red. Her public embarrassment instantly morphed into loud, defensive anger.

She snatched her phone from her designer purse. Her fingers jabbed at the screen as she furiously dialed her wealth manager. "Release the funds immediately!" she screamed into the receiver.

Ava watched the meltdown with a serene, almost bored expression. Her fingertip continued to lightly trace the edge of the display case.

Kadence shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. She leaned in, whispering frantically. "Tiffany, people are staring. This is drawing too much attention."

"Shut up!" Tiffany snapped at Kadence. She yelled back into her phone, threatening to close all her accounts if the hold wasn't lifted in ten seconds.

After a tense, agonizing minute, Tiffany shoved her phone back into her bag. She aggressively tapped the platinum card against the terminal again.

The machine processed for a few seconds. Then, it printed out a long, continuous receipt, signaling the successful charge of over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

Tiffany ripped the receipt from the machine. She waved it triumphantly in Ava's face, a smug, victorious grin stretching across her lips. "I own the dress and the clutch. This proves I belong in the elite circle. You belong in the gutter."

Ava didn't flinch. She merely offered a slow, patronizing clap that echoed softly in the high-ceilinged room.

"Congratulations on your purchase," Ava said, her voice dripping with icy, calculated sarcasm.

Ava then turned her gaze to Chloe. "Could you please clearly state the store's return policy on custom runway pieces?"

Chloe cleared her throat. She spoke loudly enough for the gathering crowd of wealthy patrons to hear. "All runway and custom items are strictly final sale. No exceptions, no refunds."

Tiffany's triumphant smile faltered. A flicker of genuine financial panic flashed in her eyes as the reality of the non-refundable, six-figure charge set in.

Ava stepped closer to Tiffany. She lowered her voice so only Tiffany and Kadence could hear her next words.

"It's a shame you spent so much liquid cash," Ava murmured casually. She let a beat of silence pass, watching Tiffany's bravado falter. "Considering the confidential Wall Street intelligence Mr. Price just forwarded to my phone, indicating that your father's hedge fund is currently under active investigation by the SEC for wire fraud."

Tiffany physically recoiled. Her jaw dropped open. She stared at Ava in absolute horror, her breathing turning shallow. How could a nobody know her family's highly classified, devastating secret?

Ava didn't give her time to recover. She shifted her cold gaze to Kadence, locking onto the mistress's slightly rounded stomach.

"You have a glowing complexion, Kadence," Ava noted smoothly. "Is Bryant's secret Tribeca townhouse comfortable enough for the upcoming nursery?"

Kadence gasped loudly. She took a stumbling step backward, her hands flying instinctively to cover her stomach. The blood drained completely from her face.

Kadence realized with sheer, paralyzing terror that Ava knew absolutely everything. The affair, the pregnancy, the hidden real estate.

Desperate to escape the psychological torture, Kadence grabbed Tiffany's arm. "We need to leave. Right now!" she pleaded, her voice cracking.

Tiffany, humiliated and financially trapped, shook off Kadence's hand violently. She refused to retreat and look weak in front of the whispering crowd.

She pointed a shaking finger at Ava. "You are just a bitter, jealous liar trying to ruin my day!"

Tiffany demanded that Chloe pack up her items immediately. "I am taking my business to the Private Client Suite! Where trash like you isn't allowed!"

Ava crossed her arms. A genuine smile finally reached her eyes as she watched Tiffany march aggressively toward the restricted VIP area.

She leaned in and softly told Kadence, "You better follow your friend. Because the real show is just about to begin behind those velvet ropes."

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