The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire Heiress
9.5 / 10.0
Share
On the anniversary of her son's death, Audrey stood in the freezing cemetery for two hours, waiting for her husband.
Instead, his best friend showed up, claiming her husband was tied up with their daughter's emergency. But on her way home, Audrey caught sight of her husband, their daughter Willow, and another woman walking together.
She followed them to a luxury apartment that perfectly replicated her and her husband's humble first home.
Through a crack in the door, she watched her husband passionately kiss the woman.
She watched his best friend hand the mistress expensive gifts.
And she watched her own daughter happily eat cake and say, "Thank you, Mommy Kelsey."
When Audrey returned to her empty mansion, her daughter threw a massive tantrum, screaming that she wished Kelsey was her real mom.
The cruelest part was realizing the mistress was using Audrey's joint credit card to buy Willow's affection.
Her husband, her daughter, and her trusted friend had formed a flawless circle of betrayal. They were playing a happy family while she mourned her dead child alone. She had signed a brutal prenuptial agreement giving up everything for love, only to be treated like a pathetic joke.
But they didn't know the quiet, accommodating housewife was actually the hidden heir to the thirty-billion-dollar Carlisle empire.
Audrey left her diamond ring on the counter alongside a divorce settlement, activated her inheritance, and walked out.
"First step," she told her proxy. "We bleed his stock dry, and we dismantle his legacy piece by piece."
The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire Heiress Chapter 1
The wind whipped through the rows of granite headstones, carrying a sharp bite that settled deep into Audrey Bishop's bones.
She pulled the collar of her black trench coat tighter against her neck. Her fingers were stiff, the skin pale and numb from the November chill. She stood completely still, her boots sinking slightly into the damp, freezing earth of the private Long Island cemetery.
She leaned down. Her knees popped in the quiet air.
She placed a bouquet of pure white roses against the cold base of the headstone. Her bare fingertips traced the carved letters of the name.
Cole Christian.
Her chest tightened. A familiar, suffocating pressure built behind her ribs, making it hard to pull oxygen into her lungs. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down.
She straightened her back and lifted her left wrist. The metal of her watch was like ice against her skin.
Three o'clock.
Two full hours had passed since the time they had agreed upon. Two hours of standing in the freezing wind, staring at her dead son's name.
Audrey reached into her deep coat pocket and pulled out her phone. The screen lit up, illuminating her pale face. There were no missed calls. There were no text messages. The notification center was completely blank.
She took a shallow breath, her chest aching, and dialed Colton Christian's private number.
She held the phone to her ear. The plastic was freezing.
One ring. Two rings. Three. Four. Five.
The line clicked, and the mechanical, heartless voice of the automated voicemail system filled her ear.
"I am waiting for you."
She spoke the words mechanically, her voice rough and dry. She pressed the end button and dropped the phone back into her pocket.
A dead, brown leaf blew across the grass and landed directly on the pristine petals of the white roses. Audrey knelt again and brushed it away. Her hand lingered over the flowers for a second longer.
Then, she heard it.
The distinct, rhythmic crunch of tires rolling over the gravel path behind her.
Audrey's heart slammed against her ribs. A sudden rush of heat flooded her frozen veins. She spun around, her eyes wide, searching the long, winding road leading to the burial site.
A black car pulled up and shifted into park.
Audrey's shoulders instantly dropped. The heat drained from her body, leaving her colder than before. It wasn't Colton's silver Aston Martin. It was a black Mercedes sedan.
The driver's side door opened. A man stepped out into the freezing wind. He was wearing a dark, custom-tailored suit. He popped open a large black umbrella and began walking toward her.
Jerry Barrera.
Audrey's stomach sank. Jerry was Colton's closest friend, his right-hand man in the social circles, and supposedly, one of the few people Audrey could tolerate in her husband's world. But seeing him here, right now, made a sour taste rise in the back of her throat.
Jerry walked up the gravel path, his expensive leather shoes crunching loudly. He stepped right up to Audrey and tilted the large umbrella, shielding her from the biting wind.
He held out a paper cup. Steam rose from the small opening in the plastic lid.
"Drink this, Audrey," Jerry said. His voice was thick with what sounded like sympathy. "You look like you're going to freeze to death."
Audrey took the cup. The heat burned her numb palms, but she gripped it tightly. Her knuckles turned stark white.
"Why isn't Colton here?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the wind.
Jerry let out a long, heavy sigh. He adjusted his grip on the umbrella handle, his eyes shifting away from hers for a fraction of a second.
"There was an emergency at the kindergarten," Jerry said. "Willow had a massive meltdown. Colton had to rush over there. You know how he is when it comes to her. He couldn't get away."
Audrey's fingers clamped down on the paper cup. The cardboard buckled under her grip, forming a deep dent. Hot coffee sloshed against the lid.
Her vision blurred for a second. The suffocating pressure in her chest turned into a sharp, stabbing pain.
"An emergency," Audrey repeated. She bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. "So, a living daughter throwing a tantrum is more important than a dead son?"
Jerry reached out with his free hand and patted her shoulder. The weight of his hand felt heavy and wrong.
"Audrey, seeing you like this truly breaks my heart," Jerry said, his voice dropping into a register of profound, practiced empathy. "Colton... he's under an immense amount of pressure lately. The corporate merger, Willow's behavioral issues... sometimes he handles his emotions like a fool. Maybe... maybe you two just need a little space to breathe."
Jerry reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket. He pulled out a crisp, white rectangular card and held it out to her.
"I know a phenomenal family relationship counselor in Manhattan," Jerry lied smoothly, his eyes conveying a sickeningly fake warmth. "Call him. Talk it out. Figure out what's best for your own mental health before this destroys you."
Audrey stared at the business card. The black ink seemed to blur against the white background. A wave of pure nausea rolled through her stomach.
She didn't reach for it.
Jerry didn't wait for her to accept it. He grabbed the edge of her trench coat and shoved the thick card deep into her pocket.
"Just take the help and go, Audrey," he muttered.
Audrey took a sudden, sharp step backward. She jerked her shoulder away, breaking physical contact with him. Her eyes, usually soft and accommodating, turned entirely cold.
She turned her back to Jerry and looked down at the granite headstone one last time.
"Mommy will come see you tomorrow," she whispered to the cold stone.
She didn't look at Jerry again. She walked past him, stepping out from under the shelter of the black umbrella, and headed straight into the freezing wind toward the parking lot. Her old Volvo was parked a quarter-mile away.
Jerry stood perfectly still next to the grave. He watched her retreating figure until she was just a dark speck against the gray sky.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and typed a quick text message. A cold, satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Continue Reading
The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire Heiress of Contents
New Release Novels
9.0
I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal.
Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer.
To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie.
I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative.
"We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates."
To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
8.3
On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.
8.5
Five years ago, Nina Hale lost everything... her family, her reputation, and the man she once loved. Betrayed by her own sister and abandoned by those she trusted most, she disappeared without a trace.
Now she's back.
With a new identity and a burning determination, Nina is ready to reclaim her life and chase the dream she once gave up: becoming a star actress. But her return awakens old enemies, and her scheming sister Lydia is determined to ruin her again.
Just when Nina thinks things can't get worse, she's caught in another trap... and unexpectedly crosses paths with a quiet, lonely little boy.
Ethan Grant hasn't spoken in years.
Feeling responsible for him, Nina agrees to stay and help the child come out of his shell. But she didn't expect Ethan's dangerously charming father, Lucas Grant, to enter the picture.
Cold, powerful, and impossible to read, Lucas slowly finds himself drawn to the woman who brightens his son's world.
What begins as a simple act of kindness soon turns into something far more complicated, because Nina came back for revenge.
She never planned to fall in love.
**********
"I saw you with him," Lucas said quietly, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
Nina exhaled, crossing her arms. "You don't get to care."
"Don't I?" He stepped in, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
"This is just a contract."
"Then why does it bother me?" His hand hovered near her waist, not touching-yet.
"It shouldn't." Her breath faltered.
His gaze darkened, "And yet it does."
8.6
Today was my father's grand second wedding, but for me, it was the anniversary of my mother's death.
My new stepmother, Marley, who was only four years older than me, cornered me. To establish her dominance as the new Luna, she ordered her servants to force me to my knees and violently ripped my late mother's necklace from my neck.
It was the only memento my mother had left me. Marley sneered, threw it to the ground, and shattered the gems. When I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces, she dug her high-heeled shoe into the back of my hand, mocking me as dirty trash. No one stepped in to help. My father was too busy celebrating his new marriage under the dazzling lights, completely erasing my mother's memory and leaving me to be abused in my own pack.
My heart was full of grievance and despair. Why did my mother's lifelong devotion end with her grave desolate and her daughter humiliated? I swore I would never become a weak, discarded she-wolf whose life depended on a man.
Desperate to escape the suffocating wedding, I ran outside and stumbled right into the chest of a terrifying stranger.
"No one should ever touch what is precious to you."
His golden eyes blazed with fury as sparks instantly shot through my veins. He was Kade Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Blood Moon Pack—and my fated mate.
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
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.
![[Dubbed Version]The Last Spark of Kindness](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/54b012e95145403705286269287/xa2CN3UlRGwA.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
