Billionaire's Revenge: The Ex wife's rise

Jane POV.It was my wedding anniversary. A three-year journey with Damien Blair. Getting married to Damien was the best thing that ever happened to me. I have always had this fairy tail since when I was young, to have a grand wedding and a perfect home. With Damien everything became easyI clocked off work and made a quick stop at the store to pick up the cake I had ordered a few days before now. After a few hours of driving, I finally approached the house, one of the biggest mansions, centered at the top of a hill in New Yor"Babe!" I gently pushed the door open, walking into the empty living room. I felt a bit disappointed, realizing my husband hadn't returned from work. I dropped the cake on the dining table before I found my way up the stairs"Ahn! Oh, mine!" My steps halted. "Oh! Just like that!" It was not just an ordinary sound, more like the one where two people are making out. I didn't want to believe what I heard, maybe my ear was beginning to hear other things. Gr

Jane PovThe warm sun shone on my face as I stood outside my parent's home, my gear ponding in my chest. Today was my day off and even though the strange man had advised me to stay back and get on with myself before making issues complicated again, I had insisted on coming here.Pleading for him to please stay out of it now.It has been weeks since I last stepped into this place but it felt like yesterday.There was never a reason to laugh anyways. Always being mistreated and used. My fingers nervously raised over the doorbell as I pressed on it. The chime echoed faintly Inside, followed by little voices. The door opened, and I found myself face to face with my stepmother.“Jane,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing in surprise and disgust filling it back . “What are you doing here?” I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “I need to speak with my father.” She hesitated, but then stepped aside, muttering something under her breath. I stepped inside, the familiar scent of the hous

Jane's POVThe night is so vividly remembered: darkness, black, devouring the last remnant of comforting city light as I drove home alone down the dark country roads from work. My head reeled on the happenings of the day—the whisper of deception and shadow of my broken past. I had hardly noticed the gentle purr of the car engine above the din in my head before the car's headlights flashed on and a fear that could not be dispelled surrounded me in an instant. I was shaken before I knew it, with a clasp of hardened hand on my car door.The consequence was instantaneous—a shove that shoved the car into the ditch. My heart jumped into my chest and I clasped with a grip at the wheel, but in the blink of an eye wild chaos had been loosed. The steering wheel tore with brute ferocity as I attempted to sever the brakes, and before I could even know what was occurring, the car veered wildly and crashed nose-first into the darkness. I woke up in fright. My head was pounding, and my eyes hurt wit

Jane's POVHours since the hospital had fallen back after midnight into the quiet of the night. It was the same unearthly whine of equipment and muffled sounds of midnight nurses' solitary, ectoplasmic whispers on the horizon that held nothing to remind friendship was barren within the hospital anymore. I woke to dim lights, my mind spinning with Mae's latest revelations and the sinister undercurrents between us. The physical pain of injuries had receded to a dull throb, but internal pain—a searing of suspicion and betrayal…was still too fresh.I rolled onto my side, cradling my phone on the bedside table like a thin, tense lifeline. It vibrated softly, a jarring note in the stillness of the night. My heart dropped down my throat at the sight of the number on a stranger's phone I had never seen. I raised my trembling hand, to discover the purring sound of an answered recorded message. A low, soft voice cut through the darkness…a voice that I hated and loved with burning passion."Jane

Chapter 9 Jane's POVI went back to that frayed, threadbare old apartment of the past—the bedroom where my mother had slept and was filled with old photographs, lacy shreds of ornament, and the scent of books and dried lavender. Years had passed since I had ever been there in that single solitary room, but the memory still remained vividly in my mind, as if painted yesterday for the first time. I had made up my mind this afternoon to sort through her things, to dig up concealed clues within the remains of what was hers. I wanted to understand more about the woman who had ruled my childhood and maybe see the glimmers of the secrets that had followed me from the day she passed away.I pushed open the splintered front door after stepping into the half-dark hallway. Light threads slanted crookedly through torn curtains, blending with dancing motes of dust. With every step, memory sprang into being: my mother's low hum of laughter, her voice reading softly as she put me to bed, and the co