Trading My Cheating Husband for a Billionaire Tycoon

Café air-conditioning blasted at full power, but Jennie Lawson felt unbearably hot, as if a fire had started in her chest and burned all the way up to her throat.

Three items sat neatly on the table in front of her.

A marriage certificate.

A divorce certificate.

A paternity test.

And across from her sat the last person she ever expected to meet this way: her husband’s ex-wife. Jennie had never imagined William Simmons had been married before.

He once told her he feared marriage, but if it was her, he would be willing. If it was anyone else, he would rather stay single forever.

She had actually believed him.

Jennie’s gaze dropped to the date on the paternity report.

Six months ago.

Everything suddenly made sense. His business trips had increased, sometimes lasting half a month. She remembered the night she was rushed to the hospital with acute gastritis. William abandoned her to catch a flight, and the doctor said that if she had come any later, she might have perforated her stomach.

Yet the message he sent that night was simply: Good thing I made the flight.

Now she knew. His so-called business trips were spent raising a child with his ex-wife.

The truth left her faint and numb. She lifted her head, face blank, and asked in a dry voice, “What do you want?”

Wendy Reynolds smiled softly. She lifted her cup, took a slow sip, then tapped her phone and said lightly, “I heard your birthday is tomorrow. Let me give you a present.”

William’s voice came through the speaker.

“When did I ever say I liked Jennie? Wendy, you know I only love you. I only married her because I pitied her. Who knew she would cling to me like a dog. Just looking at her makes me feel sick. I can’t even get hard.”

A sharp pain stabbed straight through Jennie’s heart.

He had chased her relentlessly. He had begged her for a chance. How did that turn into her clinging to him?

As if the knife were not deep enough, Wendy’s fingers brushed the pale curve of her neck.

The love bites blooming there felt like a slap across Jennie’s face.

Jennie suddenly remembered all the lingerie she had bought, all the nights she had approached him only for him to turn her down with, “Work is exhausting.”

He had claimed he respected her. Loved her.

But the truth was simpler. He just did not want her.

Four years. Four ridiculous, humiliating years.

He hadn’t even bothered to give her a shred of dignity.

Now his ex-wife, the woman who had slept with him and birthed his child during their marriage, had the nerve to show up with that child and mock her.

Blood rushed to Jennie’s head. Her vision blurred. She grabbed the iced water on the table, knuckles white, whole body trembling.

She was seconds away from throwing the entire glass at Wendy’s smug face when a tiny hand appeared beside her.

A small, chubby hand holding a cherry covered in whipped cream.

The two-year-old girl next to Wendy tilted her soft, round face up at Jennie. Her big dark eyes were clear and innocent. Her voice was sweet and babyish.

“Auntie Jennie, fruit. Eat.”

Jennie snapped back to herself. Her fingers tightened on the glass.

She closed her eyes and took a long breath.

She could not throw it.

No matter how hurt she was, she could not do something like that in front of a child who understood nothing.

She lifted the glass instead and swallowed a mouthful of ice water. The cold forced her tears back.

Wendy watched her struggle to hold herself together. Satisfaction glinted in her eyes. She finally felt vindicated. These days, William had actually rejected her several times because he was preparing Jennie’s birthday surprise. Wendy had been furious.

Her phone rang. She answered with a bright smile.

“Yes, William?”

Whatever he said, her smile widened. She glanced at Jennie as if delivering a message straight to her chest.

“You like black the most, don’t you? Why ask me that? What do you mean am I doing it on purpose?”

Her voice softened.

“All right, all right, I will come and try it on for you. And behave this time. The fitting room has cameras.”

She hung up and said sweetly, “Sorry. You were not supposed to hear that.”

Jennie’s eyes burned. She clenched her fist until her nails cut into her palm.

“Talking like that in public. You two are disgusting.”

Wendy lifted a brow. “That is disgusting? Go home and check your cameras. Just don’t cry when you see it.”

Jennie slammed her palm against the table. “Wendy!”

The little girl flinched and clung to Wendy.

Wendy gently soothed her. “It is all right, Jasmine. Auntie Jennie is just clapping because she is happy.”

Jasmine blinked up at Jennie, clapped her tiny hands, and chirped, “Auntie Jennie, clap clap.”

Jennie exhaled shakily and swallowed her rage.

Wendy tidied up Jasmine’s face, wiped off the cream, and placed the crushed cherry back on the plate.

Then she deliberately slid the half-eaten cake toward Jennie.

“Your husband misses me. We are done with this cake, so please do not waste it.”

She picked up the girl.

“Jasmine, say goodbye.”

The child beamed, showing her tiny baby teeth, and waved enthusiastically. “Bye bye, Auntie Jennie!”

Wendy left with Jasmine on her hip, heels clicking, hips swaying like a queen walking off her victory.

Only when they disappeared did Jennie’s body finally loosen.

She forced back the ache in her throat, but her tears still slipped out.

She picked up her water glass and slowly poured the rest over the cake.

The cream melted into a soggy mess.

Just like her four wasted years.

Minutes later, her phone vibrated.

William:

I have a dinner meeting tonight. I will be back late. Go to bed first.

Jennie stared at the screen, jaw clenched.

Another message popped up.

I love you, baby. Tomorrow I am all yours.

Tomorrow was her twenty-fifth birthday.

It was also their third wedding anniversary.

Three years ago, he had knelt before her father overseas and sworn he would love only her for the rest of his life.

She believed him.

And what did she get? A husband with a two-year-old daughter born during their marriage.

What a joke.

Jennie had no idea how she made it back to the hotel. She ordered room service and soon dozens of bottles of liquor filled the coffee table.

She twisted open a bottle of whiskey and drank straight from it.

The burn traveled down her throat and tore through her stomach, but it still did not match the pain in her chest.

Bottle after bottle.

Her tears mixed with the alcohol and left a bitter, salty taste.

When she finally had no more tears left and no strength to even gag, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

Jennie collapsed on the bed, curled up like a small wounded animal licking its own wounds.

She fumbled for her phone. The screen lit up with their wedding photo.

“William Simmons…”

Her voice choked, thick with grief.

“You bastard. I am divorcing you.”

Those were her last words before everything went black.

Some time later, the door clicked. Heavy footsteps stumbled into the room. A tall figure entered, cold air rolling off him.

He approached the bed.

Jennie frowned in her sleep.

The mattress dipped.

A hot body pressed down on her.

She let out a small pained sound. Before she could open her eyes, a mouth covered hers.

Her breath vanished.

She could not even inhale.