The Wife He Abandoned Came Back As A Trillionaire Tycoon

Chapter 1

“This is your last warning, young lady. Divorce that man and come back to take your place as the rightful heiress of Lockwood House of Designs.” Wren read the text and ignored it. She had already told her grandfather countless times that she would never leave her husband just to take over his empire.

In Blake Hills Mansion, breakfast was already set by five in the morning—pancakes, eggs, bacon, and even a full bowl of chicken casserole. Everything had been specially prepared by Wren, wife of Blake Hills. She had done this every day for the past five years since she married him. Not once had she missed the routine. Not even on the days Blake almost always turned down her food.

Blake strode into the room, one hand clutching his briefcase, the other holding a crisp blue suit. His face was cold and rigid. When his eyes landed on a haggard-looking Wren, irritation bloomed beneath his skin.

“How many times have I warned you not to touch my clothes, Wren?” he snapped.

She jumped and spun around in fright. The ceramic bowl slipped from her hands and crashed onto her feet. The pain shot up her legs like a bolt of lightning, but she bit down on her lip and didn’t make a sound.

“I only wanted to help steam it for work,” she said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Since you woke up later today, I figured you might need the help. I’m sorry if it made you—”

“It makes me more than uncomfortable. You know how much I detest your scent. Now I’ll have to endure the rancid garlic and onion smell you’ve left on it,” he cut in, his voice scathing.

Wren’s heart wrenched at the coldness in his voice. The look in his eyes was even colder, piercing her soul like a thousand knives.

Instead of complaining, she simply smiled. “It’s fine. I won’t touch your clothes with my hands,” she told him as she walked toward him. “Today is your birthday. I would like it if you were in a good mood, please. Let’s forget about it.”

He cast a dark look at her as he took in her form. She wore a long, old white dress that was stained with grease and sauce. It was what she wore almost every day, and every single time, he fought the urge to burn it.

“Whatever. I’m going to work now. Don’t expect me anytime soon.”

He started to turn away, but Wren hurried over and stopped him with her hand. He looked at it with barely contained disgust.

“I’ve prepared meals for you. Please come eat… even if it’s just a little.”

“I don’t have an appetite,” he spat.

“I know. But I’ve prepared all this for you… just this once, please,” she said, her eyes soft and pleading.

His expression didn’t soften. Instead, it grew sharper.

Wren sighed. “Okay. If you won’t eat breakfast, will you at least come back early tonight? I would love it if we could celebrate your birthday together. We’ve never celebrated each other’s birthdays as a couple before.”

Blake let out an annoyed sound. “Quit the acting. You’re not my real wife. This is only an agreement. Besides…the contract ends in three months. Instead of doing everything to make me fall in love with you, you should be getting ready to sign the divorce papers!”

Tears immediately welled at the corners of Wren’s eyes. So he had been counting down the days until they divorced. While she had been trying hard not to fall harder than she already had for him, he had been looking forward to the day they parted.

She clenched her fists, then wrapped her arms around her belly. 

She could have given up at this point. Let him walk out of the door and accept that her marriage would always be a farce. 

But she couldn't. Because now she didn't have only herself to think of. Now she didn’t just have her love to fight for. 

She now had a child—one she had been trying to have for the past five years.

Pushing back any form of pride, she fell to her knees. Blake raised a brow the moment he saw this.

“What are you doing?”

“Begging. I will do whatever it takes. Just give us this one time.” She swallowed. “This will be our last year together. I just want the chance to do this one thing for you. I promise that after this birthday dinner, I will never ask anything from you again. Not your love. Not your time. I will even sign the divorce papers the moment the contract is up. Just let me have this one birthday with you, Blake.”

Blake stayed silent for a second, his eyes never leaving her. What is this woman up to now? he thought. Does she think that spending this one night together will make me magically fall for her?

He shook his head. Whatever. She had promised to sign the divorce papers when the time was up without any tantrums. That was all he could ever ask for. Though he doubted Wren would let go so easily. She had been like a leech on him over the years, showering him with love and affection like a woman obsessed.

“Okay. It’s just dinner. I’ll be back by seven tonight. Just prepare something simple—I won’t eat much.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving her kneeling on the cold tile floor.

Though her husband’s words had sounded forced, Wren felt as if the heavens had finally opened above her. A lone tear of joy slipped down her cheek.

She stood up and wrapped her arms around her belly again, a bright smile on her face. “Yes, baby. Your daddy will find out about you tonight. Tonight, he will realize that this family is too beautiful to lose.”

In the past five years, Wren had conceived three times, and every time she had miscarried in the third month. 

But just yesterday, she had found out she was pregnant again and this one, she felt, would be different. This child had come as a blessing—one that would mend the broken pieces of her marriage.

Throughout the day, she prepared a simple yet lavish meal for her husband’s birthday. By the time she finished hand-pressing the last batch of fresh orange juice, it was already seven in the evening.

Just as she was about to head to her room to freshen up, a knock sounded at the door at exactly 7:05. 

Wren hurried to open it. She believed her husband must have been looking forward to this small celebration too, seeing that he had almost perfectly kept to time.

A bright smile lit her face as she rubbed her still-flat belly and opened the door. The moment her eyes fell on the people in front of her, the smile vanished instantly.

“Hi, Mrs. Hills. We’ve come to celebrate Blake’s birthday with him. Hope you don’t mind?” Carlos, one of Blake’s longtime friends, said. 

He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he pushed his way in, shoving her aside as if she were invisible.

But it wasn’t his rude manner that caught Wren’s attention. Neither was it the two other men who walked into her house, each carrying packs of beer and expensive wine.

No, what made her stomach sink was her husband, Blake, who walked in last, holding the hand of a lady she knew all too well.

Diana Vance.