บททั้งหมดของ Betrayed By Husband And Son: Rise Of A Billionaire Wife : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

“Ethan, wake up, honey. It's time for school,” I said softly, gently shaking my 7-year-old son awake. “Fuck off, bitch,” he shrugged me off. I froze, my hand still lingering in mid-air. “Ethan, what did you just say?!” my voice trembled with shock and hurt. Did I hear him right? He sat up, crossing his arms as he glared at me. “You heard me the first time.” He raised his chin defiantly, “Daddy said I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” My heart squeezed, like air had been knocked out of my lungs. Was that what Ryan had been teaching our son? To disobey me? Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I processed Ethan’s cruel words – and Ryan’s apparent influence behind them. But I took a deep breath. It was too early to start screaming again. “Your classroom teacher told me you missed the test yesterday. She's giving you another chance today, so you can't miss–” Ethan rolled his eyes. "So what if I miss it? Daddy said grades don't matter if you have money." Ryan!! My

“Care to tell me how the design I sketched from start to finish ended up in the hands of a model, Ryan?” I spat, eyes blazing with suppressed fury as I waited impatiently for his excuse. All eyes had turned to us. Some even lifted up their phones, cameras flashing. I knew this was a bad idea. Kids were present, and this drama would make it to the media, considering my husband and Julia's profiles, but I didn't care. Those words got to me. The betrayal got to me. “What are you talking about now, Adele? This is a child's birthday. Can you not cause a scene?”“I don't care!” I yelled. This man was making me frustrated. “I just want the truth. Where did she get this dress? I made it. I designed it!” “How would I know? I'm not a fashion designer, nor am I into the fashion industry.” He sighed, “Adele, I know you're stressed from being a housewife, you've holed up in the house for years and clearly don't know how the world works. You aren't the only smart one. You're not the only one wh

Today was the fifth day since my divorce. I'd been searching for job openings online but no company wanted to hire me. Not even small establishments — once they saw my profile, they'd reject me outright. According to them, I had no relevant work experience – a 10-year gap in my resume thanks to being a devoted wife and mother.The rejection letters and emails all hinted at the same underlying reason: ‘Public records show you're recently divorced from Ryan Thompson.’And then the subtle suggestions would follow: ‘Concerns about potential distractions or media scrutiny affecting our workplace’. Or ‘Question marks over your mental stability given recent highly publicized family issues’. The drama at Sophia's birthday had made it to the press. As public figures, Julia and my husband were painted as the victims, while me was a mentally deranged neighbor and wife. Especially after my son and husband took sides with my bullies. My phone buzzed with a news alert: “Ryan Thompson Opens Up Ab

My heart squeezed in sympathy for him. Despite my silence to his words, I couldn't help wondering: ‘Who the hell drugged a man like this?’ This man wasn’t just some arrogant or second generation heir causing a scandal. This man was danger in human form. And someone had sent him here in this condition.Mark's gaze shifted between us, his brows furrowed slightly. Then, he opened his mouth to speak. “Excuse me, Mister, she's not–”However, I raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder. When he gazed back at me, I shook my head, discouraging him from speaking further. Perhaps, he heard the stranger's bizarre request. “But Adele…” “It's okay, Manager Mark,” I gave him a tight-lipped smile. I strongly believed that I was the reason their guests stood them up at the last minute. I should at least do something in return. Although the excuse sounded hollow even to me, I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. For the resort. For my freedom. For my job. For the man who clearly didn’t

The waves of the beach gently slamming against the shores, plus the combination of the morning sun filtering in through the parted curtains, stirred me awake. I blinked against the light, groggy and sore in all the places that told me last night had been real. Too real.A soft smile crept onto my lips. I finally felt like a woman after so long. But as I felt the space behind me, my hand grabbed the sheets. It was cold and empty.I sat up, the sheet slipping off my bare skin. I glanced down at it. I didn't remember covering myself last night.Did he draw the covers on me? Why is he? Then my gaze scanned the slightly luxurious room and my heart shuddered, noticing he was gone. I threw the sheets off, swung my legs down the side of the bed and dashed towards the bathroom, despite the ache in between my legs.He was gone. Just like that. No goodbyes, no message, no letter. I bit my bottom lip as I walked back to the bed, a lump forming in my throat. Shame finally washed over me like co