All Chapters of The Rejected Wife Returns as a Billionaire Queen: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Crystal didn't sleep.She lay in a bed the size of her old apartment, staring at a ceiling painted with constellations that actually glowed—a detail her mother had commissioned from an artist in Florence when Crystal was only three. Her glasses sat on the nightstand. She had worn them since she was fifteen, the day she first realized that being seen was dangerous. The thick frames had been her shield. The baggy clothes had been her armor. The slouch had been her invisibility cloak. For twelve years, she had hidden.But no more. She was done hiding.The transformation began at eight o'clock sharp. The quiet of the East Wing was shattered by the arrival of a small army waiting in her private lounge. They came all at once: stylists, hair experts, makeup artists, and wardrobe assistants. A full team. The best in the world. They stood in perfect formation, their stations marked by leather cases and chrome carts."Miss Laurent." The eldest stepped forward—silver hair, sharp eyes, and hands

The executive elevator opened onto the fourteenth floor—the design atelier of Laurent Fashion. Crystal stepped out, her gold stilettos sinking into the plush charcoal carpet. Behind her, the elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss, cutting off the buzz of the lobby below.She was alone. No security detail past this point. Adrian’s rule: “In the atelier, you earn your place by hand, not by name.”The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with glass-encased displays of past Laurent masterpieces—runway pieces that had once stopped the world mid-breath.. She recognized them all—she’d studied every Laurent runway show from her cramped foster bedroom, sketching her own versions on cheap paper. Now she walked past them as the woman whose name was etched into the brass plate on the door at the end.Crystal Laurent, Executive Chair & Head of Design.She pushed open the door to her office and stopped.Luxury didn’t begin to describe it.The office was less a workspace and more a statement of pow

Ethan’s POVThe Day after she leftHow dare she? Crystal Reed—the mousy, silent girl my grandmother had forced upon me—had actually walked out. She just wanted attention. She wanted me to chase her so she could feel like more than just a placeholder in this mansion."She’ll be back in forty-eight hours," I had told Mark with a cold smirk. "When her bank account runs dry and reality hits her, she’ll come crawling back to me."After a weekI told myself I was relievedShe was gone. The invisible wife who haunted his hallways like a ghostGood, I thought, pouring himself a whiskey at 6 AM. Freedom.Savannah had come over the next morning. She'd found him in the kitchen, staring at the empty counter where the coffee should have been."Good riddance," Savannah said, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "She was dragging this family down. A temp girl with delusions of grandeur."I said nothing."Vanessa called," Savannah continued, her voice too bright. "She's worried about you. Says yo

The funeral was three days later.The entire city came. CEOs. Politicians. Socialites who had never met Eleanor but wanted to be seen at her funeral. The church was packed with people in black, their faces arranged in expressions of performative grief.Ethan stood at the front, alone.Savannah sat in the front row, crying into a handkerchief. He hadn't spoken to her since the phone call. The priest spoke about Eleanor's life. Her accomplishments. Her charity work. Her devotion to her family.Ethan listened—partly. His mind kept drifting back to the last conversation he had with his grandmother. Her words echoed in his skull like a sermon he couldn't escape.That girl was never ordinary.She always reminded me of someone.What had Eleanor meant? Who had Crystal reminded her of?And why did it matter now, when Crystal was gone and Eleanor was dead and he was more alone than he'd ever been?He looked at the casket."I'll find her," he whispered. "I promise."The month that followed was

Ethans POV: The Laurent Gala Ethan woke up wishing he hadn't.The alarm blared at 7 AM, and for a long moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling of his empty bedroom. The mansion was silent. Just silence.Just emptiness.He had not slept more than three hours a night since Eleanor died. His body was running on fumes and stubbornness. The investigators had nothing. Nothing. It was as if Crystal Reed had been erased from the earth.But she hadn't been erased. She was out there. Somewhere. Alone.And he was going to a party.He threw off the covers and walked to the bathroom. His reflection stared back at him—gaunt, hollow-eyed.Get it together, he told himself. One night. Then you can go back to searching.By 7 PM, Ethan stood in front of his full-length mirror, dressed in a tuxedo that cost more than most people's cars.The suit was Armani—black, tailored, severe. It fit him like a second skin, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders. His hair was swept back from his face,