Why Did My Zilioner Abandoned His Wife In The Story?

"Zyran, look at me. If you walk out that door with her, you can't come back," Roosevelt pleaded, her hand instinctively covering her stomach. Zyran paused, his hand on the doorknob, while his childhood sweetheart wept softly against his chest. He didn't look back. "She needs me, Roosevelt. You are strong; you can take care of yourself." The door clicked shut, sealing his decision. He didn't notice the blood trickling down Roosevelt's leg, nor did he hear her whisper, Roosevelt had everything a woman could want: beauty, a great reputation as a top interior designer, and a marriage to Zyran, the city's coldest and most elusive billionaire. Though Zyran spoke little and showed hardly any affection, Roosevelt loved him quietly. She believed his hardness was a shield she could one day break through. On the eve of their fourth anniversary, Roosevelt got the miracle she had hoped for: a positive pregnancy test. She dreamed of the moment his icy demeanor would warm into a smile, finally bringing their family together. But before she could share the news, the ghost of Zyran’s past returned. A fragile, teary-eyed woman from his youth reappeared, seeking his protection and time. As Zyran’s attention shifted, Roosevelt slipped into the background of her own marriage. She thought she could bear the neglect until a life-changing accident forced Zyran to choose between his wife and his past. He made his choice, and by the time the billionaire understood the weight of what he had lost, Roosevelt and the secret she carried was already gone.

I gave him nine years. Nine years of stretching every coin, raising our son alone, sleeping on my side of the bed because I could not bring myself to take his. Nine years of telling Dave his father was working hard so they could have a better life. I believed it myself. Until I saw him on a public street with his hand on another woman’s waist, looking at her the way I spent nine years waiting for him to look at me. When he crossed the pavement it was not to apologise. It was to tell me she was his wife. Six months married. He told me to keep things calm, walked back to her, and introduced me as his cousin. The divorce papers came that same night. I needed a job immediately. For my son. For the bills that would not wait for me to finish falling apart. So I pulled myself together the way I always do and kept moving. I did not expect Mac Harlow. I did not expect him to run three blocks to return my dropped folder or offer me a job despite his sister’s calls to have me removed. I did not expect his daughter to find my son within ten minutes and decide they were already family. I did not expect to discover that the man I was starting to trust was connected to everything I was trying to leave behind. He did not know. I believe that. But Marshall knows now that someone else sees what he threw away. And he wants it back. He is nine years too late. Mac is looking at me like I am worth staying for. Not fixing. Not managing. Staying for. I spent nine years being someone’s afterthought. Never again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

" Why did you marry me then?" I asked in my usual tone, although I wanted to scream. But I can't. ” For my father's sake. And I don't want you to engage with any kinds of unnecessary emotions in this marriage. You will get a divorce right after one year. So enjoy your time meanwhile. The butler will be there to take care of you!" After the Arranged Marriage with the man whom I fell in love with at first sight, on the wedding night, he abandoned me. Although it was an arranged marriage, I thought we were falling in love when we met on our blind date. He showed he was the best man ever, until the wedding, he turned into a very different person. I heard he had a lover with a daughter. Am I then the abandoned wife? Will he ever look at me? Or I will have to watch him loving another woman in front of me!

After losing a game of truth or dare, my fiancé went to City Hall and married another woman. I had called him forty-seven times. In the end, the only answer I got was Seraphina’s Instagram story. In the photo, she and Vincenzo were holding a brand-new marriage certificate. She was smiling like she had won, and he was wearing the white shirt I had ironed for him that morning, his fingers casually pinching her cheek. One minute later, he called me. “Elena, don’t make this bigger than it is. It was just a game. Give me thirty days. I’ll divorce her, and then we’ll get married like we planned.” He thought I would forgive him the way I always had for the past three years. But this time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I simply liked Seraphina’s post and commented, Congratulations. Then I took off my engagement ring and left New York. He thought I was just throwing a fit. Only when his calls stopped going through, and his men searched the entire city without finding me, did he finally panic. But he had no idea. The Elena who loved him had died the moment he married someone else.

I feel unwell, so I head to the hospital alone to get myself checked. There, I find my wife, Luna Ackerman, accompanying the poor student I support financially, Levi Baker, for a health checkup. Just last night, the very same woman held me intimately in bed and said we would be together forever in every lifetime. I smile dejectedly and summon the system in my mind. "I choose to go back to my original world." What Luna doesn't know is that I'm a transmigrator. I have accomplished my mission the moment I married her. But now, I don't want her anymore.

Three days ago, my vampire fiancé, Clan Lord Raven Ashford, took his aide Vera on a private overnight trip to the southern border and gave her the seat reserved for his betrothed. He expected me to make a scene. I didn’t. I had stopped fighting a month ago. A year's worth of small surrenders had finally added up to something I could no longer ignore. He handed the border treaty I had negotiated myself to Vera, thinking I would appeal to the elders. Instead, I organized the handover documents and sent them over. He dismantled the territorial affairs I had managed for years, piece by piece, to pave Vera's way forward. I said nothing. I took the blame that was mine, accepted the cold looks, and let it all pass. At the banquet, he seated Vera beside him. He nodded more at her words than at mine. He thought I had finally accepted it, thought I was afraid to lose him. Then he came to me with offers. A manor in the south. Hunting grounds in the west. The family ring that should finally go on my finger. For the first time, he initiated these things himself, speaking as though granting me rewards. I asked for nothing. The dissolution papers he had already signed were buried among the documents he approved without reading. Those papers contained two declarations: the end of our betrothal and my departure from the clan. He never noticed. He still believed I was his betrothed, still waiting. I wasn't.