Ex-husband Unmasked: He's A Billionaire Novels & Stories

I asked, ruffling his hair, and he nodded happily. “Yes, mummy.” “That's great. Thank you, my love.” “I can't believe I almost forgot,” Tasha huffed, patting her forehead. “I finally found that guy's social media. The one who employed me to manage that big charity gala.” “Oh, is that so?” I asked. “Yeah, let me show you,” She said, as she typed something on her phone. “The man is so handsome in like an unreal, Greek god way. No disrespect to you, babe.” She darted David a sheepish look, and he just huffed before walking away.

He had lashed out at me and yet he was cuddling up to his ex wife on the very same spot. How dare he?! I had to admit that she was beautiful. The classy kind of beauty. The woman looked like she commanded men. I'd bet the only thing attractive about me was my boobs. The headlines read “The billionaire and his beautiful wife might be back together.” Tears stung the corner of my eyes. “She looks old!” Was the only insult I could come up with before I stormed back to my room to call Megan. “Have you seen the news?”

I said finally with a raw voice, “Elena,” Mom blinked once, slowly, “And?” I laughed—a broken, bitter sound. “She was radiant. Confidence. Successful. Surrounded by investors. She was with these two men, one of whom I did not know—Derek, and the other was Max, from college.” Mom's brows arched, “The billionaire philanthropist?” “Yes,” I spat the word, “He showed up acting like he owns her. Like he has every right to be there. And that other idiot—Derek—hovering around her as if he discovered gold.”

He took a long-lens picture of you and the children boarding the SUV. He set the paper on the breakfast table. The photo was blurry, but readable. Davidson, with hand in hand Sarah, Jake racing ahead. The headline was a study in inference: Billionaire's Heir Plays Family Man: Is Ekon's Ex-Wife Melting? The article had guessed wildly. Was there a reconciliation on the horizon? Was Melissa Ekon forgiving her husband's "indiscretions" for a glimpse of the Brian fortune? It was trash, but it was trash that would be read by millions.

husband sitting in the luxurious seat of honor, wearing an expensive handmade suit. He didn't look a thing like the shabby man who needed me to mend his torn shirts. The guests around were gasping in awe: "Mr. Thorne is so generous! He actually gave his stepson a yacht worth tens of millions as a birthday gift!" "Exactly. Not only is he the richest man on Wall Street, but he's also so devoted. He treats his lover's child like his own. Where can you find a good man like that?" Richest man? A multi-million dollar yacht?

He reached for the newspaper folded beside his plate and flipped it open as if the conversation were already over. Marie, our housekeeper, hesitated near the sideboard with a pitcher of orange juice. She looked away quickly but not before I caught the pity in her eyes. Everyone knew. The staff, his associates, probably half of Seattle's elite social circle. Everyone except the fool who had married him thinking love could grow where none existed. "There is something you need to know." I pressed my palms flat against the table and the cool wood anchored me. "I am pregnant." Richard reached for his phone and began scrolling through messages without looking up. The blue light from the screen ref

“It didn't say I had to die.” “I paid you extra for the death, didn't I?” “You did.” The man shrugged. “But all I'm saying is... you can still pay me more. You can do better.” He chuckled. “You're a billionaire after all.” “And the only reason I stay a billionaire,” Victor replied without emotion, “is because I don't let lazy pieces of shit blackmail me.” “Well...” the man leaned back comfortably. “I can always go find your wife and tell that poor girl you tricked her.”

the manager replied before excusing himself. “Gemma…” Lilly was the first to speak. “Who exactly are you?” “I was literally about to ask the same question,” another person immediately added. “No, seriously,” someone else said excitedly. “You got your ex-husband blacklisted from one of the most expensive restaurants in New York!” “You’re secretly some kind of billionaire, aren’t you?” “Did you buy this restaurant?” That one caught me so off guard that I laughed. “I’m sorry to disappoint everyone,” I said honestly, “but I’m just as confused as all of you are.”

"Edric, you will always be my good brother." "If I want to love you, I can't get it." "I'm sorry, I know you've helped me a lot in the past two years. You also helped my company. I owe you my life." Edric Miller looked up at her with red eyes and said: "Actually, the person who helps your company is not me." "What? If not you, then who?" "It's your husband, William!" When she heard Edric finish, she was speechless in surprise. After a while, she regained her composure and asked again:

I folded it carefully, sliding it deep inside the pocket of my overcoat. I looked down at him. He was broken, trembling, and utterly dismantled, his head resting against his chest as he wept silent, agonizing tears of pain and defeat. I had the signature. I had the confession. But as I looked at his ruined face, the calculating side of my brain was still tracking the missing puzzle piece. He was a billionaire. He ran a massive global motorsport division. He had risked his entire career, his reputation, and his physical health to fly across the Atlantic and play husband to a woman he had never seen before.