Wooing His Billionaire Ex Wife Novels & Stories

Seeing the man in the wheelchair, still exuding an undeniable aura of dominance, Zara paused for a moment before smiling. "Mr. Voss, I must say, I'm truly flattered." Magnus maneuvered his wheelchair closer, his deep, piercing black eyes locked onto her face, as radiant as the moon surrounded by stars. "You look very much like my ex-wife. When I see you, it's as if I'm seeing her again. I want you to stay by my side. I can give you anything you desire."

"Century gold-digger. Give him an Oscar." "How much are you willing to wager that he's signed a pre-nup? Oh wait, there ain't no 'nup'!" "He's not in love with him, he's in love with the AmEx Black Card. Wake up, people." "#TheBillionairesLover is about to pass out. Guess the price of authenticity is pretty steep, huh?"

Every breath felt heavy, and every small movement made her body tense before falling into suffocating silence as she reached her climax. Tears slipped down her cheeks without her realizing it, mixing with the cold sweat that hadn’t yet dried. She stared blankly at the ceiling, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. How ironic. So this was what it felt like to be the wife of a billionaire who had everything except love. Slowly, Sarah pushed the vibrator aside and reached for her phone. Her nightly routine was always the same: opening her second I*******m account just to check one profile—@Iam.mia.

I almost forgot that he had been nothing more than a one-night stand not long ago; now he was the richest billionaire, a man whose touch redefined pleasure. The following morning, still caught in the haze of our passion, Lucas took me to his offices. With quiet pride, he introduced me as his new wife. The media lapped up the spectacle: headlines and social media feeds exploded with our story, and I was both adored and scrutinized in equal measure.

She still remembered Ella’s wide eyes when she said it. “You what? You married a billionaire under contract?” Sophie had laughed at the disbelief, sipping her wine and brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. No ceremony, no rings. Just ink on a page and signatures.” Ella’s jaw had dropped. “Wait, wait Sophie, who is he?” “His name is Carson O’Connell . He needed a wife for some mmm complicated corporate reasons. And I needed the money for my mum’s hospital bill, Sophie said felling a little bit sad

He just stood there, staring at me across the crowded ballroom with an expression of complete devastation. The girl he'd thrown away, the wife he'd neglected and humiliated, the woman he'd told would never find anyone better, was Isabella Morrison. Granddaughter of Alexander Morrison. Heir to one of the largest fortunes in the country. One of the most powerful women in New York. And he'd let me go without a fight. The applause finally died down and I sat back down, accepting congratulations from the people at my table with grace and poise I'd learned from watching my brothers navigate society. But I was hyperaware of the Wei family table, of the chaos I knew was happening there.

“You’re my wife.” I didn’t say anything. He stepped back, pulled his sleeves up, and grabbed his phone from his pocket, “let’s go.” We walked out through the main hallway and every staff member moved like clockwork. A butler opened the front door before we even got there, a black Rolls-Royce was waiting out front, engine running, doors already open. I looked at him. “Seriously?” He put on his sunglasses. “You married a billionaire. What did you expect, Uber?”

Her manicured nails dug into her phone as she stared at the headline: BLACKWOOD EX-WIFE WEDS EUROPEAN BILLIONAIRE Ava looked poised, protected, and stunning beside Lucien, her hand resting lightly on his arm. The image burned into Isabella’s vision, twisting into a mix of envy and rage. “She doesn’t deserve this,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Her fingers flew across her messaging app, summoning her private investigator with a single command. Find everything. Every detail. Every record about Ava’s pregnancy. If she couldn’t have Ethan… she would ensure Ava never got the life she wanted, never got the happiness she deserved.

“Zoey is my wife!” Gasps rippled through the crowd, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Dimitri stepped forward, his calm demeanor replaced with a steely edge. “You’re mistaken,” he said evenly. “Celine is my wife now.” Caleb’s eyes flicked to Dimitri, his expression darkening. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice rising. “We were married first. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.” Celine stepped forward, her voice firm. “Stop this, Caleb. You have no right to be here.”

"Look, Nora. We've been friends since high school, and you know how I've always looked out for—" “Fucking say something that I understand, Nolan.” "Dynasty Holdings' new project is with Winston's new company." My breath stopped. "Wh-what?” He sighed. "I'm sorry, Nora. I know I shouldn't have done this, but I know more than anyone that you needed that contract. I didn't think there'll be a problem since you and Bryce were already divorced, and you no longer feel anything for—” "Hold on!" I lifted a hand. “What did you say?"