Billionaire Husband Begged “Slut” Ex-Wife Back

Alexander left with Dahlia. On his way out, he tossed one last line at me.

"If you're going to hurt people, be ready to pay the price."

When the Sterling name came down against you, doors closed.

Not a single hospital in New York would take me in.

My wounds became infected, and the fever left me delirious.

I fumbled for my phone and tried to call Alexander, only to discover he'd already blocked my number.

Outside the hospital entrance, two security guards were gossiping nearby.

"I heard Mr. Sterling bought a yacht for that Forsythe girl, just to cheer her up. Must be nice."

"Right? And at the charity auction the other day, he bought a Cartier necklace for her too."

Hearing all of this, I couldn't feel a thing anymore.

Now, all I wanted was to survive—and then disappear for good.

Through the haze, my phone rang. It was George.

He had no children of his own and had been my family's driver his entire life.

After my parents died, he'd volunteered to look after their gravesite.

But now, George—always so gentle and steady—sounded frantic:

"Miss, Mr. Sterling says he's building an animal rescue shelter on your parents' burial land! The construction crew is already here, and there's nothing I can do to stop them!"

The fog in my head burned away in an instant.

I hailed the first car I could find and dragged myself to Sterling Corporation.

The receptionist blocked me at the entrance, same as always.

"Mr. Sterling has made it clear—you're not permitted inside without his authorization."

The irony was almost laughable.

Dahlia could waltz in and out of Sterling Corporation as she pleased, while I—his lawful wife—was turned away at the door every single time.

Alexander had once said he didn't like people coming to his office. So I'd stood downstairs cradling a pot of soup I'd simmered for three hours, waiting until well past midnight.

When I finally saw him come out and started toward him, I realized Dahlia was nestled in his arms.

It wasn't that he didn't like people in his office. It was just that the person was wrong.

I was running on fumes, consciousness slipping away.

"Step aside. I'm Mrs. Sterling. Try and stop me."

I forced my way inside. From within, I heard Dahlia's voice:

"Alexander, you're giving me this land... won't that upset your wife? I don't want to make things worse between you two."

Alexander answered lazily:

"It's just a plot of land. Whatever you want, I'll give you."

"Besides, Wren could never leave me. I could tell her to get on her knees and bow to you right now, and she'd do it with a smile."

I couldn't take it anymore. I shoved the door open.

"Alexander, that's my parents' burial ground! You know that. Why would you choose that spot of all places?"

Alexander hadn't expected me to appear. He frowned and snapped at me.

"Wren, look at yourself. You're a disgrace to the Sterling name."

After days of living on the streets, my clothes were torn and filthy, stained beyond recognition.

Dahlia piled on from the side, her voice all sugar and spite:

"God, you look like hell."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to keep yourself presentable? Oh—right. Never mind."

I was shaking with fury. My hand flew across Dahlia's face.

Alexander was livid. He seized me and dragged me toward the door.

"You're hitting people now? Have you finally decided you can live without the money? Or is it me you've decided you can live without?"

"Since you won't listen to me, Wren, maybe your parents can knock some sense into you!"

By the time we reached the cemetery, George was standing there, helpless and distraught.

The earth had been torn apart. The headstone I'd carved for my parents by hand was nowhere to be found.

"Your dad and I only have one little girl in this whole world. When we're gone, bury us on the hill behind the house, so we can watch over our baby and keep her happy forever."

My parents' words echoed in my mind, and tears blurred everything.

I was pinned to the ground, forced to watch as the excavator rolled back and forth over the soil.

Nearby, reporters swarmed like vultures.

"Ms. Forsythe, how much are you investing in this shelter?"

"Ms. Forsythe, what inspired you to build an animal shelter on this particular site?"

I knelt there sobbing, unable to stop, while Alexander stood before the cameras with Dahlia in his arms, smiling radiantly.