Discarded Bride, Billionaire's Obsession

Three months later.

The apartment looked smaller than I remembered.

I stood in the doorway of what used to be our home—Adrian's penthouse in the heart of the city and felt absolutely nothing. No nostalgia. No regret. Just emptiness.

"You have fifteen minutes," Adrian said from behind me. He didn't even have the decency to look at me. Just scrolled through his phone like I was an inconvenience.

"I just need to get my things," I muttered.

"Most of it's already in boxes. I had the staff pack it up."

Of course he did. Couldn't even let me have this one last moment.

I walked into what used to be our bedroom. The bed was made with different sheets pink, silky ones that definitely weren't mine. Melissa's perfume hung in the air.

She was living here now.

My hands clenched into fists.

"Emma?" Adrian's called my name.

"Can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?"

I started pulling framed photos off the dresser, pictures of us from when things were good. Or when I thought they were good.

"I want you to sign the divorce papers."

I froze. "We're not married, Adrian. What do you want me to sign to."

"The marriage certificate was already filed and technically, we've been married for three months."

I spun around. "What?"

He had the audacity to look annoyed.

"I filed it before the wedding. It was easier for tax purposes."

"You filed our marriage certificate without telling me?" My voice rose higher. "When? How?"

"Does it matter?" He pulled out a folder from his briefcase.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"Just sign. I'll give you the condo downtown and a hundred thousand. That's more than generous."

I laughed. Actually laughed. "Generous? Adrian, your family's net worth is eight billion dollars. You're offering me pocket change."

"You didn't contribute anything to this relationship," he said coldly. "No income. No connections. You were basically a dependent."

The words hit like a slap.

"I gave up my job for you," I said quietly.

"You asked me to. You said you wanted me to focus on being your wife, on hosting dinners and charity events and making you look good—isnt it?"

"And you failed at that too." His eyes were ice. "You were always too awkward, too quiet. Melissa can work a room in five minutes. You couldn't even make my mother like you."

Something in me cracked.

"Why did you even propose?" I whispered. "If I was so terrible, why waste three years?"

For the first time, his expression shifted. Almost looked human.

"Because I thought I loved you," he said. "But I was wrong."

"I made the worst decision also for thinking everything will be good and spends the rest of my life with you. You don't worth it"

I don't know how I made it out of that building.

The boxes were loaded into a moving truck. My whole life, reduced to eight cardboard boxes and two suitcases.

I sat in my car, the old Honda I'd driven before Adrian, the one he'd always been embarrassed by and stared at the divorce papers.

One hundred thousand dollars. The condo. And my freedom.

I should sign it. Should take the money and run.

But something stopped me.

I pulled out my phone and searched: Adrian Castellan + Melissa Vance.

The first result made my blood run cold.

"Castellan Heir Announces Engagement to Childhood Sweetheart."

The article was dated two months ago. Two months. We'd been married for three months, and he'd announced his engagement to her after one?

I kept scrolling.

Photos of them at charity galas. Smiling. Holding hands. Looking at each other like—

Like Adrian used to look at me.

Or maybe he never had. Maybe I'd just been convenient. A placeholder until Melissa came back.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Are you Emma Hartley?

I frowned.

Me:Who is this?

Unknown:Someone who can help you. If you're interested in making Adrian Castellan regret every second of the way he treated you, meet me at The Emerald Club tonight. 9 PM. VIP section.

My heart pounded.

Me:Why would you help me?

Unknown:Because I have my own reasons to want him destroyed. And because you deserve better than a hundred thousand and a condo.

Unknown:Don't be late.

The message ended with an address.

I stared at it for a long time.

This was insane. Meeting a stranger who somehow knew about my situation? It screamed danger.

But then I looked at the divorce papers again. At Adrian's cold, dismissive signature. At the pittance he thought I was worth.

I made my decision.