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He Spoiled His First Love and Forgot His Wife Novel Cover

He Spoiled His First Love and Forgot His Wife

After Julian Cross spent millions on his first love Clarissa's birthday while mocking their own anniversary, Arielle Sinclair demanded a divorce. Six years later, they cross paths at a luxury estate where Arielle is working as a delivery rider. Julian sneeringly offers to make her his kept mistress if she begs. But Arielle has no time for his disdain—she is too busy trying to appease her son's actual, wealthy father, who just stormed off in a jealous fit.
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Chapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, Julian Cross used condoms he found to make three balloons for me—but spent millions celebrating Clarissa Whitmore’s birthday.

I found it disgusting, yet he had the nerve to scold me for being materialistic.

“Vanessa has been pampered since she was a child. Her birthday party has to be grand—I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“You claimed you only loved me. But now you’re criticizing me? Seems like you're no different from those shallow men chasing gold diggers.”

I chose to divorce him right then. He moved Clarissa into our house the very next day.

Six years later, I rode a small electric scooter to the most luxurious community in New York—and ran into them right at the entrance.

Seeing my takeaway uniform and shopping bags, Julian sneered with disdain.

“Acted all tough back then, and now you’ve fallen so low, delivering condoms for a living?”

“Arielle Sinclair, if you kneel down and beg, I might not marry you again—but I could let you be my canary, reluctantly.”

I didn’t even look at him.

I was just playing house with my son—I never expected his father to get jealous and storm out.

Now I had to coax that petty man back home.

——

As soon as I reached the gates of Imperial Crest Manor, I saw Julian holding Vanessa Holloway’s hand, surrounded by several rich second-generation heirs.

In six years, he’d grown more mature and capable, now a leader in New York’s real estate scene.

They praised him like sycophants:

“Julian, you’re the most successful among us. I heard that the world-famous real estate tycoon just arrived in New York and bought a house here in Imperial Crest Manor—one designed by you. He’s notoriously picky about his environment.”

“With a boss like that admiring your work, he’ll definitely approve your cooperation proposal. When you enter the global market, don’t forget to take your brothers with you!”

Julian smiled proudly, soaking in every compliment.

To please him, they even flattered Vanessa:

“They say a virtuous wife ensures prosperity for generations. Behind Julian’s success is Vanessa’s constant support. Unlike Arielle—who only knew how to wash clothes and cook—completely useless and always dragging him down.”

“Arielle looks like a curse on men. Whoever marries her is doomed. How could she ever compare to our elegant Dr. Sinclair? Julian, you and Vanessa have been married six years now—when’s the big wedding?”

Vanessa shyly took Julian’s arm and giggled:

“You guys are too much. Aze bought land in Canada last year. He’s designing a rose manor himself. He said once it’s built, we’ll have a century wedding there.”

Julian looked a bit embarrassed.

“Yes, Vanessa deserves the best. I want everything to be perfect. There’s no rush.”

I raised an eyebrow. That manor—wasn’t it already built six years ago?

Right after our divorce, Julian brought Vanessa home and even flaunted their marriage certificate. But they still hadn’t had a wedding?

If he had really built a manor, or even a palace, surely it would’ve been finished by now.

Did he buy another plot of land just to keep up the illusion?

Not wanting to bump into Julian, I lowered my head and tried to ride past quickly on my scooter.

But Vanessa’s sharp eyes caught me. She turned to the property manager with a tone of disgust:

“Manager Holloway, Aze pays you so much money, and this is what you allow in? Letting random people wander in? What’s the point of living in an upscale community like this if you let in trash?”

Manager Holloway bowed repeatedly in apology, then rushed toward me angrily.

“Are you blind? Can’t you read the sign? This is Imperial Crest Manor, the most high-end community in New York. Delivery people are not allowed inside!”

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