My Wife's Secret Husband A Billionaire's Revenge

I looked up and spoke in fluent English.

"Call your general manager. Tell him Mr. Finch is here."

The floor manager didn't understand what that meant, but something in her gut told her she needed to do exactly as I said.

After she left, I pulled the bank card from my wallet, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash.

Sabina really did think I was nothing more than a kept man, completely dependent on her.

What she didn't know was that I'd long since inherited the fortune my parents left behind. The businesses under my name spanned the globe.

I'd never told her any of this, because when my parents passed away, their will stipulated that if I ever married, I had to conceal my identity from my spouse. The moment my partner discovered who I really was, every cent of my wealth would be seized by the Finch Family Foundation, and I'd be left with nothing but an annual dividend.

I understood their reasoning. They were trying to protect me from gold diggers.

There was a time I believed Sabina was different.

She was driven and hardworking. She'd earned her way to a teaching position at the university through sheer merit, and she'd even been selected for a government-sponsored fellowship abroad.

But when the final list came out, her spot had been handed to someone with connections.

Sabina was devastated. She locked herself in the study and refused to come out.

I couldn't stand watching someone that brilliant be buried alive. So I quietly had my assistant donate an entire building to a prestigious overseas university in exchange for a joint-training placement and a visiting professor position.

When Sabina heard the news, she burst into tears of joy. She threw her arms around me and choked out the words:

"Edgar, I'll work so hard over there. Once I'm settled, I'll bring you here to stay for good."

The truth was, I didn't care about permanent residency.

What I cared about was not wanting to see her for only three months out of every year.

At that thought, a bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Sabina had never intended to let me stay here with her.

She'd already given her legal sponsorship to Rhys.

No wonder every time I came back, I'd find things in the house that didn't belong to me.

No wonder every time, even before the three months were up, Sabina would pack my bags and urge me to head home early.

So during the nine months I was gone, the home I'd carefully furnished had another man living in it.

Before long, the general manager walked in. The moment he saw me, he bent at the waist in greeting.

Then he turned to the floor manager and said, "Mr. Finch is our boss. His bill doesn't need to be—"

I raised a hand, cutting him off.

"Why shouldn't it be settled?"

I tapped a finger toward the security camera on the ceiling.

"Skipping out on a bill with malicious intent. That warrants an immediate call to the police. Under local regulations, the outstanding amount should be recovered at ten times the original sum."

Sabina, you had it backwards.

You've been lying to my face all this time without a shred of guilt, and the only reason you got away with it was because you were banking on my love for you.

But when that love is gone—

I want to see exactly where that leaves you.

I returned home. The moment I pushed open the door, I was greeted by a picture of domestic bliss.

Joey sat curled in Sabina's lap, clinging to her and begging for a story.

Rhys stood behind her, kneading her shoulders.

His fingers grazed Sabina's collarbone, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

But my gaze locked onto what Rhys was wearing—a set of matching pajamas, nearly identical to Sabina's.

Couple's pajamas.

I'd once bought a set just like them and begged Sabina to wear them with me. She'd scoffed without a second glance.

"Edgar, that's so childish. Only teenagers wear matching pajamas."

The next year, when I came back, the pajamas were gone.