The Billionaire's Discarded Wife Strikes Back

Three years in a gold-digger training program, and I'd finally landed the catch: Mick Delgado. Handsome, loaded, and mine. Just like that, I became the Mrs. Delgado everyone envied.

Married life turned out exactly the way I'd expected.

He was either wining and dining his secretary or taking pity on some doe-eyed damsel in distress who'd supposedly "fallen on hard times."

But those women were amateurs. Their tricks were clumsy and transparent, and none of them lasted more than three rounds against me before slinking away in defeat.

After a few months of peace, Mick finally brought home a new woman.

This time, it wasn't some random nobody. It was a bona fide old-money heiress, a woman whose family name matched his dollar for dollar.

He slipped his arm around her waist with practiced ease and spoke in that same flat, indifferent tone I'd heard a hundred times before:

"Ebony, those other women you chased off? I never cared about any of them. But Hester is different. She's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"So let's get a divorce."

I glanced at Hester Fox, then gave a small nod.

The reason I'd refused to sign the papers before had nothing to do with love. I simply hadn't squeezed out enough money yet.

Now the well had run dry on both sides. I'd saved nearly enough for my sister's surgery. Who in their right mind would chain herself to a rotten cucumber like him for the rest of her life?

……

Mick tossed a pre-drafted divorce agreement onto the table in front of me, impatience threading through his voice.

"Just sign it. Dragging this out is pointless."

I picked up the agreement and flipped it open. The terms were spelled out in black and white:

Ebony Manning voluntarily forfeits all marital assets.

That was Mick's style, all right. Ruthless and clean.

I pressed my lips together, gripped the pen, and was about to sign when Hester suddenly spoke up.

"Ebony?"

She paused, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt.

"I know you."

"You hit on one of my friends at a bar once. He didn't give you the time of day."

A mocking laugh slipped from her lips, the disdain thickening.

"He told me about girls like you. Straight out of those gold-digger training programs, where they teach you how to bat your eyes and sink your claws into rich men. I remember thinking, what kind of idiot would actually fall for a woman like that?"

She turned to Mick with a light, airy smile.

"Turns out it was you, Mick."

"Didn't you do a background check before the wedding? How did you end up marrying a woman who makes a living conning men out of their money?"

My pen hand stilled. I almost laughed.

So what if I was a gold digger? I earned my money with my own skills. That was a hell of a lot better than riding Daddy's coattails, playing the sweet little angel, and stealing another woman's husband.

But more than being exposed, what I really cared about was how Mick would react. That was what would determine whether I walked out of this marriage in one piece.

His expression darkened instantly.

His brows drew together, and his arm dropped from Hester's waist as if on reflex. When he spoke, there was an edge of interrogation in his voice.

"Ebony. Is what Hester said true? You really came out of one of those programs?"

I looked up at him and let out a cold laugh.

"Does it matter?"

"Isn't the priority here me signing these papers so you two lovebirds can have the place to yourselves?"

I picked up the pen again, ready to sign, but a hand clamped around my wrist like a vise.

Mick's face was terrifyingly dark. Without a word, he dragged me toward the bedroom. I struggled, but his grip was iron, and I couldn't break free.

He threw me onto the bed. His tall frame loomed over me, shadow swallowing everything, and when he spoke, his voice was raw and hoarse.

"Ebony. You were with me this whole time just for my money?"