The Billionaire's Discarded Wife

Right now I don't even have a hundred dollars on me. Where am I supposed to scrape together $280,000 to pay Wyatt back? I stood frozen in place, the hand clutching the payment slip ice-cold. The girl next to me, still watching a concert replay, let out an envious sigh. "Oh my god, the way Mr. Sanchez looks at his girlfriend—it's practically dripping with love. He's so into her. This is literally a real-life CEO romance!" "I know, right? I heard today's her birthday. She mentioned wanting to see her favorite idol live, and Mr. Sanchez just... threw money at it. Got the idol to put on a private concert just for her. I'm so jealous." "But doesn't Mr. Sanchez have a wife? Like, legally married?" "So what? For rich guys, juggling a wife and a mistress is totally normal. Besides, his wife's just a gold digger. Women like her only care about money, not love. She probably doesn't even care how many women he has on the side." Wyatt and I were supposed to be a fairy tale come true. He was the eldest grandson of the prestigious Sanchez family. The only heir. And me? My family was ordinary. I had a mom who'd been bedridden for years and needed constant care. Not long after we got together, I told him everything about my situation. I thought he'd be like everyone else—that once he heard about my mom, he'd start pulling away. But he didn't. He just held my hand, his eyes full of heartache, and said in a trembling voice, "You've been carrying all this alone for so long. From now on, I'll be with you." He told me: Alice, no matter where you go or what you do, don't forget—I'm right behind you. Back then, everyone said meeting Wyatt was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. I believed it too. Back then, no one could have predicted it. The wedding I'd been dreaming of wouldn't just brand me as a gold digger—a label I could never tear off—it would also drain away every last drop of his love for me. Even now, I still remember. After I got that money, I rushed in a panic to pay for my mom's surgery. But her attending doctor's tone suddenly shifted—no longer urgent, just calm and measured. "Ms. Henson, your mother doesn't have any problems at all. Everything just now was a test from Mrs. Sanchez. She wanted to see whether you're actually qualified to be the next Mrs. Sanchez." "She asked me to tell you that she's not very satisfied with your performance. If you want to keep your position secure, you'll need to do better." "Also, Mrs. Sanchez will arrange a better medical team for your mother going forward. But she has one condition—she hopes you'll keep your mouth shut about this." Because of Amelia Sanchez's veiled threats, I didn't dare gamble with my mom's life. No matter how badly Wyatt misunderstood me, I never told him the truth. But when I found out he was cheating—when I saw that bright, beautiful girl by his side—I still lost it. I made a scene. I grabbed his clothes, crying so hard I could barely breathe. Over and over, I begged him: "Wyatt, please—can you not do this to me?" His face stayed ice-cold. Not a flicker of softness. He pried my fingers off, one by one. "Alice Henson." His voice was flat, deadly calm. "The day of the wedding, when you raised the price and trampled my family's dignity under your feet—you died in my heart." "Right now, you're nothing but a woman I bought with money. What right do you have to make demands of me?" After that, he stopped hiding it. The women by his side changed constantly. The bottle of sleeping pills I kept in my nightstand grew lighter and lighter.

Also, day after day of insomnia, I emptied one bottle after another. At this moment, I had no money to get medicine. I could only turn around and go home. But when I walked to the front door, I found the villa's front gate tightly shut, with not a bit of light inside. I covered my stomach, which was still faintly aching, and with difficulty pressed the doorbell on the villa's front gate. "Vera, are you there? Please help me open the door." I clenched my teeth and shouted inside. The next moment, the giggling of Wyatt's new love, Georgia Harding, came out from the door's security camera. "Lately the neighborhood's had crazy theft, so Wyatt just set access control. After ten o'clock, no one's allowed in or out—including you, Alice." As her words fell, Wyatt's hoarse, rich voice followed. "Stop playing around, let's continue..." The sound by my ear abruptly stopped. I touched the only eighty dollars left in my pocket. A wave of bleakness rose in my heart. I slowly covered my stomach and sat down on the steps by the gate. Holding myself tightly. Trying to use this to find a bit of warmth. But at this time, I suddenly remembered the scene from when we were dating. The first time Wyatt brought me to the villa, he excitedly interlaced our fingers. Little by little, he introduced the various rooms of the villa to me. And told me: "Alice, this front gate is open for you at any time. This is your home, a place that belongs to you. And in this home, there will only be you as the one lady of the house." And now. I looked at the place in front of me that had once been called home. Yet I felt it was especially unfamiliar. I sat blankly at the villa gate for an entire night. When Vera Chavez woke up and opened the door, my limbs had long since become stiff and numb. "Ma'am, why didn't you go find a place to stay? Hurry and come in, don't catch a cold from freezing." She anxiously took my hand. When she touched my icy palm, her heart suddenly trembled. In the way she looked at me, there was a bit more pity and sympathy. She didn't say anything more, and hurriedly went to the kitchen to make ginger soup for me. These past three years, when I was disliked and cursed at by people, only Vera had unwaveringly believed me. She told me: "You're not someone who's greedy for vanity. If you did this, you definitely had no choice. I believe you." At that time, the time we had spent together was only the few times I came here to play before I got married. But it was precisely someone like her who chose to believe me. And Wyatt, who kept saying he loved me, yet from beginning to end, he refused to believe me. Thinking about it, it's also laughable. Not long after, I drank the ginger soup and ate dinner Vera prepared for me. When I returned to my room and was about to wash up and rest, a woman's crisp, pleasant coquettish voice suddenly came from outside the door. "It's all your fault. Last night you didn't know how to hold back at all, you kept messing with me. My waist is so sore right now." "Look how spoiled you are. When I have time, I'll arrange a yoga coach for you to train with. Later we'll play with something else." Wyatt's familiar, rich voice came in through the room door. In his slightly hoarse voice, there was a pleased smile. Hearing his laughter, my mind was a little dazed. It seemed like I didn't remember how long it had been since I'd seen him smile. All of a sudden, I saw the prepared divorce agreement on the nightstand. I flipped up and got out of bed, took the agreement, and walked out the door. But I happened to run into Wyatt and Georgia in the hallway, kissing passionately. Watching as his hand fell onto her thigh, I moved my dry lips and softly said, "Sorry to bother you for a few minutes." The moment Wyatt's gaze that had still carried tenderness landed on me, it instantly revealed a sharp, overbearing light.

Georgia stood beside him. She straightened her back proudly, showing off her fair neck covered in fresh red marks. "Sis, so you were home too. I thought you missed curfew last night and couldn't make it back—figured you'd gone somewhere else." I ignored her provocation. I walked toward Wyatt and held out the papers. "This is the divorce agreement I prepared. The money I owe you, I'll pay back slowly. Every cent." "Pay it back?" His lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "You don't even have a job. With what—yourself? Planning to sell yourself one more time?" The smile never reached his eyes. So he knew. Three years of no work, no income—he'd noticed after all. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. "How I pay it back is my business. You don't need to worry about it." Before Wyatt could respond, Georgia snatched the papers from my hand. She read them and burst out laughing. "Sis, the electronic version you sent last night was full of typos. Didn't you notice? Where'd you find a lawyer? So unprofessional." I didn't have money for a lawyer. I'd typed this agreement myself last night, sitting in the doorway, copying from an online template word by word. When I sent it to him, I saw he'd accepted the file this morning. I thought he understood how serious I was about ending this marriage. I didn't expect my desperation would become a joke he shared with another woman. "Alice, have you made enough of a scene?" Wyatt's gaze swept over me—contempt, disgust. "You think bringing up divorce will get my attention? Put away those low-class tricks of yours." He didn't give me another chance to speak. He wrapped an arm around Georgia's waist and walked into his room, leaving me standing there. Just like our wedding night—when I begged him to stay and he walked into his study without looking back. Once again, a single door shut me out. But this time, I didn't knock. I turned around and went back to my room. After that, I started looking for work again. This time, I didn't send resumes to companies. Instead, I chose a high-paying position as a server at the Velvet Lounge. Working here didn't require a background check. No one knew my identity. No one mocked me for being a gold digger. Until half a month later. Following the shift lead's instructions, I carried the liquor order for Room 304 and pushed open the door. My whole body went rigid. "Well, well—Mrs. Sanchez herself. Even in a server uniform, you're still a looker." "Right? Look at that figure. No wonder she could embarrass the Sanchez family and still charm Mr. Sanchez into marrying her."

"Too bad my family doesn't have pockets as deep as Mr. Sanchez's. Can't afford to keep a gold digger. Otherwise I'd want a taste too—see if she's worth two hundred sixty thousand." Their lewd gazes crawled over me. My heart lurched. Instinctively, I looked toward Wyatt in the main seat. He didn't seem surprised to see me. Calm, unhurried, he toyed with Georgia's delicate hand, as if none of this had anything to do with him. "Don't talk nonsense." Georgia's voice dripped with false sweetness. "Sis is still Wyatt's wife in name, after all. If you won't give her face, at least give my Wyatt some." No blame on her face. Just a provocative smirk aimed straight at me. One of the men rubbed his hands together, emboldened. "None of us have family money to marry her, but we've got enough to get a taste, right? How much—name your price." My face went pale. I stepped back instinctively. "Show some respect! I'm just a server here..." A vicious light flashed in Georgia's eyes. She leaned close to Wyatt and whispered something. The next moment, he actually looked at me. "Aren't you desperate to pay me back? What's with the chaste-woman act?" His gaze dripped with contempt as he pulled a divorce agreement from his pocket. "You want a divorce so badly? Keep them company for one night, and I'll sign." The men in the private room stirred. I went mute, my whole body trembling. Because he signed without hesitation. And threw it at me. "Alice, if you want a divorce, show me you mean it." Then he wrapped an arm around Georgia's waist and walked out without a backward glance. The sticky gazes behind me made my skin crawl. "Wyatt, don't go..." Georgia turned and shot me a venomous look. Her lips moved: "Stay here and enjoy yourself." Someone yanked me inside with full force. In the shifting light and shadows, the door slammed shut. Cutting off the last bit of light. Despair drowned me like a tide. And I had no room to resist. The next day. Wyatt's assistant knocked on his door early in the morning. Seeing the man rush over, a hint of mockery rose on Wyatt's cold face. "Did she ask you for help last night? I told you—she brought up divorce just to play hard to get..." The TV in the living room suddenly cut to breaking news. "Last night at 10:15 p.m., a woman surnamed Henson at the Cloudwave Hotel unfortunately died after being assaulted..."