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His Unwanted Wife, The Billionaire's Obsession

Marnie Nomura

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Billionaires

140 Chapters

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I sold myself to a stranger for fifty thousand dollars just to pay for my daughter's funeral. When I returned to my gilded cage of a home, my husband, Jace, was already moving his mistress in. He didn't even know our daughter was dead, still using her medical bills to threaten me into perfect obedience. "Don't forget, Lily is still waiting for a bone marrow match. Are you sure you want to make me angry?" To escape him, I lied and told him I caught an STD from the man I slept with. Disgusted, Jace threw me out into the freezing Chicago night. My own parents shut their doors on me, terrified of losing his financial backing. Homeless and broken, I was suddenly picked up by the very man who bought me-Blaise Hawthorne, my husband's most dangerous billionaire rival, who saw the bruises on my neck and took me in. But Jace's fragile, narcissistic ego couldn't handle his property walking away. He tracked me down, refusing to sign the divorce papers unless I agreed to one final humiliation: serving as a lowly assistant to his mistress at a prestigious antiquities gala. He thought this public degradation would finally break me. Instead, I calmly accepted his deal, stepping onto that glittering stage to expose his true love as a complete fraud in front of the city's elite, officially beginning my revenge.

His Unwanted Wife, The Billionaire's Obsession Chapter 1

Lily was Ellery's daughter. Five years old. She had been dead for three days, and the funeral home was still waiting for money.

Jace Landry-her husband-hadn't even called. He didn't know she was dead-he was busy with Darla Evans.

So she went to the man Jace hated most. Blaise Hawthorne. She took his check.

Fifty thousand dollars. The corner bore the Hawthorne Group logo. The price of burying her daughter-and the price of her last bit of dignity.

She had tried every other route first. Jace's phone was unreachable. Her parents told her to go back and apologize. The funeral home gave her a deadline, then another, and after that they stopped being polite.

Blaise Hawthorne was the last name on her list. She saved him for last because going to him meant admitting she had nothing-and because he was the man Jace most hated her to have anything to do with.

But Lily was waiting. So she came.

She didn't know what else this money would cost her. She only knew it was the one thing she could use to bury her daughter.

Her stomach churned. Lily's pale little face against the hospital pillow flashed through her mind. The cold words from the billing office still echoed in her ears.

She forced herself to fold the check and put it into the pocket of her old coat.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam. A tall man emerged, a towel slung low around his waist. Blaise Hawthorne. His dark hair was still wet, his eyes as sharp as a predator's. The faint scar on his lower lip caught the light.

Ellery took an involuntary step back and dropped her gaze to the floor. She had to leave-leave this room, this man, this suffocating moment.

"I have the money. Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse, as if shredded by crying. "I should go."

That sentence was like a verdict-on Jace, and on herself.

Blaise didn't answer. He walked to the minibar, the clink of ice against glass the only sound in the room. He poured a whiskey and leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip.

His gaze fell on her left wrist. It was bare, but a faint white mark remained on the skin, as if something had been worn there. She had not noticed when he had taken it-perhaps while she was folding the check, too lost in grief to feel the clasp give way.

"Jace Landry's wife," he said, his voice low and amused. "Is this all you're worth?"

Heat rushed to her face. She bit down hard on her lower lip-a familiar, painful habit.

She gave him no response. She turned, her fingers clutching the edge of her coat, and walked toward the door. Every step felt like walking on broken glass.

Her hand had just touched the doorknob when his voice came again, cold and deliberate.

"You forgot something."

She was confused and turned back.

He was holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. A silver bracelet, one of a kind, passed down from her grandmother.

The blood drained from her face. "Give it back to me." She lunged for it, a desperate, clumsy movement. It was the last precious thing she had besides the memory of her daughter.

Blaise easily lifted it out of her reach, a smirk on his lips.

He made a soft "Tsk." "You want it back?" He slipped the bracelet into the pocket of his jeans. "Then you'll have to find a way to see me again."

As if on cue, the phone in her pocket buzzed violently. The screen lit up with a single name: Jace.

Her stomach dropped. She pulled out the phone and stabbed the decline button, her whole body shaking. She couldn't bear to hear his voice.

Blaise narrowed his eyes, watching her reaction. The amusement disappeared, replaced by something deeper and more calculating. He jerked his chin toward the door, a silent dismissal.

Rage lodged in her throat, burning so hot she couldn't speak. Ellery could only glare at him, then yank the door open and rush into the hallway.

She fled into the elevator. As the doors closed, she collapsed against the cold metal wall. Her legs gave out completely, and she slid to the floor.

The mirrored wall reflected a pale, ravaged face. On her neck, fingerprint-shaped bruises were beginning to surface.

She closed her eyes, and a single hot tear traced through her makeup.

In the suite, Blaise took the silver bracelet from his pocket. His thumb rubbed the inside, where a delicate, swirling "E" was engraved. The image of a girl in a university library years ago flickered through his mind. His face showed no emotion.

He picked up his phone and dialed. "Tate. Look into Jace Landry's recent financials. And... everything about his wife. As much as you can find."

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the glittering Chicago skyline.

Ellery stumbled out of the hotel into the biting cold wind. The cold jolted her awake, clearing a little of the fog in her head. She clutched the check in her pocket. It was Lily's peace. It was her own sin.

She hailed a taxi, not to the golden cage of the Landry estate, but to a 24-hour ATM.

She had to deposit the money now. The funeral home was waiting. She couldn't wait another second.

As she fed the check into the machine, her phone vibrated again. A text from Jace.

"Ellery, stop this tantrum. Come home tomorrow. We need to discuss Lily's bone marrow transplant."

The name Lily was like a fist closing around her heart, squeezing until she couldn't breathe.

Hatred for that man surged up again, sharp enough to taste. He was still using their dead daughter to control her-and he didn't even know she was dead. He had been with Darla.

She didn't reply. She deleted the message. The machine whirred, and the new balance flashed on the screen. The number made her dizzy.

She stepped out of the bank and walked aimlessly down the empty pre-dawn streets.

She didn't yet know what Blaise Hawthorne wanted. But one thing was clear: from the moment she took that check, only reckoning remained between her and Jace Landry. She was going to make him pay.

The man holding her bracelet was dangerous. But she needed him now. She was going to use Blaise Hawthorne to tear Jace apart from the inside out. First, go back to that house and get Lily's bear. Then never go back.