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Accused as Theft
Last Updated:
2022-11-17 09:48:25
Latest chapter
The Wealthy Divorcee Return To New York
The decision came quietly.No press conference. No advisors arguing across polished tables. No dramatic announcement.Jenna made it alone, in the hours before dawn, while Madrid slept beneath a fragile illusion of order. The city outside her hospital window glimmered with distance and indifference, as if it had already decided she did not belong here.Alice’s letter lay folded on the bedside table.Jenna did not touch it again.She didn’t need to.Alice is her nemesis.Always.New York was where Jenna’s empire had been built—but it was also
The Wealthy Divorcee Royal Confession
The hospital's quietness was deceptive.It hummed softly with the sounds of machines and distant footsteps, a fragile illusion of calm stitched together by white walls and controlled lighting. Outside, the world screamed. Inside Jenna's private room, everything waited—breath held, hearts unsteady, truths pressing against their own restraints.Jenna lay awake long after the nurses left.Her lungs still ached with every inhale, a dull reminder that fire had kissed her too closely. She stared at the ceiling, tracing imaginary cracks that weren't there, grounding herself in something simple because her thoughts refused to stay still.David's vow echoed relentlessly in her mind.I will protect Jenna wit
The Wealthy Divorcee World Outcry
The world woke up burning.Not with flames this time, but with outrage.By dawn, the image had crossed every border Jenna Anderson’s company ever operated in—and many it never had. Phones buzzed relentlessly. Newsrooms abandoned scheduled programming. Financial analysts, political commentators, and royal correspondents spoke over one another in frantic urgency as the same photograph dominated every screen.Rex.Jenna.Fire.He was carrying her as if the rest of the world had already fallen away.Jenna woke to white.Not the comforting whi
The Wealthy Divorcee Fire at the Hotel
The smell reached Jenna before the sound.It crept into her lungs like a living thing—sharp, chemical, wrong. Not the accidental smoke of a kitchen mishap or overheated wiring, but something deliberate. Violent. Her eyes snapped open as her throat burned, the air already thick and heavy, pressing against her chest with suffocating intent.The lights flickered.For half a second, she was still trapped in the echo of Alice’s voice.Madrid was only the beginning.Then the fire alarm screamed.Jenna lurched out of bed, coughing as black smoke curled beneath the suite door like a predator slipping its leash. Heat radiated through the walls, unn
The Wealthy Divorcee The Hidden Princess
The night in Madrid, I did not sleep.Sirens wailed somewhere far below the hotel’s gilded windows, their echoes slicing through the velvet silence left behind after the chaos of the previous hour. The attempted assassination had been hushed, buried under layers of royal authority and private security, but the air itself still trembled as if it remembered. Even the chandeliers in the presidential suite seemed to glow too brightly, as though light itself had become suspicious of shadows.Jenna sat by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.The city stretched endlessly below—ancient rooftops, glowing streets, the illusion of peace. It mocked her. Just hours ago, masked men had stalked her hallway with silenced guns and professional precision. If David’s men had been a second slower, she would already be a headline whispered behind closed doors.The Mysterious CEO Dies in Spain.Her fingers curled against the glass. The chill seeped into her bones, but it was nothing compare
The Wealthy Divorcee Sniper in the Towers
Time did not slow.It shattered.—High above the palace, the shooter exhaled.He lay prone against cold stone, body aligned with the rifle as if they were a single organism. The wind was steady. The distance measured. The variables accounted for long before the gala lights ignited below.Gold dress. Center mass.The target moved exactly as predicted.The shooter’s finger rested against the trigger, pressure increasing by fractions. He did not think of faces. He did not think of names. He thought only of instruction.Observe. Adjust. Execute.Below him, music swelled.A king danced.The woman in gold turned her head slightly, laughter flickering across her face for a heartbeat. Something tightened unexpectedly in the shooter’s chest.Annoyance.Emotion was a flaw.He corrected his breathing.—Rex moved before thought could catch him.The red dot burned against Jenna’s chest, a cruel mockery against gold, steady and precise. Rex’s body reacted on instinct older than reason—muscle memo
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