After My Billionaire Ex Begged Me Back, I Married Her Rival

I took a delivery gig cooking meals at someone's home. Thirty thousand dollars an hour.

The client was a young guy who'd ordered three large boxes of home-cooked dishes, all of which had to look, smell, and taste perfect.

My girlfriend made fun of me for not knowing how to cook. I have to show her what I've got!

"But I seriously have zero talent. I almost blew up the rice cooker."

"Good thing it's her money, so no skin off my back. Bro, you gotta help me out!"

Rowena Ashworth was an ordinary office worker. Her job was exhausting, and her stomach had always been sensitive.

To help her take better care of herself, I was constantly experimenting with new recipes. When it came to cooking, I was confident in my skills.

But I'd barely set down the first dish when there was a noise at the door.

The young guy looked toward the woman walking in, panicked.

"Babe! Why are you back early? You didn't even tell me!"

The woman's voice dripped with affection.

"Dummy. I knew you'd hire someone to cheat. Caught you red-handed."

"I'm the CEO of the Ashworth Group, after all. You think I'd let my husband tire himself out cooking for me?"

"The food does smell amazing, though. Where'd you find the help?"

The moment I heard that familiar voice, I spun around in shock.

The woman standing before me, dressed head to toe in designer labels.

It was Rowena Ashworth. My girlfriend of five years. The one who told me she made four thousand a month.

Hot oil splattered onto the back of my hand, a sharp, searing sting.

But it was like I'd lost the ability to control my own body. I just stood there, frozen, staring at the two of them.

Leonard Winfield raised an eyebrow.

"Sweet talk won't save you. This guy charges thirty grand an hour. Watch your wallet!"

Rowena hadn't noticed me. She leaned in and kissed Leonard on the cheek, smiling.

"Don't underestimate your wife. I'm worth over a hundred million. What's thirty thousand to me?"

"Even if it were three million an hour, as long as my Leonard's happy, it's worth every penny."

Leonard pulled her into his arms, appeased.

"That's more like it."

"I just finished a dish. Try it?"

"Sure. Whatever you say."

Rowena turned her head with a smile still on her lips. The instant our eyes met, she froze.

Leonard assumed she was reacting to the aroma of the food. He puffed out his chest proudly.

"Not bad, right? The guy I found is legit. His cooking smells incredible, and he's even got a certified nutritionist license!"

Six months ago, Rowena had been rushed to the hospital with acute gastritis.

Her face had been twisted in pain, but she'd still forced herself to tell me not to worry.

I'd been so heartbroken that I cried. Then I went and got my nutritionist certification.

To make medicinal meals that actually tasted good, I'd burned my hands more times than I could count. The scars on the backs of my hands still hadn't faded.

When Rowena said nothing, Leonard shot me a suspicious look.

"What, you two know each other?"

Rowena snapped out of it and lightly flicked Leonard's forehead.

"What are you thinking? He's a good cook. Some people at the company hired him before."

Leonard snorted out a laugh.

"Fair point. You're the CEO of the Ashworth Group. No way you'd know some hired cook."

"Hey man, go ahead and bring the dishes to the dining room."

Rowena didn't look at me again. Like I was just the help. Nobody worth a second glance.

Something lodged itself in my chest, a dull, suffocating ache.

As I was plating the food, I picked the scallion bits out of the bowl without thinking.

By the time I realized what I'd done, Leonard's surprised voice had already cut through the air.

"How'd you know I don't eat scallions?"

I froze. Leonard's eyes lit up, like something had clicked.

"Oh, I get it! You must have told him ahead of time. No wonder you two were acting so weird just now!"

Leonard glanced at Rowena, his tone dripping with mock exasperation.

"My girlfriend knows I can't stand scallions, so she picks them out for me every single time."

"I told her I can't handle the taste, and she just stopped eating them altogether. The CEO of Ashworth Groupmaking her kitchen staff leave out scallions even at business dinners!"

A year ago, Rowena had never been a picky eater. Then, out of nowhere, she announced she didn't eat scallions anymore.

I'd assumed her stomach couldn't handle the irritation. Every time I cooked, I'd been so careful to leave them out.

Turns out, it was all for Leonard.

"Now everyone in her circle calls her whipped!" Leonard beamed as he said it, radiating smug satisfaction.

I stood frozen in place, cold seeping through every inch of me.

He didn't notice. He just kept eating, nodding between bites.

"This is really good, by the way. Leave me your number. I'll book you directly next time."

Rowena's expression cooled instantly, her voice dropping low. "You're hired help. A cook. Don't overstep."

The warning in her tone cut through me, and a wave of bitter resentment surged up from somewhere deep.

I was the one who'd been with her first. So why was I being treated like the other man?

My chest burned. I opened my mouth, the impulse to confront her nearly spilling over.

But before I could speak, she stepped in front of Leonard, her eyes locking onto mine with a glare so vicious it didn't belong to anyone I recognized.

The words died in my throat.

Leonard didn't seem to notice anything off about her. "Rowena, what's wrong?"

The sight of them together stabbed behind my eyes like needles.

I mumbled something about having somewhere to be and practically fled, stumbling out the door.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Rowena.

Be home tonight. We need to talk.

What was left to talk about?

When we'd first gotten together, I'd even teased her once: "Your last name's Ashworth, and you just happen to work at the Ashworth Group? Don't tell me you're secretly the CEO."

I had only myself to blame for being so dense. I never followed business news, never questioned anything she told me. Whatever came out of her mouth, I believed.

A quick search told me everything. Rowena was the sole heir to the Ashworth family. She'd taken the reins at an age when most people were still figuring out their careers.

And I'd met her five years ago, waiting tables at a coffee shop. In all that time, she'd never breathed a word of it.

Looking back, the signs had been everywhere.

She'd told me all her clothes were bargain finds from thrift stores. But the fabric, the stitching, the way they drapedthey were finer than anything on a designer rack.

She'd complain about her boss running her ragged at work. But her hands were soft. Not a single callus.

I'd scrimped and saved for nearly six months to buy her a necklace for her birthday. Nothing extravagantjust a modest designer piece. Something I was proud of.

She never wore it. Not once.

When I asked about it, she'd pouted and nuzzled against me. "It's from my baby. I love it too much to wear it."

Now I understood. It wasn't that she loved it too much.

She was embarrassed by it. A necklace like that didn't belong on a CEO.

The tears came before I could stop them. I walked home half-blind, wiping my face with the back of my hand the entire way.

Late that night, the front door clicked open. Rowena stepped inside and found me sitting there, eyes swollen and red.

Something flickered across her faceguilt, maybe, or pity. She crossed the room and threw her arms around me, then let out a long sigh.

"Ulysses, don't blame me."

"Leonard's still in college. He's young, full of energy, spontaneous."

"And you... all you ever think about anymore is work and money. You can't even take me out for our anniversary without using a discount coupon."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Six months ago, Rowena had told me she'd gotten a promotion and a raise. I'd gritted my teeth and splurged on two discount coupons for a high-end steakhouse to celebrate.

I'd been so excited when I told her. Grinning ear to ear, practically bouncing.

Her face had gone cold in an instant.

She'd slammed the door on her way out that night. The celebration was over before it started.

But just moments ago, scrolling through Leonard's social media, I'd discovered the truth: that same day, she'd been on a luxury yacht, throwing a party for Leonard.

A single bottle of champagne from that party cost more than hundreds of those discount coupons combined.

I suddenly found the whole thing laughable.

A violent cramp seized my stomach, and I doubled over, retching.

Rowena panicked and rushed to hold me. "Ulysses, what's wrong?"

"Don't touch me!"

I shoved her hands away with every ounce of strength I had and forced myself upright.

I blinked the tears back.

"This thing between us... it's over."

"Just go. Don't come looking for me again."

Rowena stared at me, her eyes brimming with hurt.

I turned my back to her. I couldn't look at her anymore.

A sigh drifted from behind me.

"Ulysses, no matter what you're thinking, I've never once considered leaving you."

"If you insist on blowing this out of proportion, maybe we both need to cool down."

Her voice had gone cold. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.

Only when the door clicked shut did I feel the last of my strength drain away.

The cramping in my stomach finally won. My legs buckled, and I crumpled to the floor.

In the early hours of the morning, my phone rang.

I sighed and answered without looking at the screen.

"Stop calling. We're done"

Leonard's voice came through, thick with tears.

"Ulysses, I think my girlfriend's cheating on me. What do I do?"

"She went out all of a sudden tonight and she's still not back..."

"What else could she be doing besides keeping some boy toy on the side? She used to tell me everywhere she went!"

I didn't respond.

Or rather, I had no idea how to.

What was I supposed to say? That the woman who doted on him so attentively was actually my girlfriend?

His sobbing bled through the speaker. I said nothing and pressed the end-call button.

I didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning, I dragged myself to work with dark circles under both eyes.

I came home exhausted, only to find Leonard standing outside my apartment complex.

The second he spotted me, he rushed over. "Ulysses, can I crash at your place?"

I didn't dare let anything show. I played dumb. "Doesn't your girlfriend have money? Did you two have a fight?"

Leonard's eyes went red instantly.

"She cheated on me! I'm not spending a single cent of hers!"

"I'm still in college. You're the only person I'm close to. None of my classmates get along with me. I've got nowhere else to go..."

I couldn't bring myself to say no. So I brought him home.

Inside the cramped studio apartment, the silence was suffocating.

Leonard sniffled.

"Honestly, I don't really think she cheated. I just... I don't feel secure, you know? I figured if I threw a little tantrum, she'd care about me more."

"I mean, the gap between us is huge. I have to do something to keep her attention."

"Rowena doesn't know you, so there's no way she'd think to look for me here."

There was a smugness in his voice. I listened and couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Leonard didn't notice my silence. He was already wandering around the apartment, poking through my things.

"Ulysses, you and your girlfriend aren't that close, huh?"

I froze. Leonard was pointing at a box of ultra-thin condoms in my drawer, a sly grin plastered across his face.

"If things were good between you two, why's the packaging still sealed?"

Pride crept across his features.

"My girlfriend is insatiable. Always all over me... We never run out of condoms at our place."

"Oh, funny coincidence. My girlfriend likes lemon-flavored ones too!"

My mind went blank. A low ringing filled my ears.

The truth was, life had ground me down so hard that Rowena and I hadn't been intimate all that often.

Two months ago, she'd come home and a box of condoms had fallen out of her coat pocket.

Lemon-flavored. I'd assumed she bought them for us. I'd even felt a little shy about it.

They were for Leonard?

The humiliation hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

Leonard was still rambling, oblivious:

"I get the feeling your girlfriend doesn't really love you that much. I mean, why else would she let you live in a rental?"

"My girlfriend always says money is where the love is. That's why she gives me nothing but the best."

His tone was so guileless, so innocent. To me, every word was a knife twisting deeper.

I laughed bitterly. It wasn't that Rowena didn't understand the importance of money.

She just didn't think I was worth spending it on.

I'd never once experienced the kind of devotion she showed him. Every sentence he spoke was another cut, slow and precise, flaying me alive.

I practically fled to the bathroom.

But when I came back to the living room, Leonard was holding my phone, staring at the screen with a blank expression.

My pupils contracted.

I'd left in such a rush that I'd forgotten to lock it.

Leonard's voice came out soft, almost fragile:

"What a coincidence. Your girlfriend's name is Rowena Ashworth too?"

My hands and feet went ice-cold. Before I could say a word, there was a noise at the front door.

"Ulysses, I picked up that cake you love..."

Rowena pushed the door open and locked eyes with Leonard, who was sitting on the couch.

"You're a goddamn bastard!"

Leonard burst into tears and ran out.

Rowena panicked instantly.

She whipped around and glared at me, her face twisted with a fury I had never seen before:

"I told you I never wanted to break up with you! Why would you hurt Leonard like this?"

"You think this little stunt will drive him away? Not a chance! The more jealous you act, the harder I'll protect him!"

She shoved my hand away when I tried to explain and rushed after Leonard.

The motion was too forceful. She knocked the piggy bank off the shelf.

Ceramic shards exploded across the floor, and with them, a shower of loose change.

I ignored the cut on my ankle and stared at the coins scattered on the ground.

Those first few years after I started working, the hours were brutal and the pay was pitiful. Rowena had bought that piggy bank specifically for me, told me to toss in whatever spare change I had.

She'd joked that we'd save up enough for a penthouse someday.

She forgot about it eventually. I never did. I kept dropping coins in, one by one. Sometimes I'd even go to the farmers' market and ask vendors to break bills into change.

As if filling that jar meant Rowena and I would finally have a home of our own.

I crouched down and counted the coins slowly.

Most of them were dimes and nickels. Barely any quarters.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough to buy a plane ticket out of here.

I didn't know what Rowena said to Leonard.

That night, a post went viral, trending on every platform.

Leonard had publicly accused me by name of being a homewrecker. He claimed I'd used cooking dinner as a cover story when I was really hunting for a sugar mama, trying to seduce someone else's girlfriend.

He sobbed through the whole video, tears streaming down his face:

"We just had a little fight, my girlfriend and I. I never imagined I'd run into someone like him. If my girlfriend didn't love only me, he might've actually stolen her away!"

He let my phone number, personal details, and home address slip into the post, as if by accident.

Within minutes, my phone was overwhelmed. An endless flood of slurs, threats, and abuse poured in from every direction.

A deafening crash came from outside my door. Someone had hurled red paint across it. On the wall beside it, someone had scrawled the words "HOMEWRECKER" and "SHAMELESS."

I stood there shaking with rage, wanting to confront Rowena.

But the moment I stepped outside, a rock struck me hard.

Searing pain exploded at my temple. In the last second before everything went dark, I heard a voice dripping with contempt:

"Homewreckers who have the nerve to show their faces in public deserve to die!"

I opened my eyes in a hospital bed.

The nurse told me it was only early-stage stomach cancer. There was still hope for a cure. She urged me not to give up on treatment.

I stared blankly ahead, my hand drifting to my stomach. Only then did the recent warning signs click into place.

Along with the pain came a crushing wave of irony.

The next day, I dragged my weakened body back to my apartment, only to find my landlord standing in the doorway, red-faced and furious.

"Get the hell out! I'm not renting my place to some man-stealing piece of trash!"

He'd rather forfeit my deposit than let me stay another night.

As I wheeled my suitcase through the door, he spat on the ground behind me.

"Disgusting. You look like a decent person, but you're nothing but a shameless homewrecker!"

Rowena called. Her voice was low, measured.

"Ulysses, I never wanted us to be apart. But you hurt Leonard. There has to be some kind of consequence."

"He's already calmed down. You can come back to Ashworth Group anytime. Ulysses, I truly want to protect you."

I hung up, hard. The nausea I'd been holding back surged through my chest, and I doubled over, dry heaving on the sidewalk.

Rowena probably assumed I had nowhere left to turn. That she was my only lifeline.

What she didn't know was that I'd already planned to leave.

I flagged down a cab heading for the airport. The draft in my phone was already finished, every word polished and ready.

Leonard wasn't the only one who could post online.

Laid out on a proper timeline, it was Leonard who was the real interloper. The one everyone should have been cursing.

I hit send. Then I turned around and took one last look at the city I'd poured seven years of my life into.

Then I boarded the flight to Southport.

Meanwhile, an assistant burst into the office in a panic.

"Ms. Ashworth, Mr. Henson just posted your entire relationship timeline online!"

"He's saying Leonard was the other man!"