My Wife Knew Everything

I slammed the zero-alimony divorce agreement onto the desk right in front of my billionaire wife.

A letter of intent covered the front page, disguising the whole thing as a purchase contract for a Manhattan penthouse.

The second I crossed over into this novel, I realized I was stuck in the body of the most pathetic simp alive.

The original owner of this body let his wife's two-faced ex-boyfriend relentlessly gaslight him the moment the guy moved back to the States. He took it like a total coward. And now? Now he was secretly tricking her into signing this paper just to hand over this Beverly Hills mansion to them on a silver platter.

But I was not that spineless loser.

Wrapped in a custom silk robe, my wife didn't even bother to glance my way. She kept her eyes glued to her phone, firing off flirty texts to her ex, while her free hand absentmindedly grabbed a Montblanc pen and flipped to the very last page.

[Just sign it. The second you sign, I'm getting the hell out of this dump.]

I chanted in my head.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The pen clattered onto the desk.

Her head snapped up, eyes locking dead onto mine.

But my lips remained sealed.

Red alert. My wife could hear my inner thoughts.

Chapter 1

"What kind of garbage contract do you absolutely need me to sign right now? Can't you see I'm busy?" My wife, Blaire, snatched the pen from my hand with an impatient scowl.

Her phone screen was lit up on the desk, filled with flirty texts with her damn ex-boyfriend, Tristan.

I had just crossed over into this novel, arriving at the exact moment the original owner was tricking his wife into signing a divorce agreement. All because her ex was flying back to the States. The original owner was generously clearing out to make room for him.

According to the original script, the original owner pathetically tricked her into thinking it was a purchase agreement for a Manhattan penthouse. The billionaire Blaire didn't even bat an eye, flipping straight to the last page to sign.

But I wasn't going to play it out like that.

I always believed in one principle: I must take back every single cent that belongs to me, and I refuse to be a weak loser. I settle my scores. An eye for an eye.

Okay, fine. You caught me. I'm not that noble.

The main issue was that this was a zero-alimony divorce agreement.

Why should I accept that?

Signed that damn prenup three years ago, served her like a manservant in this mansion for three years without even crossing her bedroom threshold, why should I walk away with nothing?

The original owner played high and mighty with his platonic true love bullshit, but in reality, he was a pathetic backup simp, walking away with zero alimony and even paying out of pocket.

I wasn't like him. I wasted three of my best years in this mansion, and there's no way in hell I'm walking away empty-handed.

Was it that I didn't want to touch Blaire?

She always played the ice queen, claiming she had a severe physical touch aversion and that a man's touch disgusted her.

A woman like that.

And the original owner still intended to leave with nothing, not taking a single cent from her family's fortune. Then what were you still doing here in the last 30 days before that strict prenup took effect? Just hoping Blaire would change her mind before his delusional dream shattered?

What a hypocrite.

Blaire's attention was glued to her screen. She flipped to the last page of the document, hovering the pen to sign her name.

I stepped forward and snatched the papers away.

I tore that zero-alimony divorce agreement to shreds without a second thought.

Blaire looked up, annoyed by my erratic behavior. "Ezra, what the hell are you doing?"

I didn't sugarcoat it. "It's a divorce agreement. I messed up some of the clauses. I'll get you a new copy later."

[Good thing I ripped it up. A woman like Blaire doesn't deserve me walking away with nothing.]

[I'm not making room for her ex-boyfriend without a hundred-million-dollar payout.]

"What?!" Blaire froze.

Her hand hovered mid-air when I mentioned the word divorce. She snapped her head toward me, her eyes wide.

She saw my lips pressed tightly together. Yet, she had clearly heard those last two sentences.

What the hell?

Her breath snagged, and the arrogant curve of her lips pulled into a rigid, trembling line. She probed, testing the waters, "Ezra, you want a divorce? Why?"

Since it was out in the open, I dropped the act.

I leaned against the desk, playing the generous husband. "Isn't your ex coming back to the States? I'm giving you two a chance to be together out in the open. It saves you from a massive PR scandal about CEO Blaire cheating."

[Wasting three years of my life for nothing. I want to smack the living daylights out of her.]

[I can't let her off easy. Is a hundred million too little?]

[Maybe a billion?]

Her chest heaved. Her jaw tightened, a scoff catching in her throat, glaring at me like I had just asked to buy the moon. She finally realized those voices were coming straight from my head.

"I have never considered a divorce!" Blaire slammed her hand on the desk.

"Tristan and I are strictly friends. Stop being paranoid. Do not bring up this divorce nonsense again!"

I swung my arm and slapped her right across the face.

I couldn't be bothered to waste another word on her.

"I just committed domestic violence! Are we getting a divorce now?"

Chapter 2

[If I don't divorce her soon, her entire family is going bankrupt, and I won't get a single cent.]

[No way. I have to divorce Blaire today!]

[Besides, I need that payout. Who else is going to pay for her family's funerals when they all go under?]

Blaire stood frozen, her cheek turning red from my slap.

I had been her pathetic simp for three years. She never expected me to raise a hand against her.

Her chest heaved. I could see her knuckles turn white, ready to order her security to break both my legs.

But the next second, my inner thoughts hit her ears. The flush of anger vanished from her cheeks, leaving behind a bloodless, sickening pallor.

What? Her family going bankrupt? Me paying for their funerals? Absolutely not.

As the CEO of her consortium, that empire wasn't just her family. It was her lifeblood, her ultimate goal.

She would rather die than see her family lose everything. She would sacrifice anythinglove, her marriageto protect that wealth.

In the end, she refused to agree to the divorce.

I didn't know what was going through her head. I didn't care either.

Wouldn't it be easier to just sign the papers and be with Tristan out in the open?

She ripped the new agreement I pulled out to shreds, stormed into her master bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

"I'll die before I sign anything!" she yelled through the thick oak door.

I rolled my eyes. How was I supposed to kill you with a locked door between us?

This home no, this was never my home.

I needed to get out. If I stayed any longer, her precious ex-boyfriend would be moving his bags in.

I just found that two-faced snake repulsive. Punching him would only dirty my hands.

I went to my room and packed my things right then and there.

Two massive Louis Vuitton suitcases, packed with the Rolexes and custom suits I rightfully earned over the past three years.

This included all the expensive gifts Blaire bought me just to keep up appearances.

The original owner was too proud to take anything, but I wanted it all. Why would I say no to hard cash?

Unlike the original owner who slinked away in secret.

Once in the Uber, I immediately posted a public Instagram update.

[Image: A torn-up prenup. Caption: I, Ezra, have officially cut ties with Blaire, who is still a virgin after three years of marriage.]

As for her consortium's PR crisis and whether their Wall Street stocks would tank, what did that have to do with me?

I was just the disposable husband, the useless loser they all looked down on.

After posting the Instagram update, I powered off my phone and told the driver to floor it out of this suffocating Beverly Hills mansion.

I left the city limits.

I returned to the rundown old Brooklyn apartment I bought before the marriage.

An orphan with no annoying family background, which was one of the conditions Blaire's family forced on me when signing that twisted prenup. The crappy apartment was small, but I always hired a cleaning service, so it was ready to move in.

I crashed on my own bed in my real home. For the first time in years, I slept soundly until dawn.

No more waking up early to brew her custom pour-over coffee. No more looking at her arrogant, cold face. And definitely no more acting like a personal valet, fetching her dry-cleaned haute couture and designer bags

I shook my head. How did the original owner live such a pathetic, spineless life?

Blaire woke up early the next morning. Her phone had died overnight after a long video call with her best friend.

She plugged in the charger. The moment the screen lit up, her entire world crashed down.

99+ missed calls and messages. They were all from her parents, her younger sister Phoebe, and a few close friends.

Her parents and sister were on vacation in Europe. Did something happen?

Her mind immediately flashed back to my thoughts about her family going bankrupt, and her fingers trembled as she dialed her father's number.

Chapter 3

The second the call connected, her father's furious roar blasted through the speaker. "You ungrateful brat! Call Ezra right now and make him delete that Instagram post!"

Her mother's sobbing voice echoed in the background. "Delete what? Let the whole world see what kind of monster Blaire really is! I'm cutting her out of my life. She is no longer my daughter!"

Blaire's brows knitted together, her lips parting slightly without a sound. She knew her mother adored me, but to disown her own flesh and blood? I must have fed them some twisted lies.

She hung up and frantically opened my Instagram.

"Ah!"

One glance, and her mind short-circuited. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor.

The words "still a virgin" felt like four vicious slaps across her face, burning her cheeks crimson. Some things were meant to stay behind closed doors, not blasted across the internet by her own husband.

How would the entire high-society circle mock her now? Would they say her husband was impotent, or that she was such a frigid bitch she couldn't even attract her own man? Or would they say she cruelly bullied her contracted husband just to keep herself pure for her precious ex?

"Ezra!"

For the first time in three years of marriage, Blaire stormed into my room.

It was stripped bare. I was gone, and so was all my stuff.

She scrambled to check the security footage, only to watch me drag my Louis Vuitton suitcases out of the mansion without a single backward glance.

She collapsed onto the cold floor. Her breathing hitched. If you asked her yesterday, she would have sworn on her life that she didn't feel a shred of affection for me. But now? Her chest felt hollowed out.

Blaire tracked me down faster than I expected.

I had just woken up and was about to head down to the hot dog stand downstairs to grab a quick bite. Her dazzling Rolls-Royce Phantom was already parked right outside my rundown apartment building.

The flawless, untouchable billionaire beauty from yesterday was gone. Her hair was a tangled mess. She was still wearing her silk pajamas under a designer coat. She hadn't even washed her face.

Her shoulders slumped, the vibrant energy of the billionaire CEO replaced by a hollow, vacant stare.

[Look at this bitch. Did Tristan dump her again?]

[Tsk. Blaire is just another pathetic simp after all!]

[Me and her what a tragic joke!]

Blaire rolled her bloodshot eyes. "E Hub Hubby, can I come in?"

This time, the words died in my throat. A bomb went off in my brain.

Hubby? She hadn't called me that once in three whole years!

[This bitch suddenly calling me hubby? I want to smack her again. She's definitely a snake in the grass, plotting something.]

[I need to keep my guard up.]

I finally stepped aside and let her in. The nosey neighbors in the hallway were already poking their heads out to watch the drama.

"Spit it out. We have nothing to talk about except the divorce agreement," I said, crossing my arms. "If you don't sign it soon, I'm going to actually beat you. Or should I just go cheat on you?"

"Is that it? Are you pissed because I asked for too much money? Fine, pay me whatever you think is fair."

Regret hit me the second the words left my mouth.

[Fuck, why did I tell her to pay whatever? What if she doesn't give me a single cent?]

[I can't actually beat her or go cheat on her, right?]

[I can't just hit the club and book ten supermodels like other newly divorced rich guys, can I?]

[Damn my strong principles. I don't even know how to be a proper scumbag.]

Blaire lowered her head, staying silent for a long moment. When she finally looked up, her eyes pleaded with me.

"Hubby, I have never once considered divorcing you!"

I let out a cold sneer.

[Of course you don't. Keep the safe husband at home while you screw around outside.]

[Trash!]

Blaire let out a frustrated sigh. "I would never cheat on you!"

I glared at her, my upper lip curling in revulsion.

[But you will emotionally cheat!]

[You two-faced hypocritical bitch!]

Chapter 4

Blaire raised her right hand like she was standing in a courtroom. "I swear, my body and my mind belong only to you."

It suddenly clicked.

[So this bitch is just trying to stall me. She wants to keep me on the hook for a few months, maybe a year, before dumping me.]

[What a manipulative snake!]

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her complexion turned ashen. If it were yesterday, she probably would have had exactly that plan. But right now, her trembling shoulders and the hollow look in her eyes told a different story.

Tristan was just some distant illusion. I, the man who had stood by her for three years, was the harsh reality staring her in the face.

She didn't give up, pivoting straight to the guilt trip. "Mom saw your Instagram post. She passed out."

"She still hasn't woken up."

"Dad has a bad heart. You know that."

Her parents had always treated me like their own son, they just rarely stayed in the city. Ever since Blaire took over the consortium, the old couple spent their time flying around the globe. But they constantly called and texted the original owner to check in.

Especially my mother-in-law. One time, she dragged a blackout-drunk Blaire and threw her right onto his bed. Another time, she straight-up spiked Blaire's champagne. Too bad the original owner was out of his damn mind, insisting on playing the perfect gentleman, refusing to take advantage of her.

It made my mother-in-law so furiously heartbroken she wanted to personally lock the two of them in a hotel honeymoon suite.

Thanks to her parents dragging themselves into this mess, hitting pause on the divorce proceedings was my only option. They were genuinely the only people in this world who treated me with any real kindness. Being an orphan, I couldn't help but cling to that tiny scrap of family warmth.

I deleted the Instagram post, but flat-out refused Blaire's demand to post an explanation. As I shoved her toward the front door to kick her out, my mind started racing.

[If I knew getting a divorce was going to be this much of a headache, I would've just tricked her into signing it last night.]

[Then I could've booked a direct flight out of the country.]

[If I head over a month early, maybe I can still run into my old college cheerleader crush.]

[Damn it, I don't even have Aurora's contact info anymore.]

[I need to expedite my passport. I'm flying to Paris to find her in a few days.]

In the original novel, the guy divorced, moved abroad, and happened to bump into Aurora, the former college cheerleader. Aurora went toe-to-toe with Blaire in everythingfamily wealth, drop-dead gorgeous looks, killer figure. Most importantly, the two of them were absolute sworn enemies.

"You! You you!" Blaire's posture crumbled the second she heard my thoughts.

Listening to me openly reminisce about my old college cheerleader crush, even plotting to buy a plane ticket to Paris to track her down? What for? To seamlessly transition to my next sugar daddy? To relive some pathetic old fantasy before the divorce papers were even inked?

Her chest heaved in sharp, erratic gasps. A sickening cocktail of jealousy and rage flushed her neck deep red. The thought of me standing at an altar, slipping a ring onto another woman's finger and not just any woman. My old cheerleader crush. Aurora.

We all graduated from the exact same university. Aurora was her ultimate nemesis.

The air hitched in Blaire's throat. A sickening heat flushed her neck, turning her eyes a rabid, bloodshot red as her nails dug crescent moons into her palms.

"Ezra!" She gritted out my name, biting down on every single syllable.

I took a step back, genuinely thrown off. I had no idea what the hell just triggered this sudden psycho meltdown.

[What is wrong with this bitch now?]

[Did she change her mind again?]

[Ugh! If she's dead set on making me leave with absolutely nothing, fine. But when this bitch inevitably gets herself killed down the line, I'm not paying a dime for her funeral.]

The roaring fire in Blaire's eyes instantly snuffed out. The blood drained from her face. She wasn't an idiot. Judging by her sudden, terrifying stillness, she had already figured out that I could predict the future.

Chapter 5

The thought of her entire family's empire collapsing into dust must have rooted her to the spot. She swallowed her questions about Aurora. I could see the exact moment the gears shifted in her head. She must have realized that the only way to save her family's empire was by leeching off my inner thoughts. And that meant absolutely no divorce.

Once she made up her mind, Blaire's ruthless businesswoman instincts kicked into overdrive. I watched her eyes dart around as she mentally tallied her chips. Money? I asked for cash, but my willingness to sign that zero-alimony prenup meant money couldn't control me.

Family? As an orphan, I craved it, but I was just plotting to catch a flight out of the country. Love and marriage? She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders slumping. She knew damn well she hadn't been a real wife for the past three years. Right now, her only remaining bargaining chip was the one thing she thought I cared about most, her precious virginity.

"What the hell is going through your head, Blaire?" I snapped. "Are you leaving or not?"

She snapped out of her daze. "I'm not leaving. We aren't divorced yet. Your home is my home." She lifted her chin defiantly. "Is it a crime to stay in my own house?"

She was clearly planning to stick to me 24/7 to block me from fleeing the country. And somehow, I couldn't manage to kick this stray dog out of my apartment!

Over the next few days, the high-and-mighty Blaire shed her polished CEO armor. During the day, she lowered herself to take international video calls from my beat-up couch. At night, she even tried to sneak into my bedroom wearing sheer lace lingerie.

She clung to me like a stage-five clinger. It was an unnatural shift that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. What sick trap was she setting up now? She constantly dropped subtle hints, trying to pry information out of me about my old cheerleader crush, Aurora. I kept my lips tightly sealed.

On top of that, she started bringing up consortium business with me. That set off all my red flags. When they forced me into this marriage three years ago, Blaire laid down three ironclad rules. No talking about love. No talking about company business. And absolutely no talking about having kids.

"Blaire, what the hell is your endgame here?" I finally blew up. I couldn't stand her suffocating closeness anymore. Just minutes ago, she forced herself next to me on the couch to watch a movie, and then she actually tried to massage my scalp. What the fuck happened to her severe physical touch aversion?

"Are you trying to butter me up so you can harvest my kidney or heart for your damn ex-boyfriend?"

[My organs are literally the only valuable things left on my body. I need to escape tonight!]

Blaire let out a heavy sigh. Over the past few days, she had been desperately kissing my ass. She washed my laundry, fried bacon for my American breakfasts, and even shamelessly tried to crawl into my bed.

But I didn't give a single damn about her desperate attempts to please me. Right now, she just looked like a pathetic, dancing clown.

She bit her lip, clearly deciding to pull her ultimate trump card and call her mother for backup. "You are my husband. I will only treat you well for the rest of my life," she insisted, her voice trembling slightly. "I swear to God!"

I could read her face like a book. Over the last few days, she must have figured out her priorities. Toss love and marriage out the window. Stopping her consortium from imploding was the only thing that mattered. She could survive a loveless marriage. But without her family's wealth and protection, she wouldn't just crash and burn, her entire bloodline would meet a brutal end.

Blaire's ruthless business IQ kicked in as she dropped the bomb. "Hubby, my parents and Phoebe are flying back from Europe today. Let's go back to the family estate."

The second she brought up my in-laws, my defenses crumbled. I was always too soft when it came to them. It is impossible to reject the only people who ever showed me genuine kindness. Fine. I will see them one last time and lay everything out on the table. I wasn't going to vanish like a ghost the way the original owner did.

Smack!

Smack!

The second we walked through the massive double doors of the estate, my mother-in-law and father-in-law each delivered a vicious slap right across Blaire's face.

Chapter 6