Chapter 1 · Exposed: My Billionaire Ex-Husband

My husband was dead.

No, scratch that. Technically, he went missing.

He left behind a signed divorce agreement, two unlimited black cards, and the deed to a spacious apartment in downtown Cloudville, a place I'd never even set foot in.

I sat on the cold plastic chair at the police station, clutching it all, my mind a total blank.

The officer next to me said, "To be blunt, Miss, he's already given you everything he could."

Just then, a neon green comment suddenly floated before my eyes.

[Don't be fooled. Alton isn't some fried chicken restaurant owner. He's the only heir to the Walker Group. His family exiled him three years ago, and now that his dad is on his deathbed, Alton has gone back to fight for the family fortune.]

I froze, thinking I must be hallucinating after working back-to-back night shifts.

But then, another comment floated by.

[Alton's ex-wife from Cloudville is just a prop. Alton was faking it the whole time. Even that cute fang that poked her lip when he smiled was glued on.]

I instinctively reached for the corner of my mouth, and my hand instantly went cold.

My name was Iris Murphy. I was twenty-six, and I'd been working as a nurse in the ER at Cloudville General Hospital for four years.

Four years of night shifts in the ER taught me one thing. People were often eerily calm right before they broke down.

Right now, I was eerily calm.

I stuffed the two black cards and the deed into my canvas bag, got on my bike—which was even more beat-up than his old scooter—and headed back to the place we used to call home. No, the place I rented.

The pickling jar was still by the door, with the rock he'd just added before he left.

I didn't look at it.

I went inside.

I tossed my bag onto the bed.

Then I curled up in the corner, hugging my knees, and sat there motionless for twenty minutes.

A comment flashed by again.

[Alton is cold-blooded, but he's not entirely without feelings. At least he left her two black cards, each loaded with 1.5 million dollars.]

3 million dollars.

My monthly paycheck was 1,300 dollars.

If I didn't spend a single cent, I'd have to work for over 2,300 years to make that much.

[What a shame Iris just can't move on. She's so hard-headed that she's heading to Belletown to confront Alton. In the end, she'll burn through all that cash and wind up totally ruined.]

I stared at the neon green words, taking it all in.

Then I got up and went to the kitchen to boil some water.

When the water boiled, I figured something out.

Whether those comments were just hallucinations from my messed-up brain or something else entirely, one thing was certain.

Alton wasn't worth looking for.

Since he could meticulously fake it for two whole years, feelings were nothing but a tool to him.

The money he left me wasn't out of guilt. It was just hush money.

I made myself a plate of pasta and added two eggs. Halfway through, another comment flashed by.

[If Iris were smart, she'd just take that 3 million dollars and live her life well. Alton wouldn't bother with her anymore. But she won't.]

"No, I will," I mumbled, slurping my pasta.

"I'm going to live my life well, no matter what."

The next day, I went to work.

The ER was as hectic as ever. Car crash victims, folks who'd downed pesticide, parents bursting in at midnight, carrying their feverish kids.

Amy Reed, my coworker, noticed my red eyes and assumed I'd had another fight with Alton.

"What's up with you two lovebirds this time? Did he splash you with fried chicken grease again?"

I tugged at my mask. "We broke up."

"What?"

"He's gone. He's not coming back."

Amy froze for a few seconds, then wrapped me in a hug. "That jerk! I never liked him. Seriously, what's so special about a fried chicken guy anyway?"

Another comment scrolled right above Amy's head.

[Uh oh, is Iris about to cause a scene at the hospital? Alton only picked her because she was so quiet and easy to control. Who knew she'd still be so hung up on him after the breakup?]

I gently moved Amy's hand away. "It's okay, Amy. I've figured things out. I'm really fine."

Amy shot me a skeptical look.

I just smiled, then lowered my head and went to change the bandages for the patient in bed three.

I'd figured things out.

Honestly, I had.

3 million dollars, two unlimited black cards, and a whole apartment. What kind of fried chicken restaurant owner could give that as a breakup settlement?

This was all a setup from the start.

I was just the dumbest extra in his story.

But even side characters got to live their own way.

After work, I headed to the bank.

I moved all the money from those two black cards into my own account, splitting it into twelve transfers, each one just under the threshold for flagged transactions.

Working those night shifts in the ER taught me another lesson. When handling a problem, one should do it fast, do it clean, and never leave oneself any loose ends.

Then I made my way to that large apartment in the heart of Cloudville.

It was the first time I ever used the keycard to step inside.

The place was 1,500 square feet, high-end and move-in ready, with every piece of furniture in place. Even the fridge was packed with yogurt and cherries he'd stashed there ahead of time.

The expiration date was next month.

He even worked out exactly how long I'd last on the food he left for me.

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the sparse city lights of Cloudville at night, and suddenly, I couldn't help but laugh at how absurd it all was.

Two years.

Seven hundred and thirty days.

Chapter 1

My husband was dead.

No, scratch that. Technically, he went missing.

He left behind a signed divorce agreement, two unlimited black cards, and the deed to a spacious apartment in downtown Cloudville, a place I'd never even set foot in.

I sat on the cold plastic chair at the police station, clutching it all, my mind a total blank.

The officer next to me said, "To be blunt, Miss, he's already given you everything he could."

Just then, a neon green comment suddenly floated before my eyes.

I froze, thinking I must be hallucinating after working back-to-back night shifts.

But then, another comment floated by.

[Alton's ex-wife from Cloudville is just a prop. Alton was faking it the whole time. Even that cute fang that poked her lip when he smiled was glued on.]

I instinctively reached for the corner of my mouth, and my hand instantly went cold.

My name was Iris Murphy. I was twenty-six, and I'd been working as a nurse in the ER at Cloudville General Hospital for four years.

Four years of night shifts in the ER taught me one thing. People were often eerily calm right before they broke down.

Right now, I was eerily calm.

The pickling jar was still by the door, with the rock he'd just added before he left.

I didn't look at it.

I went inside.

I tossed my bag onto the bed.

Then I curled up in the corner, hugging my knees, and sat there motionless for twenty minutes.

A comment flashed by again.

[Alton is cold-blooded, but he's not entirely without feelings. At least he left her two black cards, each loaded with 1.5 million dollars.]

3 million dollars.

My monthly paycheck was 1,300 dollars.

If I didn't spend a single cent, I'd have to work for over 2,300 years to make that much.

[What a shame Iris just can't move on. She's so hard-headed that she's heading to Belletown to confront Alton. In the end, she'll burn through all that cash and wind up totally ruined.]

I stared at the neon green words, taking it all in.

Then I got up and went to the kitchen to boil some water.

When the water boiled, I figured something out.

Whether those comments were just hallucinations from my messed-up brain or something else entirely, one thing was certain.

Alton wasn't worth looking for.

Since he could meticulously fake it for two whole years, feelings were nothing but a tool to him.

The money he left me wasn't out of guilt. It was just hush money.

I made myself a plate of pasta and added two eggs. Halfway through, another comment flashed by.

[If Iris were smart, she'd just take that 3 million dollars and live her life well. Alton wouldn't bother with her anymore. But she won't.]

"No, I will," I mumbled, slurping my pasta.

"I'm going to live my life well, no matter what."

The next day, I went to work.

The ER was as hectic as ever. Car crash victims, folks who'd downed pesticide, parents bursting in at midnight, carrying their feverish kids.

Amy Reed, my coworker, noticed my red eyes and assumed I'd had another fight with Alton.

"What's up with you two lovebirds this time? Did he splash you with fried chicken grease again?"

I tugged at my mask. "We broke up."

"What?"

"He's gone. He's not coming back."

Amy froze for a few seconds, then wrapped me in a hug. "That jerk! I never liked him. Seriously, what's so special about a fried chicken guy anyway?"

Another comment scrolled right above Amy's head.

[Uh oh, is Iris about to cause a scene at the hospital? Alton only picked her because she was so quiet and easy to control. Who knew she'd still be so hung up on him after the breakup?]

I gently moved Amy's hand away. "It's okay, Amy. I've figured things out. I'm really fine."

Amy shot me a skeptical look.

I just smiled, then lowered my head and went to change the bandages for the patient in bed three.

I'd figured things out.

Honestly, I had.

3 million dollars, two unlimited black cards, and a whole apartment. What kind of fried chicken restaurant owner could give that as a breakup settlement?

This was all a setup from the start.

I was just the dumbest extra in his story.

But even side characters got to live their own way.

After work, I headed to the bank.

I moved all the money from those two black cards into my own account, splitting it into twelve transfers, each one just under the threshold for flagged transactions.

Working those night shifts in the ER taught me another lesson. When handling a problem, one should do it fast, do it clean, and never leave oneself any loose ends.

Then I made my way to that large apartment in the heart of Cloudville.

It was the first time I ever used the keycard to step inside.

The place was 1,500 square feet, high-end and move-in ready, with every piece of furniture in place. Even the fridge was packed with yogurt and cherries he'd stashed there ahead of time.

The expiration date was next month.

He even worked out exactly how long I'd last on the food he left for me.

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the sparse city lights of Cloudville at night, and suddenly, I couldn't help but laugh at how absurd it all was.

Two years.

Seven hundred and thirty days.