I Dumped My Fake-Poor Billionaire Husband

Chapter 5

Watching Ethan Sinclair's face darken with rage, I finally felt the tight knot of fury in my chest begin to loosen.

He sneered, "You're nothing but a bitter shrew!"

I didn't flinch. Men like him didn't deserve grace. They only understood cruelty.

Isabella Montgomery clung to his arm, blinking up at him with crocodile tears. "Ethan, don't be mad. Miss Reynolds must be so in love with you she can't let go. She even called me a homewrecker…"

Ethan turned to me with a smug look. "The one who isn't loved is the real homewrecker."

I didn't even blink.

Because I didn't love him anymore.

Hadn't for a long time.

So nothing he said could touch me.

But that slap must've knocked some sense into him—because he finally agreed to sign the divorce papers.

If I'd known all it took was a slap, I would've done it a year ago.

The day I got those papers, I felt like I could breathe again.

Freedom. Finally.

A failed marriage wasn't the end of the world—what mattered was knowing when to walk away.

Ethan even sent me a hundred grand afterward, calling it "compensation."

I laughed so hard I cried.

Three years together, and to him, I was worth a measly hundred thousand?

I wired it right back.

Some things you don't put a price on.

Dignity is one of them.

After that, I buried myself in work, saving every penny for a place my mom and I could finally call home.

One morning at the office, a coworker leaned over and whispered gossip like it was gold:

Isabella had been outed by the paparazzi—turns out, all that luxury came from being some rich old man's mistress. The guy dumped her the second the news broke.

I hadn't kept up with Ethan or Isabella. I figured they'd gotten married and gone on to ruin each other's lives in peace.

The news didn't faze me. Just some tabloid fodder to scroll past at lunch.

But later that evening, outside the building, a man was leaning against a blood-red Ferrari like he was posing for a magazine shoot.

Ethan.

The second he spotted me, he lit up like I was the prize at the end of a scavenger hunt. "Audrey, let me give you a ride home."

I didn't even slow down. Where was all this enthusiasm when he was ignoring my texts and lying to my face?

Oh, right—Isabella dumped him.

And now he remembered me.

But I wasn't anyone's backup plan. And I sure as hell wasn't a trash can for his regrets.

He stepped in front of me. "Still mad at me?"

I looked him dead in the eyes. "We're divorced, Ethan. We're done. There's nothing left to talk about."

He gave me that pitiful, lovesick look he probably practiced in the mirror.

"I was wrong, okay? I messed up. But now I know—you were the one who truly loved me. Let's start over. Let's get married again."

I stared at him like he'd lost his damn mind.

He really thought I'd fall all over myself because he finally noticed what he threw away?

And of course, he pulled out the money card.

"You'll live in my mansion. I'll put your name on the deed. Monthly allowance. You'll never have to work again."

I didn't say a word. Just watched him dig his own grave with every smug offer.

He took my silence as hesitation and doubled down.

"Come on, Audrey. This is your last chance at the life you always dreamed of. Otherwise, you'll rot in that cheap little rental forever."

He knew my dream had always been to own a place of my own. He just didn't realize I'd rather live in a shoebox than sell my soul.

"You're disgusting, Ethan."

"The second I found out you were lying to me, whatever I felt for you died. So do me a favor—get lost, you fraud."