Divorced, Then He Inherited a Fortune Chapter 1

The day Fred and I walked out of the courthouse with our finalized divorce papers in hand, his billionaire father finally tracked him down.

His old man was sitting on a multi-billion dollar empire. We are talking about a sprawling three-story estate and a subterranean garage packed to the brim with luxury cars. Fred was his one and only heir. Suddenly, his future was blindingly bright, and I had just been officially reduced to the role of the ex-wife.

Damn it. What kind of joke was this?

I had dragged myself through the mud and starved right alongside him for ten long years!

* * *

I never in a million years imagined I was only one signature away from becoming a billionaire's wife.

The regret was eating me alive. I was furious! How could fate be so endlessly cruel to me? What did I do to deserve this?

Fred and I had been together since we were eighteen. He was dead broke for a solid decade. Even the ring he proposed to me with was fashioned out of a pull-tab from a soda can! When things were at their absolute worst, we were crammed into a tiny, two-hundred-square-foot studio apartment, surviving on ten dollars a day and washing down stale bread with tap water.

But look at him now. Fred had hit the ultimate jackpot, and we were legally strangers.

If my best friend Brooke had not come running over to congratulate me on becoming a filthy rich socialite, I would have never known. I still had Fred's social media blocked. That very afternoon, barely a month after our divorce, this bombshell news blew my entire reality to pieces.

It was also that same afternoon when Fred rolled up in a sleek black Maybach just to rub it in my face.

He stepped out of the luxury ride looking like a magazine cover, decked out in a tailored suit and tie. Dark aviators covered half his face, leaving only his sharp jawline and tightly pressed lips visible. He looked ridiculously, devastatingly handsome.

I will admit it right now. A huge reason I agreed to marry him back then was simply because he was gorgeous. A one-in-a-million kind of gorgeous.

Just picture it. A fresh-faced, fiercely passionate eighteen-year-old boy handing his entire heart over to you. How could anyone resist that? Not to mention, given his legendary high school track record of taking down every tough guy across five neighboring districts without losing a single fight, his stamina was absolutely incredible.

Look, I am only human. The attraction was intoxicating. You would have fallen for it too.

But who could have guessed that ten years of grinding poverty would shatter that rose-tinted filter into dust.

And yet, here he was again, tall and commanding and gorgeous, because money had just given him the ultimate glow-up.

As he handed me a manila folder, the heavy luxury watch on his wrist caught the afternoon sun. The diamonds were so blindingly bright they almost seared my retinas.

So my question is, under these specific circumstances, can I take him back to family court and petition for a brand new division of assets?

Asking for a friend. It is urgent.