Divorced with poor money, Happier Than Ever Chapter 1

My husband found the perfect excuse to juggle both me and his “colleague” openly and without shame.

Before our marriage, I signed a prenuptial confidentiality agreement, agreeing to remain the hidden wife of an Academy Award Winner. If I ever initiated a divorce, I’d walk away with only $18.80 in compensation.

For three years of marriage, I’ve watched him flaunt his so-called "Publicity Stunt Pairing" with that colleague. They’ve traveled together, attended events as a couple, and even been photographed entering private hotels arm in arm.

Meanwhile, as his “perfect housewife,” I’ve been stuck caring for his bedridden parents and working as his assistant—washing his clothes, cooking his meals, and putting up with his excuses.

I didn’t realize how far this charade would go until one night, when his “Shining Star” called, whining about fans begging them to marry.

“When are you going to make me your wife?” she pouted.

He replied softly, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you the wedding of the century soon. Promise.”

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