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My Cruel Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage Novel Cover

My Cruel Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

I spun the dial on the hidden wall safe, expecting to find the Glock 19 Aiden insisted I keep. Instead, I found a ledger proving my husband, the Mafia's most feared Enforcer, was funding a secret family with my dead father's money. For seven years, I had been his obedient doll. I cleaned the blood off his knuckles and justified his violence. But the ledger showed he had siphoned my entire inheritance into a trust for a child he had with his brother's wife. When I tried to leave, his mistress framed me as a spy. Aiden didn't ask for proof. He didn't hesitate. He dragged me to a damp warehouse, hooded me, and beat me until my ribs cracked. He left me to rot in the dark, ignoring the diamond bracelet on my wrist—the very one he had gifted me the day before as a symbol of his "ownership." He thought he had broken me. He thought I would die in that basement, a silent collateral of his rage. But he made a fatal mistake. He left me alive. I escaped through a ventilation grate and ran straight to the one man Aiden feared most: his sworn enemy, Jensen Levy. "Make me a weapon," I told him. Two years later, I walked back into Aiden's office. Not as his battered wife, but as the CEO of the corporation that had just bought his empire's debt. He looked at me with horror, realizing the ghost he created had come back to burn him down. "Hello, Aiden," I said, pressing a high-voltage tactical pen against his chest. "You're trespassing."
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Chapter 2

Charlotte POV

My phone buzzed against the vanity, vibrating with a text from Clara.

Running late. Drinks at 8?

Clara was the only friend Aiden allowed me to have-mostly because she was tech support for the Family, and he figured he owned her just as much as he owned me.

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering.

I typed back:

Cancel. Something came up.

I didn't want drinks. I didn't want the leash.

I wanted out.

I sat at the vanity and pulled a heavy piece of cream stationery from the drawer. My hand didn't shake as I wrote down the name. A lawyer I had met once at a gala. A woman with shark eyes who specialized in "difficult" divorces.

I would give him everything.

The house. The cars. The jewelry.

I didn't care about the money anymore. I just wanted my name back.

I flipped open my laptop and booked a one-way ticket to Zurich for tomorrow morning.

Non-extradition.

I snapped the laptop shut and looked around the room.

It was a museum of apologies.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper" diamond earrings.

"I'm sorry I didn't come home for three days" designer bags.

I gathered them all.

Photos. Letters. The dried rose from our first anniversary, now brittle as bone.

I threw them into the fireplace.

I struck a match and watched the flame catch the curled edge of a photograph. In the picture, Aiden was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.

The fire curled his handsome face into ash.

Good.

The front door slammed downstairs.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a conditioned response of pure terror.

The bedroom door flew open.

Aiden stood there.

He was wearing a black suit, the crisp white shirt underneath splattered with specks of crimson.

Fresh blood.

His eyes were wild, scanning the room for threats until they landed on me.

"You didn't answer your phone," he growled.

He crossed the room in two predatory strides.

"I was busy," I said, forcing myself not to look up from the dying fire.

He stopped.

He wasn't used to that tone. He was used to "I'm sorry, Aiden" or "I didn't hear it, Aiden."

He frowned, the adrenaline-fueled anger shifting to confusion, then suspicion. "What are you burning?"

"Trash," I said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, black velvet box.

"I brought you something."

He snapped it open.

A diamond tennis bracelet glittered in the firelight. Cold. Expensive.

I knew exactly what it was.

"Give me your wrist," he ordered.

I held out my arm.

He clasped it on. It felt heavy, like a shackle.

"It has a new GPS chip," he said casually, his thumb stroking the pulse point of my wrist. "Better range. So I always know you're safe."

Safe.

Caged.

"Do you love me, Aiden?" I asked.

The question hung in the smoke-filled air.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes void of warmth.

"I own you, Lottie," he said. "That's more than love. Love is weak. Ownership is forever."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. His lips were corpse-cold.

"I need to shower. I smell like a rat."

He walked into the bathroom.

The water turned on, a hiss of steam masking the silence.

His burner phone was sitting on the dresser.

He never left it unlocked. But he was rattled today. Sloppy.

I picked it up.

No passcode.

I opened the messages.

Haven: He's asking for you.

Aiden: Be there soon. Keep him calm.

Haven: We miss you. Come home.

Aiden: I'm trying. She's being needy.

Needy.

I put the phone down just as the water shut off.

Aiden walked out of the bathroom a minute later, a towel low around his waist.

His phone buzzed on the dresser.

He picked it up, read the screen, and his face changed. The mask of the cold Capo dropped, replaced by something frantic.

"I have to go," he said, pulling on fresh clothes.

"Union emergency?" I asked, the lie tasting like bile in my throat.

"Yeah," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Trouble at the docks. Don't wait up."

He grabbed his keys.

"Aiden," I said.

He paused at the door, hand on the frame.

"Leo is sick, isn't he?"

He froze.

He turned slowly. "What did you say?"

"I heard you on the phone earlier," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "With your brother."

The tension left his shoulders. "Yeah. The kid has a fever. Haven is freaking out. I need to go handle it."

He opened the door.

I could hear the phone in his hand connect before he was even down the hall.

"Daddy's coming, Leo. Hold on."

And then I heard it.

Through the silence of the hallway.

A child crying.

"I want my daddy!"

Aiden didn't look back at me.

He ran.

He ran to them.

I stood there, the diamond shackle dragging down my wrist.

He wasn't just cheating.

He was a father.

And I was just the ghost haunting his house.

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