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I learned about the affair the same morning I collapsed from internal bleeding. My doctor suspected stress had contributed, but the real cause was a car accident I got into driving home after seeing Daniel’s messages to Mia—messages that were explicit, arrogant, and worst of all, mocking me. He had even stolen from the studio’s business account to fund their little weekends away.
When I opened my eyes in the hospital, Daniel didn’t ask if I was okay. He sat beside me, tossed a stack of papers onto my lap, and said,
“Let’s not drag this out, Emma. Sign the divorce papers. You have nothing, and I’m done pretending.”
He didn’t know that two days earlier, my attorney had contacted me with news so surreal I’d needed to sit down: my estranged aunt, the only family connection I had left, had passed away—and left me $47 million. Daniel thought I was broke, but the truth was that I had become one of the wealthiest women in California overnight.
He also didn’t know the biggest secret I had kept for years.
I didn’t sign the papers.
Instead, I waited. I let him think I was weak, defeated, powerless. And when we walked into the courtroom two months later—him confident and smirking, me calm with my lawyer by my side—I finally revealed the truth Daniel never bothered to le
I was not just a housewife.