Divorce! My Billonaire Ex-husband Never Valued Me

Monique POV

The car sped down the road, and I sat in the passenger seat, my body feeling both heavy and uneasy. My fever hadn’t fully subsided, and each turn of the road seemed to make my head spin. All I wanted was to go home and rest, but Mark… he wouldn’t have it. He hadn’t even been the one to take me to the hospital; he’d just shown up, looking more irritated than concerned.

When he did finally arrive in my hospital room, I thought maybe he’d come to check on me, maybe to apologize or comfort me, but all he’d said was, “Get up. We have to go. My family is waiting for us.”

Reluctantly, I’d followed him, not wanting to start another fight. The car’s steady hum did nothing to ease my discomfort. I shifted in my seat, trying to shake the chills creeping over me, but it was useless. Just as I closed my eyes, hoping for a bit of peace, his phone chimed loudly. He glanced at it, and without a word, abruptly pulled over to the side of the road.

I looked over at him, a little startled. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

He turned to me with a blank expression before motioning toward my door. “Get out of the car.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“I need to head somewhere now, Monique,” he replied flatly. “You’ll go to my parents’ house on your own and have dinner with them.”

I stared at him, feeling my chest tighten. “You want me to go there alone… in my condition?”

He rolled his eyes. “What condition? Come on, I’m sure it’s not serious.”

“Really?” I could barely keep the tremor out of my voice. How could he be so indifferent?

“Yeah,” he said, unbothered. “I need to go with Quiana for her monthly checkup. You know how she gets.”

The mention of Quiana sent a familiar pang through me. I wasn’t even surprised at this point, just… defeated. “So it’s Quiana. Again.”

“Look,” he snapped, clearly irritated, “stop looking at me like that and just get out. I don’t want to keep Quiana waiting.”

“Mark, I’m not feeling well,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “I agreed to go for this dinner with you even though I’m sick, and you said you’d take me home afterward. But here you are, ready to leave me on the side of the road because of Quiana?”

He huffed, “Yes, because she needs me. I can’t let her go to her appointment alone. She’ll get anxious. You know what happened to her after the accident…”

“It’s been twelve months, Mark. She’s not facing any more issues; she just wants you there because she can. It’s like she’s the one married to you, and I’m just… an inconvenience.”

“Say whatever you want, Monique. I don’t care,” he shot back, already starting the car again. “Just get out. And when you see my parents, make up a decent excuse as to why I couldn’t make it.”

Without another word, I opened the car door, feeling a hollow emptiness spread through me. He didn’t even wait until I was out safely; the moment I stepped onto the curb, he sped off, tires screeching as if he had somewhere far more important to be. The tail lights of his car faded into the distance, leaving me standing alone in the cold, my legs feeling weaker by the second.

The chill bit into me, and I hugged myself, shivering as a sharp wind picked up. My fever only made the cold feel more brutal, and I could barely keep my balance. I looked up and down the street, hoping for some way to escape the biting air. Finally, a taxi’s headlights appeared down the road, and I waved frantically, relief flooding over me when it stopped.

Once inside, I slumped into the seat, shivering uncontrollably. The driver glanced back, concern etched into his face. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

I forced a weak smile, nodding. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

He nodded, flicking the heater on, and I felt a faint warmth spread through the air. But even as the heater kicked in, the coldness from Mark’s abandonment seemed to settle deeper in my bones, chilling me far more than any winter night could.

The Smith family manor loomed in front of me, a testament to their wealth and prominence in New York City. With its towering facade and classic architecture, it was clear that the Smiths were no ordinary family. Mark was no less impressive, running the family business as a billionaire. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and walked up to the grand entrance.

I knocked, and within moments, the door swung open to reveal a woman with striking, colored eyes. Mark's mother, Nora, blinked at me, her gaze shooting up in surprise. “Monique, you…” she trailed off.

I forced a small smile. "Hello, Mrs.Nora."

I stepped inside but stumbled, dizzy from the fever that hadn’t let up. Nora caught me, her eyes wide with concern. "Goodness, are you okay?"

I straightened up, nodding weakly. She glanced past me, her eyes narrowing. “Where’s Mark? Didn’t he come with you?”

“He’s… not coming,” I replied quietly, trying to avoid her probing gaze.

Nora’s face softened, and she seemed to size me up. “You look sick, dear.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve got a fever, but your son insisted I come over.” My voice was a whisper as I fought back the resentment I felt.

She dismissed my words lightly, her tone warm and understanding. “I’m sure he just didn’t want to face his grandfather’s temper alone. But let’s not mention anything to him about this, okay?”

I nodded, managing a small smile as she patted my shoulder and led me to the dining room.

As we entered, I greeted Mark’s father and grandfather, both of whom sat at the head of the table, radiating authority. I took a seat, feeling their eyes on me.

Nora quickly spoke up, her voice bright. “Doesn’t Monique look lovely? I have to say, Mark takes such good care of her.”

But her husband frowned, his gaze lingering on me. “She doesn’t look well to me.”

Grandfather’s voice, though softer, had the same concerned weight. “Are you all right, Monique?”

I glanced at Nora, who silently pleaded with her eyes. “I’m fine, really,” I lied. “Just a slight headache.”

Grandfather’s brow furrowed. “If that’s the case, where is your husband? Mark should be here looking after you, like a responsible husband would.”

“Father-in-law, he…” Nora started, but one stern look from him silenced her.

I looked down, feeling the weight of his disapproval. There was no way I could tell them the truth. If he knew why Mark wasn’t here, he’d be even angrier, and the consequences for Mark would be harsh. Grandfather was a man of strict principles; family responsibility was sacred to him.

“Talk to me, Monique,” he pressed, his tone soft yet firm.

I took a breath and lied, “He had a meeting with an international client who’s leaving the country tonight. Mark was hesitant to let me come alone, but I insisted.”

“What a thoughtful wife you are, my dear,” Nora cooed dramatically, chuckling to ease the tension. I forced a weak smile, hoping my story would pass.

Grandfather looked at me intently, seeming to assess the truth in my words before he finally nodded.

Relief washed over me, though guilt tugged at my chest. I had lied to protect Mark, despite everything he’d done. He’d left me this morning when I was barely able to stand, sick and exhausted. Still, I couldn’t let him face his family’s wrath.

Dinner passed in a blur. I barely tasted the food, my mind consumed with thoughts of Mark and Quiana, the woman who seemed to haunt our marriage. In recent months, she had spiraled back into our lives, claiming a part of Mark that once belonged to me. He felt indebted to her, thinking she’d saved him from the fire—a fire I knew I’d been the one to save him from. But Quiana bore the scars, and she allowed him to believe her version. The lie had changed everything.

Finally, dinner ended, and Mark’s father arranged for one of their drivers to take me home. As I stepped through the front door of our house, a quiet hope blossomed within me. I wanted to see Mark, maybe hear him apologize or at least ask about my fever. But the house was empty.

Determined, I went to the kitchen, hoping to make him dinner. He must not have eaten, I told myself. Hours passed, and by the time the clock struck eleven, I was in the living room, anxiously watching the minutes tick by. Where was he?

I picked up my phone and dialed him again. This was the umpteenth time, and worry gnawed at me as the call finally connected. A breath of relief escaped me.

“Mark, what’s going on? Where are you?”

But the voice on the other end wasn’t his. “Hello, Monique, it’s me.”

My stomach dropped as I recognized Quiana’s voice, sickly sweet and confident.

“Quiana?” I forced myself to sound calm. “Where’s Mark?”

“Oh, he’s with me,” she replied, a smug edge to her tone. “He’ll be staying the night here, at my place, because I asked him to.”

“What?”

“Yes,” she said coolly. “So, enjoy the night.” And with that, she hung up, leaving me stunned, clutching the phone as if it might shatter in my hands.

My heart ached, the weight of betrayal sinking deeper with each passing second. Mark had chosen her over me, again. Three years ago, he had picked me, and now, I was slipping further into the shadows of our marriage.