I saved a billionaire only to be ruined after

“Divorce my son,” my mother-in-law said coldly.

She pulled an envelope from her designer purse and, without hesitation, hurled it straight at my face. The sting of the impact burned my cheek as the envelope fell onto the table with a dull thud. Bills spilled out, crisp and sterile, scattering like fallen leaves across the polished wood.

Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “Take it. Leave him. I don’t want you to be with him. Especially now that Faye is back.”

Faye. My husband’s first love.

“Fine,” I said, my voice steady. “Transfer ten million dollars into my account within five days, and I’ll walk away.”

For the first time, Sasha blinked. Shock cracked through her expression. Then her lips curled into a sneer. “So, you’re finally showing your true colors, huh? A gold digger after all.”

Her voice dripped with triumph. “Fine. After this, don’t you ever show your face to me—or to my son—again.”

She stood, smoothed her dress, and left without looking back.

The moment she was gone, my entire body began to shake. My knees knocked against each other under the table. By the time I staggered out of the restaurant and slid into the backseat of my car, my strength nearly gave out.

I leaned against the seat, staring blankly out the window.

If this had been years ago, I would have fought. I would have clawed, begged, screamed that Keith and I were real, that we were built on something purer than money, greatest than his first love. But now?

Now, I was done.

My lips trembled as memories unspooled like an old film reel in my mind.

Six years ago, I had been no one. A poor girl on a nameless island, scraping by, living day to day. That was when Keith’s yacht crashed against the jagged reef. He had lost his memory. He didn’t know his name, his past, his wealth. And I, with nothing to my name, took him in. I cared for him with the little I had. Shared my food when I could barely eat myself. And somewhere between washing his wounds and listening to his laughter by the shoreline, we fell in love.

He promised me then he’d buy me the world.

And he meant it. For years on that island, Keith worked tirelessly with me by his side. He built small trades, fixed boats, carried lumber—anything to earn. Every coin he saved, every effort he made, was for us. He wanted to give me everything I had once been denied, to make me happy even in the simplest ways.

I believed him.

And for a time, it was true.

Three years ago, his memories came rushing back. I saw the shift in his eyes when he realized who he was—the heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire. I thought that would change everything. I thought he’d leave me behind. But he didn’t. He brought me with him.

He took me to his world. He introduced me to his parents, defended me against their cutting words, even married me despite their opposition.

For a while, I was happy. It was real. It was love.

Until six months ago.

Until Faye came back.

The woman everyone thought was destined for him. The woman who had walked away once, only to return and reclaim her place as if I were just a placeholder.

And maybe I was.

Because Keith changed. Slowly at first—missed dinners, unanswered calls, distracted stares—but then completely.

The last blow? Today. Our third wedding anniversary. He didn’t come home. Didn’t even text. Instead, his mother showed up, shoving photos across the table—Keith and Faye laughing together, dining together, her hand brushing his arm.

It was as if someone had split me open, and all the love I had poured into him spilled uselessly onto the floor.

My chest tightened as the car rolled forward. Through the tinted window, my gaze snagged on a massive LED screen mounted above the bustling square.

There he was. Keith. Standing beside her.

The video was playing on loop—an interview, fans chanting their names together.

“Keith and Faye! Keith and Faye!”

The crowd cheered, cameras flashing. Reporters called them “perfect together.” Some even asked when they would marry.

My breath hitched.

Once, I never cared that Keith and I had kept our marriage a secret. He told me it was for my protection, that his world was too harsh, too cruel for someone like me. And I believed him.

But now, staring at that screen, I realized the truth.

He was ashamed of me. Too embarrassed to claim me.

Tears stung my eyes, but they didn’t fall. Not yet.

Then I saw it.

Around Faye’s neck gleamed a necklace. A delicate chain with a pendant I knew too well—because it was exactly like mine. The very same design Keith had once given me when we first came back to his world, telling me it was special, that it was ours.

But seeing it now, glittering beneath the camera lights, I realized it had never truly been mine. It was hers all along.

And worse—every gesture, every smile, every way Faye leaned into him on that screen—I recognized them. Because I had once acted that way with Keith because of him.

All this time, Keith must have been molding me to be like her.

My lips parted, a bitter laugh breaking free from my chest.

I was nothing to him now.

By the time the car pulled to a stop in front of the lawyer’s office, I had already wiped the last tear from my cheek. My hands no longer trembled.

I walked inside, chin high, voice steady.

“Draft me a divorce,” I told the lawyer.