Dear Billionaire, I'm Not Your Wife Anymore! - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I held back tears, gently patting my daughter's back, trying to comfort her and help her fall back asleep.
On the seventh day, I carried Mia home from the hospital. Physically and emotionally exhausted, I finally couldn't hold on anymore. I asked Mary to stay with her while I went upstairs to sleep for just an hour.
When I woke up and came downstairs, Mary stood somewhat helplessly in the living room. Seeing me, she said urgently: "Ma'am, you're awake. Mr. Kingsley came home earlier and took Mia out for dinner."
My throat tightened. I couldn't speak, just silently turned around and returned to my room without saying anything.
From downstairs came Mary's sigh: "With a husband right there, why does the lady have to live so hard?"
I picked up my phone and called Braden.
When the call connected, a woman's voice answered with laughter: "Braden took Mia to the restroom. Do you need something?"
I froze, my breath catching. I bit my lip, said nothing, and hung up.
I closed my eyes, feeling a sharp pain in my heart. Years ago, I had defied my father's strong opposition and abandoned my studies just to marry this man. Now, I had lost completely.
I still clearly remembered my father asking me privately on my wedding day if I would regret it later.
Back then, I answered him with a face full of happiness: "Dad, don't worry. I won't regret it."
So I gave up everything and stepped into marriage without hesitation.
Until two years ago, when I discovered Mia hiding in Braden's room, secretly talking on the phone with Linda Carter. Their tone was like that of a real mother and daughter.
That day, on the way to the hospital with Mia, I finally understood.
I regretted this marriage. It really should end.
Marrying someone who doesn't love you—no matter how hard you try to maintain it, it's ultimately riddled with holes.
I want to live the rest of my life for myself.
My phone buzzed with an email notification.
I got up, went to the study on the third floor, opened my computer, and clicked on the email.
The sender was the experimental department of a top global medical school.
I closed my eyes and whispered: "Dad, you were right. Thank you for leaving me a way out."
My father's words before he died echoed in my mind again—
"My daughter, you're not allowed to become useless. You must become my pride. Even if you get married, you cannot give up learning."
Six years. I had persevered. In days unknown to anyone, I had completed the path of learning my father had set for me.
At eight o'clock in the evening, Braden came home with Mia.
I watched her bounce through the door with two little pigtails, holding a pink bunny plushie.
I went forward, wanting to hug her.
But Mia suddenly pushed with her little hands, pouting and glaring at me: "Hmph, I don't want Mommy to hug me."
My outstretched hand froze in mid-air.
A tall figure crouched down and called gently: "Mia."
She pouted and threw herself into his arms grievously, her small body trembling, her eyes red-rimmed.
My heart filled with bitterness.
A five-year-old child, gradually brainwashed by Linda over three years. I couldn't blame her for this result—I had failed in my duties.
I said hoarsely to Mary: "Give Mia a bath later."
"Yes, ma'am." Mary nodded.
I turned and went upstairs. Soon, Mia's cheerful laughter and Braden's low, doting voice filled the living room.
The media often called Braden a "daughter-obsessed maniac." I had to admit that was true. In this world, what he loved most was indeed his daughter.
I leaned against the doorframe, my thoughts drifting back to eight years ago.
That year, Braden was in a coma from a car accident for a whole year. He lay in my father's hospital while I took a year off from school, staying by his side constantly to care for him.
After he woke up, we completed our engagement. The next year, Mia was born. I thought marriage would become happier because of this.
But after our daughter turned two, he began traveling abroad frequently, and Mia inexplicably began to reject me.
It took me two whole years to realize—
Another woman had quietly taken on the role of "mommy" in my daughter's world.
Linda Carter, internationally renowned pianist, a talented woman in the arts world, and also Braden's first love.
Now, she was the "Aunt Linda" my daughter spoke of, and the object of her adoration.
Braden never said he regretted marrying me, but his actions had made everything clear.
I went downstairs for some water. As I passed the hallway, I heard him on the phone.
"Mm, I know. I'll remind her to brush her teeth."
"Remember to apply medicine to your finger and follow the doctor's orders. Don't be stubborn."
The corner of my mouth twitched. He was talking to Linda.
Linda reminding Mia to brush her teeth probably meant she'd had sweets tonight. This was her usual method of making Mia happy, and Braden never interfered.
"Sleep early, don't stay up late. Hanging up." He ended the call, turned around, saw me, and paused slightly.
"Tonight you sleep with Mia first. I have a video conference tonight, might be quite late." After speaking, he glanced at the calendar and frowned slightly. "Today is the 8th."
"After the meeting ends, I'll come to your room."
He said it casually, as if it were just routine business.
The 8th was one of our designated "intimacy days."
Looking back now, this marriage had long been reduced to mere scheduling and obligations.