Dear Billionaire, I'm Not Your Wife Anymore! - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Mia rolled over, and when she saw the pink little princess dress, her eyes immediately lit up.
"I want to wear it." She nodded, her voice carrying the excitement unique to children.
I smiled as I helped her change into the dress and carried her downstairs. Today she looked like a real little princess, so beautiful I couldn't bear to look away.
In the living room, Braden was already sitting on the sofa waiting. He had developed a habit over the past two years—personally taking Mia to school every day before going to the office.
"Daddy, am I pretty?" Mia ran to him as soon as her feet touched the ground, spinning in a circle, her dress hem fluttering gently.
He looked at her with gentle, doting eyes and said without hesitation: "Yes, very pretty."
He reached out to hug her while I took the school bag from Mary and followed them out the door.
The school wasn't far, just outside the villa district—one of New York's most expensive private kindergartens. After we arrived, I got out to walk her to the entrance, crouching down to help her put on her backpack.
"Mommy will come pick you up early this afternoon, okay? We'll make a cake together."
She nodded happily and ran into the campus, enthusiastically greeting the principal and teachers along the way before disappearing through the doors with excitement.
I stood there watching her small figure gradually fade into the distance, my heart warmed by a gentle, tender light. Then I turned to look at Braden in the car.
Light and shadow fell across his face; he still had that composed, handsome appearance. But his eyes always seemed like the coldest winter night—deep and icy, making one shiver involuntarily.
"I'll walk home. You go to the office," I said softly as I approached the driver's side.
He didn't say much, just pressed his lips together, turned the steering wheel, and drove away in the black Rolls-Royce.
I stood by the roadside, watching him disappear into traffic. We had been married for six years, yet I still couldn't understand him.
I knew he married me out of gratitude, not love. But I foolishly waited for him for six whole years—waiting for him to fall in love with me.
Looking back now, I couldn't blame anyone else; I could only blame myself for misjudging him.
I walked home quietly. As soon as I stepped through the door, Mary approached: "Ma'am, what would you like for breakfast?"
"Boil me two eggs and half a corn cob."
Mary was obviously startled, then nodded and headed to the kitchen. I knew she sensed something different—my tone, my expression, probably everything was different from usual.
There had been no quarrel last night, no accusations, no crying. Even though he hadn't come home for weeks, even though Mia's hospitalization for lung lavage was so serious and he hadn't shown up—I didn't make a fuss, didn't say a word.
I no longer expected him to become the husband I wanted.
Sitting in the third-floor study, I thought quietly for a long time. Next month, I would stand on the stage of America's top medical forum to give a speech as the most outstanding graduate. Already, hundreds of pharmaceutical giants had sent me invitations. With just my nod, I could enter major laboratories, secure billion-dollar investments, and reach the pinnacle of the medical world.
But I had never mentioned these glorious achievements in this house. No one knew that the canary they thought only knew how to babysit, make soup, and wait for her husband was actually a doctor who could stand firm on the world stage.
And what about Braden Kingsley? At eighteen, he became a gold-medal advisor on Wall Street; at twenty-three, he took over the family company; within four years, he became number one on the domestic wealth rankings. He was a cold-blooded legend in investment banking, a business emperor in the media's eyes.
The two of us—one a glamorous investment banking overlord, the other an "invisible" housewife—seemed completely mismatched. But in reality, we had never been in the same world.
Just as I was thinking, my phone buzzed with a message from Clara.
"Charlotte, I was having lunch with a client today. Guess who I saw?"
She immediately sent three photos.
In the pictures, Braden sat in a private dining room, drinking with several foreign clients. Linda sat beside him in a black form-fitting dress that outlined her stunning curves, looking enchanting.
In the third photo, she was smiling and talking to someone, her eyes curved with laughter, while Braden looked down at her with such gentle eyes he seemed like a different person—they looked like a perfect couple.
Clara left a message reminding me: "Charlotte, try to stay positive. Don't let this get to you."
I replied with two words: "I won't."
I really wouldn't let this break my heart anymore.
To Braden, I was completely inadequate. But Linda—international pianist, fashion industry darling, jewelry spokesperson—every one of these was something he could be proud of.
At 3:30 PM, I left early to pick up Mia. I wanted to be the first to see her, to let her know that Mommy would keep her promises.
Nearly at four o'clock, a red Ferrari stopped across from me. My hands unconsciously tightened on the steering wheel—it was Linda.
She sat in her car touching up her makeup, her movements elegant and composed. Obviously, she had come early to wait for Braden so they could pick up the child together.
Linda's ability to capture Braden's heart relied not just on her looks, but on her extremely high emotional intelligence and cunning. For two years, I had never confronted her directly; I had even restrained myself from arguing—I thought this way, Braden would gradually return to the family.
But I was wrong. They would only grow closer.
This time, I didn't want to be a coward anymore.
I pushed open the car door and got out, standing in front of her car, my gaze coldly sweeping over her.
Today, whatever she had prepared, I wasn't going to back down.