My Husband Wanted a Fake Divorce; I Made It Real

Novelix Completed
16+、追妻火葬场、剧情反转、追悔莫及、怀孕、被欺骗/出轨、背叛、黑手党/黑帮、情妇、果断的、受害者、前夫、大女主、豪门、女性力量/大女主、第一人称视角、剧情/戏剧、现代/都市

Ava Reed spent three years proving she loved Damon Croce, not his fortune. When the billionaire demands a fake divorce to reassure his pregnant mistress, Ava accepts the payout and signs for real. Damon expects tears, apologies, and a quick return to his side. Instead, Ava marries Luca Black, a younger man with gentle eyes and dangerous secrets. As gossip turns vicious and Damon's empire begins to fracture, Luca's true identity emerges from Ravenport's criminal shadows. Ava thought she was escaping heartbreak. Instead, she finds protection, power, and a love ruthless enough to choose her every single time again.

Chapters (3)

Chapter 1

Every time Don Damon Croce gave me the silent treatment, he'd wire a sum into my account—what he called "emotional compensation." "Ava, you need coddling. I need peace and quiet. Take the money. Go keep yourself a nice young boy toy if you want." The last time, he transferred a massive amount. "Ava, Sofia's depression is flaring up again. She says if she doesn't get a commitment—some kind of guarantee—she'll kill herself. We file for divorce first. Once she's stable, we remarry." "In the meantime, spend the money however you like." One of his friends sitting nearby grinned at him. "Boss, Ava's the woman you gave up the Croce family trust to marry. You're really just going to divorce her like that?" "Exactly. Ava's way too proud. What if she actually takes your money and spends it on another man?" Damon flipped through a dockyard ledger without so much as glancing up. "She won't." "You all know she grew up on scholarships and charity. Nothing she hates more than owing anyone. She'd sooner starve than touch a cent of my money." Someone let out a low whistle. "That's cold, Boss. You wire the money, she refuses to use it, and that's her pride talking—can't blame you for any of it." Everyone assumed I'd do what I always did: send every penny back. But this time, I hit accept. The living room went silent for one full second. Damon turned his head to look at me. The smirk on his face froze. "Ava!" I didn't look back. I walked straight for the foyer. His lieutenant blocked the doorway, expression awkward. "Ava, you're joking, right?" "Do I look like I'm joking?" Damon slowly sat up on the sofa, grinding out a cigarette butt under his shoe. Every man in the room—associates, friends—had gone quiet. Their eyes bounced between me and him. He looked at me with a mocking smile. "Got someone else lined up?" I glanced back at him. "Why—curious?" His gaze traveled down my bodycon dress and four-inch heels, and his expression darkened by degrees. Then he let out a scoff and spoke toward the phone on the table. "Sofia, you called it. A bet's a bet." Sofia's soft, honeyed voice came through the speaker. "Ava, I'm sorry." "Damon insisted on making this bet with me. He said you'd never take the money. But I said—who turns down ten million?" Damon swept a glance at me. "I lost. What do you want?" "Come to me. Right now." "On my way." The call ended. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. I swallowed the ache in my chest and followed him out. In the hallway, their stares clung to my skin like cobwebs I couldn't shake off no matter how hard I tried. "I give it three days before she's crying and wiring the money back. Like she could ever bring herself to leave Boss." "That's what happens when you crawl up from the bottom—all bluster, no substance. She's nothing compared to Sofia. Now there's a woman who knows how to take care of a man." "You think Boss would actually go through with the divorce?" That last line nailed me to the floor. A chill crept up my spine. Every time Damon froze me out and wired me money, I'd send it back. Every last cent. I thought I was preserving my dignity. I thought someday he'd understand me. Cherish me. But here was reality. I waited, and waited, and waited. I gave ground again and again. And all I got in return was his back, growing smaller in the distance. I was done living like this. I'd barely taken a step when Damon doubled back. His fists were clenched, knuckles white. He let out a cold laugh. "So you want to pick a man? Let me help." I pushed down the pain in my chest and forced a careless smile. "How thoughtful." The indifference in my voice hit the room like a bucket of ice water. Dead silence. He shoved me into the car. The AC was blasting inside. Just like Damon himself—cold without a trace of warmth. The black armored SUV tore through the streets and finally stopped outside a neon-drenched nightclub. It was a Croce family establishment. Guards in black suits flanked the entrance, the low murmur in their earpieces swallowed by the music. A line of young men filed out and stood in a row before me. Damon's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. "Have fun. If you need more, just ask." Then he cut through the crowd and stopped at a booth. Sofia sat there, cheeks flushed, cradling a half-empty glass of amber liquor. Damon crouched down and murmured to her. "Why'd you drink so much?" Sofia tilted her head up at him, eyes glistening. "Got bored waiting for you." He brushed his thumb across the corner of her eye, then cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. The hooting around them swelled, wave after wave. But Damon's eyes drifted over her shoulder and locked onto me, watching for my reaction. The bass pounded through my ribcage until it went numb. I lowered my head and took a sip of my drink. Cold tears slid down my cheeks. The tears I'd been holding back for so long finally broke through. Sofia leaned into his ear and whispered something. Damon froze for a beat, and then his eyes exploded with joy. He swept Sofia off her feet, spinning her in front of everyone. "I'm going to be a father!"

Chapter 2

My chest felt crushed, like someone had a fist around my heart and was dragging it down. I looked past the fawning faces and let my gaze settle on a quiet young man in the corner. "I only want him." He walked over. His young face still carried a trace of rawness. "What's your name?" I asked. "Why are you here?" "Luca Black. Saving up for my sister's tuition." "How old?" "Twenty-three." I felt a pang of something distant. When I was twenty, I was the scholarship kid who counted every dollar for a three-dollar plate of vegetables in the campus cafeteria. Then Damon appeared and offered to sponsor my education. Later, he moved me into his safe house—said it would be more convenient for tutoring if I lived close by. After that, proximity turned into something more. On our wedding day, I returned every cent he'd ever given me, principal and interest. I wanted him to know: I loved him, not his money. And from that day on, all of Ravenport knew how much Ava Reed loved Damon Croce. A few drinks in, my throat burned. I pulled out my phone and transferred a hundred thousand to Luca. "Don't come back here." The words barely left my mouth before several pairs of eyes landed on us. "That kid actually looks a bit like Boss did back in college." "See? Ava's still hopelessly in love with Damon." Damon tugged lazily at the corner of his mouth. His friend swirled a glass and sauntered over, wiggling his eyebrows at me. "Ava, Boss already booked you a room. Penthouse suite, killer view." He raised his voice deliberately, as if making sure no one missed it. "I bet she won't go." "She's not the type. All for show. Give it a minute—she'll wire the money back and come crawling to Boss in tears." After the loud jeering, every eye in the room was pinned on me. Damon tapped the room key against the tabletop, one slow beat after another. He looked up at me, a confident smile on his lips. I walked over and plucked the card from between his fingers. "Thanks." The metal edge dragged across his fingertip. His smile froze for just a beat. The penthouse VIP suite. Dim lights. Damon sat in the adjoining room, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the old scar below his collarbone. Junior year. A lab instrument malfunctioned. He threw himself over me to shield me and caught the blast—seven stitches. I cried all night. He just laughed and told me it didn't hurt. I raised my eyes to that face that had once captivated me completely. Tears welled up, but I clenched my jaw and refused to let them fall. Damon lifted his hand instinctively, reaching to wipe them away. In that instant, something like guilt flickered through his eyes. "Sofia's pregnant," he said. "I owe her an explanation." "Be good about this. Once the baby's born, everything will go back to the way it was." Everything will go back to the way it was. What an easy thing to say. But I wasn't willing anymore. I took a step back, dodging his touch. Damon stared at me for two seconds. Then the door slammed shut in front of me. And I shut mine. From the other side came small, muffled sounds before long—the dull groan of mattress springs. Sofia's cry of "it hurts" was crushed into half a trembling note. Damon's voice came through laced with heavy breathing. "Relax." One thrust. Then another. Like he was making sure I heard every one. In the group chat, his friends were placing bets on how long I'd last. "I bet Ava's staring at her phone and crying right now. She'll come storming out any minute." "She's way too jealous—even if it's just for pride, she'll hold out half an hour, tops." It wasn't like I'd never made a scene before. The first time I found another woman's perfume on him, I burned his clothes. He said he'd brushed against someone by accident. The second time, I had his car towed straight into the lake. After that, he stopped explaining. He just started throwing money at the problem. Damon sent a voice message to the group. "I bet she can last the whole night. If I lose, the house is yours—the one we got married in." The chat blew up instantly. Everyone gushing about how generous Boss was. An eight-figure property, given away just like that. I stared at the screen, fingertips ice cold. That house. I'd overseen every inch of the renovation myself. From demolition to painting, from picking tiles to choosing light fixtures—I'd touched every single plank of wood. And now he tossed it away like it was nothing. As if our years of marriage weighed less than air. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. Another message from Damon popped up, his voice carrying the lazy satisfaction of a man who'd just finished. "You don't want someone else getting the house, do you?" "Do it for me. Just make it through tonight." "After tonight, I'll transfer the house to your name. Double the alimony." Clear terms. Clean math. He kept his dignity; I got the house. Sounded like a win-win. But the most pathetic part was this—between us, transactions were all that was left to discuss. The bathroom door opened. Luca stepped out toweling his hair, water droplets tracing a path down his abs before disappearing beneath the edge of the towel.

Chapter 3

The next morning, I pulled the door open to find a crowd standing outside. "Ava, I knew it—you still love Boss most. Couldn't give up that house, could you?" "Told you. She talks tough but she's soft inside. We saw right through her." The door to the next room opened too. Damon walked out, knotting his tie. "Keep it down. Sofia's still sleeping." The snickering died instantly. He pulled out a stack of cash and held it toward Luca. Luca didn't take it. "Ms. Reed has already paid." Damon's hand hung frozen in midair. The casual mask on his face shattered in an instant. "Ava Reed!" My name came out of his mouth one syllable at a time, bitten off like a threat. "You didn't actually—" He didn't finish the sentence. But his bloodshot eyes bore into me, as if trying to confirm something. Sofia shuffled out rubbing her eyes, the collar of her nightgown slipping off one shoulder, revealing a trail of red marks. She spotted me and blinked, then quickly curved her eyes into a smile. "Oh, Ava, you're here too?" "Damon was so worried about me last night. I said I was thirsty and he ran out to buy water—kept at it until really late." "I told him he didn't have to, but he insisted. You don't mind, do you?" She leaned into Damon as she spoke. He wrapped an arm around her waist by reflex, but his gaze stayed on my face. He was waiting. Waiting for me to blow up. To lose my mind over him. But I didn't. I just barely turned up the corner of my mouth. "Not at all. Carry on." I slipped sideways between them without looking back, calling to Luca over my shoulder: "Give them the bag." Everyone looked confused, staring at the takeout bag in Luca's hand. It was stuffed to the brim—every brand of condom you could think of. The air solidified for one long beat. Damon's ice-cold voice slammed into me from behind. "Ava! Don't you dare walk away!" I didn't turn around. So this was what it felt like to fight silence with silence. Even Damon Croce could lose his cool. Then what had I been enduring for the past three years? I pressed the elevator's down button. For the first time in memory, Damon actually chased after me. "Ava, you've gotten bold. Tell me—what exactly happened last night?" I lifted my face to look at him and smiled. "If I said nothing happened, would you believe me?" Damon visibly relaxed. "The divorce papers can be signed today. Everything I promised, you'll get." "What Sofia said just now—don't take it to heart. She's young. She speaks without thinking." I nodded, took the divorce agreement from his hands, and signed my name. Damon watched me sign so quickly. A complicated expression crossed his face. "You don't have to take this so seriously. This agreement is just for Sofia—to put her mind at ease." "In a year, we'll remarry anyway." I smiled and didn't tell him that I had no intention of remarrying. Ever. Done was done. We spoke almost at the same time. "Thirty days. See you at the courthouse."

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