My Wife Cheated With A Millionaire — Until I Inherited 47 Billion Dollars
Part 1
I stood in the doorway of our bedroom.
My hands gripped the cheap bouquet of daisies I bought from the corner store.
Today was our fifth anniversary.
Megan was my whole world.
The scent of unfamiliar expensive cologne hit me before I even turned the corner.
I dropped my heavy mechanic toolbag on the worn hallway runner.
That zipper clanked against the floorboards.
Laughter echoed from the room at the end of the hall.
It was Megan’s laugh, but having a strange and breathless pitch to it.
A deep male voice joined in.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I pushed the half-open door wide.
The bouquet of daisies slipped from my numb fingers.
They scattered across the carpet.
Megan was tangled in our sheets with a man I did not recognize.
He had slicked-back hair and a smug grin.
I could barely process the sight in front of me.
Working two jobs every single day was the only way to provide for us.
My hands were stained with motor oil just to keep a roof over her head.
I gave her every penny I made to open her dream flower shop.
“What the hell is going on here?”
My voice cracked.
Megan did not even look ashamed.
She pulled the sheet up and rolled her eyes.
“Greg, you’re home early.”
The man beside her let out a cruel laugh.
“So, this is the pathetic mechanic husband you told me about.”
He looked me up and down with sheer disgust.
“Not much to look at.”
I lunged forward.
“Get out of my house!”
I pointed at the door.
“Get off the bed I bought!”
Megan crossed her arms sharply.
“Shut up, Greg!”
She scoffed at my dirty clothes.
“You bought it?”
Her voice was laced with pure venom.
“My name is on the deed.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Paying the down payment for this house was my sacrifice.”
My hands shook with rage.
“I paid the mortgage for five years!”
Megan laughed coldly.
“Where is the proof?”
She tilted her head.
“The statements are all in my name.”
That man wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“By the way, your pathetic mechanic wages didn’t fund her flower shop.”
He smirked.
“I did.”
He was Craig, the wealthy real estate developer from downtown.
“The money in your joint account?”
Megan smiled wickedly.
“I transferred it all yesterday.”
My knees felt weak.
“You stole everything from me.”
Craig pointed toward the door.
“Sign the divorce papers.”
He grabbed a stack of documents from the nightstand and tossed them at my feet.
“Don’t make me call security to throw you out.”
I refused to sign.
They did not care.
Craig’s private bodyguards suddenly appeared in the hallway.
They dragged me out of my own home.
His men threw me onto the cold wet pavement outside.
Rain poured down in sheets.
Craig tossed a crumpled hundred-dollar bill at my face.
“Take it for a cab.”
He stared from the porch.
“Don’t make my men drive you.”
Dusting his hands off was his final insult.
“You will dirty my leather seats.”
The heavy oak door slammed shut in my face.
I sat in the freezing rain.
That water soaked through my thin jacket.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I pulled it out with trembling hands.
It was the hospital.
“Mr.
Caldwell?”
The doctor’s voice was grim.
“It is about your mother.”
My breath hitched.
“Her cancer has metastasized.”
The world spun around me.
“We need to perform targeted surgery immediately.”
He paused.
“But you lack the fifty thousand dollar upfront fee.”
I begged him for more time.
“If it is not paid by tomorrow morning, we will stop her medication.”
The line went dead.
I wandered into a deserted junkyard near the industrial district.
Collapsing against a rusted out car frame was my only option.
Why do good guys always finish last?
I had nothing left to my name.
Footsteps echoed on the wet gravel behind me.
I turned my head.
A tall man in a tailored black suit stood under a massive black umbrella.
“Who are you?”
I wiped the rain from my eyes.
“There is nothing to rob here.”
The man bowed deeply.
“Young master.”
His voice was respectful and calm.
“You have suffered enough.”
I stared at him in utter confusion.
“You have the wrong person.”
I shook my head.
“My life is just fixing cars as a broke mechanic.”
The man stepped closer.
“Your full name is Gregory Caldwell.”
He pulled out a thick leather folder.
“Your biological father was Arthur Caldwell, founder of the Apex Prestige Group.”
My jaw dropped.
“To protect you, he hid your identity for twenty years.”
That man handed me the folder.
“Last night, the master passed away.”
He lowered his umbrella slightly.
“You are his sole heir.”
I looked at the documents inside.
“You just inherited forty-seven billion dollars.”
