The day I found out I was having quadruplets, I was still worrying about how I’d support four kids in the future. Then my husband Lucas sent me a message: “I’ll give you a hundred million dollars. Divorce me.” My hands were shaking with excitement as I trembled typing my reply: “OMG! Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner!” I signed the papers, got the money, and vanished in a flash. Later, the whole city was buzzing about how that ruthless Mr. Ashford had lost his mind, searching everywhere for his ex-wife who’d taken a hundred million and disappeared. The ultrasound probe slid coldly across my lower abdomen as I stared intensely at the screen, my heart pounding with nervousness. The doctor adjusted her glasses, her expression shifting from calm to surprised, then to disbelief. She confirmed it several times before turning to me, her voice carrying a hint of uncertain trembling. “Mrs. Ashford, you… this is…” “Doctor, is there a problem?” My heart leapt to my throat, and my palms instantly broke out in cold sweat. “No, not a problem.” The doctor took a deep breath, as if announcing some major discovery. “From what I can see, you’re having quadruplets. Four gestational sacs, all with heartbeats.” My mind went completely blank. Quad… quadruplets? Was I dreaming? I pinched my thigh hard, and the sharp pain told me this was all real. I felt pretty impressed with myself—I’d gotten pregnant with four at once! But walking out of the hospital, clutching that ultrasound printout, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. The sun was shining on my face, but I couldn’t feel any warmth. All I felt was complete confusion about the road ahead. I’m Emma, and I’d married into the wealthy Ashford family a year ago. My husband Lucas was the richest man in this city. Our marriage was a complete business arrangement—no love, just mutual benefit. In our year of marriage, I could count on one hand how many times we’d actually seen each other. He was always on business trips, always in meetings, always… not home. In the Ashford household, I was invisible—just a “thing” his mother looked down on. They didn’t even treat me like a person. Now I had four babies in my belly. How was I supposed to raise them? Would the Ashfords even let me have these children? Countless questions swirled in my head, giving me a splitting headache. I was walking down the street in a daze when my phone dinged. It was a message from Lucas. My heart jumped as I swiped open the screen. A few short words, like a cold knife, stabbed straight into my heart. “I’ll give you a hundred million dollars. Divorce me.” I stood frozen, reading it over and over, making sure I wasn’t seeing things. A hundred million dollars. Divorce. The air went dead silent for a few seconds. Then an indescribable joy erupted like a volcano, instantly flooding through my entire body. My hands were shaking so much I had to tap the screen several times before hitting the right spot. Trembling, I typed out my reply, one word at a time. “OMG! Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner!” The reply came almost instantly. Classic Lucas style—short and to the point. “Tomorrow at ten AM, my lawyer will bring the agreement to you.” I stared at my phone screen, grinning like crazy. A hundred million dollars! Forget raising four kids—I could raise forty! I carefully folded that ultrasound printout and tucked it safely into my purse, my steps so light I practically floated. The four little babies in my belly seemed to sense my happiness and gave a little flutter. “Easy there, babies.” I gently rubbed my stomach. “I’m about to take you to live in a big mansion and have the good life!” As for Lucas… Screw Lucas! Screw the wealthy elite! From now on, Emma was a rich woman! Walking back into that place called “home”—the Ashford mansion that never felt warm—for the first time, the air actually seemed fresh to me. Humming a tune, I started packing my things. I didn’t have much—one suitcase held everything. As for all those designer bags and jewelry Lucas had given me, I didn’t touch a single piece. I’d already gotten a hundred million from him—why would I care about these little things?
The next morning, 9:59 AM. The doorbell rang right on time. I opened the door to find Lucas’s lead attorney, Mr. Harrison, standing there with a serious expression. “Mrs. Ashford.” He pushed up his glasses and handed over a document folder. “These are the divorce papers Mr. Ashford asked me to bring you. Please look them over. If there are no issues, you can sign.” “No problem, absolutely no problem.” I grabbed the papers eagerly and flipped straight to the last page without even reading them. Mr. Harrison clearly wasn’t expecting me to be so decisive. He paused, then reminded me, “Ma’am, don’t you want to review the terms? Especially the section about asset division?” “No need.” I picked up a pen and signed my name. “I trust Mr. Ashford’s integrity, and I trust your professionalism.” Mr. Harrison’s expression turned strange, like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. I finished signing and handed the papers back to him. “Mr. Harrison, when will the money hit my account?” That was the important part. “…Mr. Ashford said it will arrive within an hour of your signature.” “Great.” I nodded with satisfaction. “Now hurry along—I’ve got a flight to catch.” Behind his glasses, a flash of complete shock crossed his face. He probably expected me to cry, to make a scene, to cling desperately, to scream and demand to know why. Too bad he was wrong. All I wanted was to get my money and start my rich new life. I closed the door, grabbed my suitcase, and left that cage that had trapped me for a year without a single backward glance. Lucas. The Ashfords. I hoped we’d never meet again. An hour later, my phone got a text alert from the bank. Looking at that long string of zeros, I squinted happily. Never before had I understood so clearly that money truly was a wonderful thing. It could soothe any wound and bring unparalleled security. I didn’t go straight to the airport. Instead, I went to the most expensive residential development in the city. “Hello, miss. Do you have an appointment?” The sales agent eyed my suitcase with a barely concealed look of judgment. “No.” I shook my head and said directly, “I want to buy your best penthouse unit. Full payment.” The sales agent’s professional smile froze on her face. I didn’t waste words—just pulled out my phone and showed her my bank balance. The next second, her attitude did a complete one-eighty. Half an hour later, I swiped my card and bought an eighty-million-dollar penthouse suite. Move-in ready. Standing before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the bustling city below, I let out a long breath. Freedom felt so good. I touched my still-flat belly and said softly, “Babies, do you like our new home?” After getting settled in, the first thing I did was call my mom. The phone barely rang once before she picked up. “Emma! You finally remembered to call me? How’s life treating you at the Ashfords’?” Hearing my mom’s caring voice, my eyes instantly welled up. “Mom…” My voice came out choked. “What’s wrong? Who’s bullying you? I’m coming over right now!” “No one, Mom.” I quickly said, “I just missed you.” I took a deep breath, steadied my emotions, then dropped the bombshell. “Mom, I got divorced.” Silence on the other end. A full thirty seconds of silence. I could picture my mom’s shocked expression. “Di… divorced?” Her voice went up an octave. “That bastard… how dare he divorce you? Is there another woman? My daughter isn’t something he can just throw away!” “Mom, I’m the one who wanted it.” I told a small lie, not wanting her to worry too much. “I just felt we weren’t right for each other.” “Well, good then,” my mom immediately changed her tune, her voice full of heartache and anger. “I always told you—that family has no warmth, and that Lucas is like a block of ice. Marrying into that family, of course you’d suffer!” “Where are you now? Come home right away! I’ll send your dad to pick you up!” “Mom, I’m fine. I bought a new place at Central Park Tower.” “Central Park Tower? Those apartments aren’t cheap. Where’d you get that kind of money?” my mom asked suspiciously. “Settlement from Lucas.” “At least he has some conscience.” My mom snorted, then added, “No, I’m still worried about you being alone. I’m coming over tomorrow!” “Okay.” I agreed with a smile. After hanging up, my heart felt warm. This was what it felt like to have family backing you up. No matter what decision I made, they would always be my strongest support. Meanwhile, at that moment, the temperature at the Ashford mansion had dropped to freezing. Mr. Harrison placed the signed divorce papers on Lucas’s desk, his expression complicated. “Mr. Ashford, Mrs. Ashford—no, Ms. Emma—has signed.”
At that time, Lucas was overseas in an important international conference, and his phone was being held by his assistant. That assistant was someone Victoria had planted. Victoria was Lucas’s childhood friend, self-proclaimed as the person who understood him best, and universally acknowledged in high society circles as the “future Mrs. Ashford.” A year ago, when Lucas suddenly announced he was marrying me—a nobody—it shocked everyone. Victoria saw me as a thorn in her side. She believed I had stolen everything that should have been hers. Over the past year, she’d made my life difficult both openly and behind the scenes. Everyone in the Ashford family had been charmed by her and often criticized me at her instigation. This time, while Lucas was abroad, she took his phone and sent me that divorce message on her own initiative. She was certain Lucas was already tired of me, his “trophy wife.” She was equally certain that I would cry and refuse to agree to the divorce just to keep my position as Mrs. Ashford. Then she’d say a few nice words to Lucas, making herself look gracious while making him despise me even more. A perfect plan. Too bad she miscalculated one thing. I, Emma, couldn’t care less about being Mrs. Ashford. The servants at the Ashford mansion nervously reported to Lucas’s mother: “Emma, she… she’s gone.” “Gone?” Mrs. Ashford was in the middle of a face mask. She sat up slowly at the news. “Gone is gone. She wasn’t good enough for my son anyway. Did she take all her things?” The servant said quietly, “She only took one suitcase—the one she brought with her. All the jewelry you and Mr. Ashford gave her, and the card he gave her… she left everything behind.” Mrs. Ashford’s movements stopped abruptly. She ripped off her face mask. “What did you say?” Mrs. Ashford rushed into my room—what she called “the guest room.” In the walk-in closet, all those pieces of jewelry she and Mr. Ashford had given me to keep up the family’s image—pieces I’d never worn once—were neatly arranged in velvet boxes. On the vanity, Lucas’s unlimited black card sat quietly, with a note beside it. “The PIN is your birthday. I never used it.” Mrs. Ashford picked up the card, her face cycling between pale and flushed. She had always assumed I married into the Ashford family for money. She’d guarded against me, watched my every move, terrified I might take even a penny more than I deserved. But now, not only had I left with nothing, I hadn’t even taken the things they’d “graciously bestowed” upon me. They never expected this. “What’s she trying to pull? Who is she putting on a show for?” Mrs. Ashford threw the card on the ground in fury. Lucas’s sister Charlotte ran in, gloating. “Mom, who cares what she’s up to! It’s better that she’s gone, isn’t it? Now Lucas can finally be with Victoria! Victoria just called—she said she’s coming over to have dinner with you tonight!” At the mention of Victoria, Mrs. Ashford’s expression softened. “Victoria is always so thoughtful.” She smoothed her hair and resumed her superior attitude. “Go tell the kitchen to make some of Victoria’s favorite dishes tonight.” Victoria arrived in high spirits. She wore a tailored Chanel suit and sat elegantly beside Mrs. Ashford, listening to her badmouth me, a victorious smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Let’s not speak ill of Emma anymore,” she said with false concern. “She did keep Lucas company for a year. Leaving like this, she must be heartbroken.” “What’s there to be heartbroken about?” Charlotte rolled her eyes dismissively. “My brother gave her a hundred million dollars! She’s probably out shopping right now!” Victoria’s hand paused slightly as she lifted her teacup. A hundred million dollars? The message she’d sent didn’t mention anything about money. Did Lucas add that later? Impossible. Lucas’s phone had been with her people the whole time. Could it have been… Mr. Harrison acting on his own? A flicker of unease passed through Victoria’s mind, but she quickly suppressed it. Whatever happened, Emma was gone. That was enough. “A hundred million to be rid of her—she should count herself lucky,” Mrs. Ashford sneered. “I thought she’d demand more.” Listening to them, Victoria’s unease grew stronger. This was too easy. Emma’s reaction was completely unexpected. A woman everyone believed was a gold digger, faced with divorce, had been so calm, even… carefree? This didn’t make sense. Meanwhile, I was in my new penthouse, enjoying a dinner prepared by a top-tier private chef. After eating my fill, I soaked in a luxurious milk bath. Lying in the enormous bathtub, I rubbed my belly and sighed contentedly.
Three days later. Lucas finished his overseas trip and flew back on his private jet. The moment the plane landed, his assistant returned his phone. “Mr. Ashford, while you were away, Ms. Blake called several times. I returned her calls on your behalf.” Lucas nodded, a hint of exhaustion between his brows. Out of habit, he opened SnapChat to check for any important messages. Then he saw our chat history. The last two messages were especially jarring. “I’ll give you a hundred million dollars. Divorce me.” “OMG! Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner!” Lucas’s pupils contracted sharply. His slender fingers gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He realized almost immediately—he hadn’t sent that message. He had never once thought about divorcing me. Even though our beginning wasn’t ideal. But over this past year, this woman named Emma had quietly taken root in his cold, rigid world, like a silent plant. He’d grown used to coming home to that lamp left on for him in the living room. Used to her soft voice calling him “honey.” Used to the meals she cooked. He thought they had plenty of time to slowly transition from a business marriage to becoming a real family. But now she had told him, in the most jubilant tone, that leaving him was “great news.” A panic he’d never felt before seized his heart, making it hard to breathe. “Go… go home!” he rasped to his driver. The car raced through the streets, running several red lights, finally stopping in front of the Ashford mansion half an hour later. Lucas practically leaped out of the car. He burst into the mansion. The living room was empty—that familiar lamp wasn’t on. “Emma?” He called out. No one answered. He rushed upstairs and pushed open the master bedroom door. The room was neat and tidy, but cold and lifeless. He opened the walk-in closet. Her side was completely empty.
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