After Divorcing Me, He Went Broke!

"AH–!"

Sarah lay on the bed, her breathing uneven as she sought release during her ovulation days.

She was a wife, yet in moments when her desire reached its peak like this, the only thing that could bring her to orgasm was a vibrator.

After six years of marriage, she lived in a relationship without touch, without warmth, and without sex.

Every breath felt heavy, and every small movement made her body tense before falling into suffocating silence as she reached her climax.

Tears slipped down her cheeks without her realizing it, mixing with the cold sweat that hadn't yet dried.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

How ironic. So this was what it felt like to be the wife of a billionaire who had everything except love.

Slowly, Sarah pushed the vibrator aside and reached for her phone.

Her nightly routine was always the same: opening her second Instagram account just to check one profile-@Iam.mia.

A new story had just been posted. Mia was holding a bouquet of roses arranged with folded money, smiling softly at the camera with a caption that read, "Thank you, my love."

Sarah bit her lip, staring at the screen for a long time.

Then her thumb moved to open the girl's latest post on her feed. It turned out that today was Mia's twenty-third birthday.

There were three photo slides. One of her with a cake and candles, one with her friends, and the last one that crushed Sarah's chest from the inside.

Mia was holding the arm of a tall man in a white suit embroidered with gold on the cuffs.

Sarah recognized that shirt immediately. She had designed it herself. She had ordered the embroidery with her own hands.

And that man was Ronan Vexler-her husband.

Her gaze froze on the phone screen, her chest tightening as if a heavy stone pressed against her ribs.

She had known about the girl for a year, ever since that night when she saw her husband's phone wallpaper-a young woman with long hair and a beautiful smile.

With a trembling voice, she had asked, "Who is she, Ronan?"

Without hesitation, Ronan had replied softly but firmly, "She's my lover."

His words had hit her like a cold slap. The world had stopped spinning.

Since that night, Sarah hadn't been able to sleep without seeing the woman's face in her mind. She began digging into who Mia was, a young influencer with a million followers, living a glamorous life in the spotlight.

Sarah looked at her reflection on the black screen of her phone-tired eyes, messy hair, and a smile that had vanished long ago.

She turned off the screen, placed the phone beside her pillow, and took a deep breath. Even her eyes had grown tired of crying.

Her name was Sarah Langford, the seventh granddaughter of the Langford noble family, an old bloodline known for its tradition that every daughter must marry a prince from another royal house and serve until death. It was a rule passed down through generations.

Since she was young, Sarah had known she didn't want that life. She had watched her sisters smile in public while their hearts shattered in private.

She had seen how they dressed, spoke, and even breathed according to the rules of the royal families they had married into.

They looked like queens trapped in golden cages-beautiful, but never free.

Sarah didn't want that kind of life. She wanted to break the cycle, even if it meant trading her noble blood for something else.

So when a marriage proposal came from the powerful Vexler family, she accepted. They weren't royalty, but they had something more real than any crown like money and influence.

The Vexlers eagerly welcomed the idea. They were pleased to have a noble daughter-in-law who could elevate their social standing among the elite.

Ronan Vexler, their only son, became her husband.

They didn't marry for love, but for purpose. Sarah wanted freedom from royal traditions, and Ronan wanted noble blood in his lineage.

For a while, their marriage had looked perfect.

Ronan was everything a woman could dream of, warm, polite, attentive. He gave her a mansion, vacations wherever she wished, and smiles that made her believe he truly loved her.

And so, she fell in love with him. Even now, she still did.

Sarah had thought that maybe this was the freedom she had longed for, a love that could bloom from an arranged marriage.

But everything changed after their daughter was born five years ago.

That day, Ronan looked at the baby in her arms with empty eyes. There was no joy. Only silence, coldness, and a distance that grew between them from that moment on.

He stopped touching her.

Stopped looking at her with warmth.

Stopped speaking to her except for things that truly mattered.

When she tried to ask what went wrong, that night turned into the worst argument of their marriage.

And in the middle of his anger, Ronan said the words that shattered everything.

"I never loved you, Sarah. I married you because I wanted noble blood in my family."

"I only needed children from your womb."

She had cried that night as she listened to his footsteps fading away and the door closing behind him.

From that night on, Sarah stopped hoping. All that remained was a marriage on paper, and memories rotting slowly alongside a love that had never been real.

A soft knock echoed from the bedroom door three times. It was the familiar signal of Hanosa, her oldest and most loyal maid.

Sarah took a deep breath before speaking. "Come in."

The door opened gently, and Hanosa stepped inside, bowing politely.

"Madam, Sir Ronan has returned," she said carefully.

Sarah remained lying in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chest.

He was home, after two weeks of absence.

Strangely, the news didn't make her heart race like it once did. There was only numbness and a faint bitterness.

"Is he alone?" she asked flatly, without looking at her maid.

"Yes, Madam," Hanosa replied quickly. "And Sir Ronan said he wants to speak with you. He asked when he may come into your room."

Sarah looked up at the ceiling.

"Ten more minutes," she said quietly. "Tell him he can come in after ten minutes."

Hanosa bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind her. When her footsteps faded, Sarah stayed still on the bed.

It was an unspoken rule between her and Ronan-something never discussed, yet always followed.

Whenever he returned home, he never came straight into her room without permission. He always had Hanosa ask when he could enter, and she always answered in minutes.

It was almost ironic, because he didn't need to do that. The room was his too. He could have walked in whenever he wanted. But maybe that was how they kept the only thing left of their marriage-distance.

Sarah rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom to freshen up.

Usually, whenever Ronan wanted to see her, she would put in a lot of effort to look perfect for him.

She would wear her most beautiful dress, apply a soft, expensive perfume, style her hair, and put on a little makeup.

Once, she had even tried to dress like Mia-copying her hair, her clothes, even the way she smiled in her photos. She had done it all in the foolish hope that Ronan would notice her again.

She was hope that night would turn into something beautiful, and he would become the man he once was-warm, gentle, and attentive.

But she was wrong. No matter how hard she tried, he never truly looked at her.

So tonight, she didn't try at all.

After showering, Sarah wore a simple cream-colored satin pajama and wrapped her hair in a towel.

As she dried it with a hair dryer, she glanced at the clock and saw that ten minutes had passed.

Right on cue, the door opened quietly without another knock. Ronan entered as if he had every right to.

Sarah sat at her vanity, facing the mirror.

From the reflection, she saw him sitting at the end of the bed, posture straight, dressed in a white suit she had already seen on Mia's Instagram account.

A few seconds of silence passed before his voice broke it.

"Tomorrow is Shenina's birthday, right?" he asked flatly.

Sarah replied softly, "Yes."

He nodded once, as if confirming something he already knew. Even though he had failed as a husband, Sarah couldn't deny that Ronan was a good father. He never missed a single important moment in their daughter's life.

He was always there for their daughter's birthday, remembered every detail-her favorite toys, her favorite color, even her kindergarten activities.

And in front of Shenina, he always made sure they looked fine together.

Perhaps that was why Sarah had not filed for divorce yet. Beneath all the pain, Shenina was her first reason to stay, and the second one was because she has nothing yet in assets.

Ronan looked at her through the mirror, expressionless and calm.

"Shenina is already five," he said suddenly. "It's the right time to give her a sibling."

Sarah froze for a moment while applying her night cream, then looked at him through the mirror.

"Should we?" she asked flatly.

He nodded once. "Yes. You haven't given me a son yet. We will program a baby boy."

She held her breath for a moment, then let out a bitter, almost silent laugh. She looked at her reflection, smoothing the remaining cream on the tip of her nose.

"How could Shenina have a sibling," she said calmly, "if her father never touches her mother?"

"I will touch you starting tomorrow," Ronan said without emotion. "Only to make you pregnant."

The words hit harder than any scream could. Sarah wanted to ask if that was all she was to him-a machine for bearing children. But her tongue refused to move. She was too tired to fight again and again.

Ronan stood and walked toward the door.

"Prepare yourself starting tomorrow," he said, not looking back. "I will come to this room, and the doctor will start our program."

His hand was already on the doorknob when Sarah spoke.

"Why not let your girlfriend give you a son?" she asked coldly.

He stopped. Silence stretched for a few seconds before he slowly turned to her, his eyes sharp and filled with warning.

"Remember who you are, Sarah," he said firmly.

"You have not fulfilled our family agreement to give me a son."

Sarah said nothing.

Another reason his family had accepted her was because they wanted a male heir. A son born from her womb-a woman of noble blood meant higher status, greater honor, and more power among the elite. And she was nothing more than a tool to make that happen.

Before closing the door, Ronan looked at her again, his tone almost mocking.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said. "Stop using your second account to check on Mia. Stop watching what I do."

Sarah couldn't speak.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind racing.

But then a realization struck her.

How did Ronan know she had been watching his girlfriend?

The next day was their daughter Shenina's fifth birthday.

That morning, the Vexler residence was filled with noise and excitement. Servants moved back and forth, carrying decorations, cakes, and gift boxes for the children invited to the party.

Sarah stood in the middle of the grand hall that had been transformed into a garden-like venue.

As a graduate of a prestigious design academy in Europe, Sarah had personally arranged all the decorations for the day-from the balloon arches and the Barbie Dreamland backdrop to the three-tier pastel cake she had carefully designed for weeks.

She made it all with love for her daughter.

The Barbie theme was chosen because Shenina used to love it so much.

When everything was ready, soft music began to play. Guests started to arrive, they were members of the Vexler family, cousins, and several of Ronan's business associates.

Family photographers captured every corner of the room, while Sarah waited near the grand staircase with a genuine smile.

Moments later, footsteps echoed from the upper floor. Ronan appeared, descending the stairs with little Shenina in his arms.

Shenina wore a delicate pink tulle dress, her hair neatly combed and adorned with a tiny tiara.

All eyes turned to them. But when Shenina's gaze met the decorations in the hall, her expression shifted.

The small smile on her face slowly disappeared. Her eyes wandered over the pink balloons, the satin drapes, and the large Barbie cake that stood proudly in the center.

Suddenly, her face wrinkled. She squirmed in her father's arms.

"Daddy..." her voice was soft, trembling. "I don't like it..."

Everyone went silent.

Sarah quickly stepped forward with a gentle smile, trying to soothe her.

"Honey, sweetheart... this is the theme you picked, remember? Mommy made it just like you asked."

But Shenina shook her head hard. "I want red! I don't like pink anymore!"

Sarah stared at her, confused. "But last week when Mommy asked, you said you wanted this. You even chose the sample yourself when Mommy showed it to you..."

Shenina burst into tears. The little girl buried her face in Ronan's shoulder, hugging him tightly.

Ronan said nothing, only patted her back softly, while the guests began whispering among themselves.

From the guest table, Miranda, Sarah's sister-in-law, spoke loudly with a mocking smile.

"How can a mother not know her own child's favorite color?" she said sharply. "Truly pathetic."

Some guests stifled their laughter. Sarah lowered her head, her lips trembling.

She turned toward Shenina, her eyes filling with tears. "Sweetheart, Mommy's sorry... Mommy didn't know you like red now. Mommy can change it, okay? We can switch the balloons-"

But before she could step closer, a cold voice stopped her.

"That's enough, Sarah." It was Ronan's voice.

He held Shenina tighter, his expression flat. "You already made her cry on her own birthday."

Sarah shook her head slowly. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted-"

Her mother-in-law, Madam Vexler, interrupted sharply.

"You shouldn't ruin my granddaughter's happy day," she said. "If you were a good mother, you would know how to keep your child in a good mood."

Those words struck harder than anything else. Sarah lowered her head even more, gripping the hem of her dress tightly.

She tried to approach, her eyes full of tears. "Ronan, please let me hold her for a moment. I just want to apologize to her."

But Ronan stepped back, putting distance between them.

"There's no need," he said coldly. "You really are a bad mother."

Sarah fought to hold back her tears. Her throat felt dry, and her chest tightened with unbearable shame.

All eyes were on her-the mother who failed to make her daughter happy on her birthday.

She wanted to step forward, to fix things, but every move felt wrong. The laughter of the other guests sounded like knives cutting into her heart.

Then, someone appeared at the entrance of the back garden.

A woman in an elegant red dress walked in, her charming smile instantly drawing everyone's attention.

Mia.

Miranda immediately stood and greeted her with a warm hug.

"Oh, Mia, dear! You finally come!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

That tone, so full of affection, was one Sarah had never once heard directed at her.

Sarah could only stand still, watching helplessly.

Mia walked toward Ronan and Shenina. She smiled softly and bent down to match the little girl's height.

"Happy birthday, Shenina. Auntie brought a surprise for you," she said cheerfully.

Shenina, still pouting in her father's arms, looked up at her with wide eyes.

"What surprise, Auntie Mia?" she asked innocently.

Mia chuckled. "A special guest...Mickey Mouse in red! He'll be here any minute!"

In an instant, Shenina's face lit up. She clapped her hands excitedly, her laughter filling the air that had been silent moments before.

"Really?! I want to see Mickey Mouse!" she squealed.

Ronan smiled faintly, then set her down. The little girl immediately grabbed Mia's hand without hesitation, while her other hand was still held by Ronan. The three of them walked together toward the cake table in the center of the garden.

And there, in front of all the guests, Shenina blew out her candles with Ronan and Mia by her side.

The cake that Sarah had designed with all her heart.

Her eyes began to glisten. She stood at the edge of the crowd, forcing herself to smile and clap like everyone else. But inside, the pain built up until she could barely breathe.

The moment that should have been warm and precious with her daughter had turned into a painful scene where someone else stood in her place as a mother.

In a whisper so soft it barely left her lips, Sarah murmured to herself, "It should have been me there with my daughter... not her."