Ditch the Billionaire, Own My Better Life!

"Boss, the woman's awake!" a man's voice suddenly shouted.

Hazel opened her eyes and found herself standing at the edge of a cliff. Two men ere gripping her arms, keeping her from moving. Below her roared the sea--wild, foaming waves crashing against the rocks. If these men let go, she would fall, and there'd be nothing left of her but broken bones and saltwater.

She gasped for air, fighting the panic rising in her chest. Her face was swollen, blood trickling down from her temple, streaking across her cheek. She didn't even know why these thugs had kidnapped her.

She couldn't remember offending anyone. All she'd done was stop for coffee before work. Then, as she turned the corner, a group of huge men grabbed her. She hadn't even managed to scream before everything went black.

Did her husband know she'd been taken? She had no way of finding out.

She tried to speak. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?" Her throat burned with pain, her voice cracking.

"Dead people don't need to know that much," said the scar-faced man they'd called "Boss."

The men holding her loosened their grip slightly, just enough for her body to sway dangerously near the cliff. Hazel screamed. "Wait! I have money! If that's what you want--whoever sent you, I'll pay ten times more!"

The scarred man glanced at his companions, and they tugged her back an inch from the edge. "And what makes you think I need your money?"

Hazel forced herself to stay calm, her mind spinning fast. "If you really wanted to kill me," she said, voice trembling but steady, "you wouldn't have waited for me to wake up. But you did."

For a second, surprise flickered across his face. Hazel exhaled quietly. She pressed on. "So what do you want from me?"

The scarred man's lips curled into a grin. He stepped closer, placing a rough hand against her cheek. "You're pretty. And smart," he said, his breath hot against her skin. Hazel's stomach twisted--she felt like throwing up. She clenched her lips shut.

"The person who paid us told us not to kill you," he said finally. "She just wants to confirm something."

She. Hazel caught the pronoun immediately. Not he. She. Her mind sharpened.

There was only one woman in the world who hated her that much--her husband's stalker, Olivia Howard. A complete lunatic.

"Is it Olivia Howard?" Hazel asked.

His eyebrows lifted again. Hazel took a silent, shaky breath of relief. She was right. If it was Olivia, she might still make it out alive. Olivia probably just wanted to humiliate her--make her see that her husband, Rayan, didn't love her. If Hazel agreed to divorce him, she'd be fine.

Technically, Hazel understood Olivia's obsession. After all, her husband was every woman's fantasy--tall, sinfully handsome, like something carved from marble in an Italian museum. And those blue eyes...when he looked at you, you couldn't help but surrender.

But Olivia wasn't that lucky. She didn't have the face of Rayan Knight's lover. Even though she was the sister of Evelyn--Rayan's dead lover--she didn't look like her.

And that made her jealous.

Still, Hazel hadn't thought Olivia would go this far.

Wasn't she afraid of being arrested? The woman was out of her mind.

Hazel didn't wait for Scarface to speak again. "So what does Olivia want me to do?"

"Call your husband," he said. "If he's willing to pay the ransom, you walk free. If he's not...you go over the edge." He smirked. "Sweetheart, don't hate me. It's your husband who gets to decide."

"I heard you," Hazel muttered, stepping back slightly, revolted by his endearment.

"Good. I'm curious to see what kind of man would abandon a woman as beautiful and clever as you."

He shoved a phone into her hand. "Hurry up. I'm not a patient guy." Hazel took a deep breath and dialed the number she knew by heart. Her hands shook. No one outside knew what her marriage was truly like. Rayan had never treated her like a wife. In public, he played the perfect husband--smiling for cameras, taking her to expensive restaurants, buying diamonds, handbags, and designer gowns.

But Hazel knew--those were the things Evelyn had loved, not her.

At home, she was nothing more than the gum stuck under his shoe--disgusting, unwanted.

Still, she hadn't fought back. She was the Knight family's adopted daughter. She had no say in her life. When Rayan chose her, she could only nod. And yes--she loved

him. Loving Rayan was written into every woman's DNA.

But now she knew what truly mattered--her life. Nothing, no one, was worth dying for. Especially not him. She had promises to keep, people to meet again.

The call connected. But it wasn't Rayan's voice--it was a woman's.

"Hazel? I'm not surprised you'd call. How are you?" Olivia's voice was sweet and sickly, like poison coated in sugar.

Hazel swallowed, forcing herself not to break. Olivia's plan was airtight. She was with Rayan. Right now.

What were they doing together?

"Olivia, cut the crap. Put Rayan on the phone. You'll get what you want--I mean the divorce," Hazel said sharply.

Olivia laughed, soft and cruel. "Of course. But right now, he's standing at my sister's grave, paying his respects. He's saying he can't live without her. Oh, Rayan, how pathetic. Always the substitute."

"Yes," Hazel said with a brittle smile. "But compared to you, I'm still better off. At least I share a bed with him. You can only jerk off to his picture in secret--"

"Enough!" Olivia screamed. "Soon you'll be thrown out of the Knight family, and I'll be the only woman at Rayan's side!"

Scarface shot Hazel a look, silently urging her to get on with it. Hazel steadied her breathing. "Then tell me, Olivia," she said coldly, "why not just convince him to divorce me yourself? If he loves you that much."

"Don't play innocent, you bitch!" Olivia shrieked. "He married you because you look like my sister! You were a replacement, a pathetic crutch to stop him from breaking down!"

"Then why kidnap me? You could've told me directly--I'd have agreed to the divorce," Hazel snapped.

"Oh, I know you would," Olivia hissed. "I know he doesn't care about you. But you still shamelessly agreed to be his wife. You need to pay for that. I want you to suffer. And I want you to hear from his own mouth how little you matter to him!"

Hazel clenched her fists. She heard footsteps--Rayan's. She knew that stride anywhere.

"Who is it, Olivia?" His deep voice rumbled through the phone.

Olivia covered the receiver, whispering, "It's Hazel. She insists on talking to you. I told her what day it was, but she didn't care. She says she's your wife."

Hazel held her breath.

Rayan frowned, took the phone, and his voice came cold and precise. "Hello."

Hazel inhaled shakily. "Rayan, I'm in danger. I need your--"

He cut her off. "Hazel Foster, I thought I made your position in my life very clear from the start. Know your place. Don't test my patience with your pointless dramatics." The line went dead.

The cold, repetitive beep sliced through her like a knife. Hazel's heart shattered. He despised her even more than she'd imagined.

The scarred man smirked. "Looks like your so-called husband doesn't want you anymore. But don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure you don't miss him tonight."

He lunged at her.

Hazel reacted instantly--she bit the man beside her, hard. He howled, and she shoved him back with all her strength, then leapt--straight off the cliff.

Because Hazel believed one thing: she wouldn't die that easily.

When Hazel woke again, it was already the next morning.

She slowly opened her eyes. A faint beeping sound from a nearby machine filled the silence, and the sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant told her she was in a hospital.

She tried to sit up, but pain exploded through her body--sharp, tearing pain, as if every bone had been shattered and stitched back together wrong. She let out a low groan and sank weakly against the pillow. Just then, a nurse came in.

"Mrs. Knight, you're awake?" The nurse's voice softened, relief flickering across her face.

"Why...why am I in a hospital?" Hazel's throat felt like sandpaper.

While carefully removing the needle from Hazel's hand, the nurse nodded. "The beach rescue team found you last night. They said you were floating about two hundred meters offshore. You were lucky--they got to you just in time." She hesitated, sighed, then added, "We identified you through your blood type and ID.

Mr. Knight--your husband--has already covered all the expenses. He told us to make sure you received the best care."

The nurse left.

Hazel stared blankly for a moment, her fingers curling tight around the blanket. So Rayan did know she'd been hurt. But he hadn't come. Not even once. Just a phone call, some money, and that was it. Did he even know what kind of terror she'd lived through?

Her phone suddenly buzzed on the bedside table. Hazel reached for it, unlocked the screen--and froze.

Olivia had posted a new photo on Instagram.

In the picture, Rayan was carrying her upstairs in his arms--like a scene from some romantic movie. You couldn't see his face, only his back, but Hazel knew that silhouette anywhere. After three years of marriage, she could recognize him by the way his shoulders moved. That was her husband. The man she'd once believed was hers.

The caption read:

"Twisted my ankle, and someone insisted on carrying me."

Below, the comments flooded in:

"So sweet!"

"Couple goals!"

"Perfect together!"

Hazel's hands trembled. Tears stung her eyes. While she'd been fighting for her life, her husband had been playing lover to another woman.

She wiped her tears away quickly. He wasn't worth it. Not a single drop.

Without hesitation, she called her friend. She didn't explain much--just asked her to prepare divorce papers. Her friend sounded shocked, but Hazel told her she'd explain everything tomorrow and hung up the phone.

****

At evening, Hazel was lying on the hospital bed when the door of the ward opened.

Rayan's assistant, Simon, walked in carrying a fruit basket. "Madam, how are you feeling."

He set it on the table, his tone polite, professional. "The doctor says your injuries are serious. You'll need a few days of rest before you're discharged."

Hazel turned her gaze away from him, her voice weak but steady. "Where's Rayan?"

Simon's smile faltered for a second, then he recovered. "The president knows you're awake." A brief pause. "But he said your decision to swim in a restricted area was highly irresponsible. He...said he doesn't have the patience for your games anymore."

The air in the room froze. Hazel's chest tightened; the pain flared up again.

Simon quickly added, "Please don't take it to heart, madam. The president has been very busy, but he still cares about your condition. He asked me to check that you were safe."

Hazel nodded lightly, her tone almost detached. "I understand. Thank you."

Simon hesitated, wanting to say more--but her expression stopped him. Then Hazel spoke again, her voice calm and faint. She handed him a sealed envelope.

"Give this to Rayan."

Simon blinked. "What is it?"

"He'll know when he opens it." Hazel closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

Simon looked uneasy, but he nodded and quietly left the room.

***

RK Empire Headquarters -- President's Office

Rayan glared at the divorce papers on his desk, his knuckles white. A second later, he slammed them onto the floor.

"How dare she?" His voice was low and dangerous, vibrating like thunder trapped in his chest.

He had just spent a fortune cleaning up that so-called "accident." The police report had stated: 'Mrs. Knight illegally entered a restricted area, violating safety regulations.' The prosecutor's office had even considered filing charges.

He'd paid, negotiated, and canceled a billion-dollar overseas contract to bury the scandal--

And now she'd sent him divorce papers?

His chest tightened, fury and humiliation burning together.

He reached for his phone--then saw it. Her number had been blocked.

Something inside him snapped.

"Fine, Hazel," he muttered, voice like a growl. He kicked his chair over and hurled the phone against the wall, shattering it.

The papers still lay on the floor--crisp, white, official. All it would take was his signature, and three years of marriage would be over.

Rayan Knight.

A man powerful enough to silence entire boards, to make corporate giants kneel--was now standing here, slapped in the face by his own wife. The woman he'd pulled from obscurity into the Knight family's world had been the first to say "enough."

The door opened. Simon stepped in carefully, carrying a cup of coffee. "Sir, your coffee."

Rayan didn't look at him. "She wants a divorce," he said, his tone glacial.

Simon froze. "Madam...she--?"

"I've read the police report," Rayan cut in. "That beach is restricted. She went there on her own. I cleaned up the mess for her, and now she blames me?"

"Sir, maybe Mrs. Foster was--"

"What? Kidnapped by a wave?" Rayan's laugh was sharp, cruel. "Olivia said she drove there alone. With sunscreen and a swimsuit. That's her 'kidnapping story'?"

Simon fell silent.

"She wants to play victim," Rayan said coldly, "then let her. I'll play along."

He took a long sip of coffee, his eyes darkening. "She thinks divorce will scare me. That I'll come running after her."

"Will you, sir?" Simon asked carefully.

"In her dreams." His voice dropped to a lethal calm. "She needs to learn where she stands."

Did Hazel really think she could survive without him? She had no skills, no experience--she'd be lost within a week. The thought only fueled his anger.

"Freeze all her credit cards," he ordered. "Let's see how long she can keep pretending."

Simon's throat tightened, but he nodded and left.

***

That night, when Hazel walked out from the bathroom, a message popped up on her phone.

Notification: Your credit card ending in **** has been frozen.

She stared at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. Rayan always moved fast. But if he thought she couldn't survive without him, he was wrong.

He never really knew her at all.

Fine. If he was so eager to cut her off, she'd make it easy for him.

She blocked his number, put her phone aside on the table, and lay on the bed, ready to have a goodnight sleep. Tomorrow is a big day and she need a lot of energy.

The next morning.

Hazel slipped into a bright red dress, she asked her friend to deliver before. The kind she hadn't worn in years. Rayan had never liked red. He'd been so controlling that if she didn't wear his preferred colors, he'd refuse to go out with her.

She couldn't believe she'd ever tolerated that.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Hazel saw something unfamiliar--a woman standing tall and elegant, wrapped in bold, blazing color. The fabric hugged her curves, the shade commanded attention. This--this was who she truly was. Daring.

Fierce. A woman unafraid to speak her mind.

She called a taxi and headed to RK Mansion.

This would be the last she would go to RK Mansion one last time--

--to end it all, on her own terms.

****

When the butler opened the door, the silver tray in his hands almost slipped. "Madam? You--"

"Not for much longer," Hazel interrupted calmly and walked past him.

The old man stared at her, stunned. The shy, compliant woman he once knew was gone. In her place stood someone composed, poised, and radiant with quiet confidence.

"Where's Rayan?" she asked softly.

"H-he's having breakfast," he stammered.

Hazel nodded and went upstairs to pack. When she came back down with her suitcase, Rayan was sitting on the sofa reading a magazine.

He didn't even look up. "Have you learned your lesson?" His voice was cool, indifferent. "I can forgive your recklessness this time, but don't repeat it. Go make me a cup of coffee. Once you've done that, I'll have your cards unfrozen."

Hazel's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. So this was how little he thought of her. He truly believed she'd come crawling back to please him.

"Mr. Knight," she said evenly, "you've misunderstood. I'm not here to ask for forgiveness. I'm here to collect my things."

That got his attention. He looked up sharply, disbelief flashing across his face. Hazel met his gaze, her expression steady. "By the way, have you signed the papers? If you have, let's go to the civil court and get this over with properly."

For a long moment, the room was silent. Rayan simply stared at her, struggling to comprehend that the woman who once revolved around him was now walking away without hesitation.

When he finally lifted his head again, his expression hardened.

The woman standing before him was not the timid wife he remembered.

Her face was cold, her posture regal. The scarlet dress made her look like a rose in

full bloom--beautiful, proud, and armed with thorns.

Rayan's breath caught. For a fleeting instant, another image flashed in his mind--her.

The resemblance was uncanny.

But no. This wasn't Evelyn. Evelyn had only ever worn white.

He forced himself to regain composure, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Hazel Foster, that's enough nonsense! What makes you think you have the right to demand a divorce?"

Hazel's expression didn't change. "Mr. Knight, I'm not speaking nonsense. Marriage is built on mutual will. Love is a matter of choice. The law grants me the right to file for divorce--I don't need your permission."

Her tone was calm, but each word carried a quiet finality that made his stomach twist.

"And more importantly," she continued, voice steady, almost detached, "I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending to enjoy every restaurant you take me to, knowing they were her favorites, not mine. I'm tired of smiling at every piece of jewelry or dress you buy me, knowing they reflect her taste--not mine."

She drew in a deep breath, pain flickering in her eyes before she steadied herself again.

"But most of all," she said softly, "I'm tired of pretending not to notice how you close your eyes when you touch me--because you're thinking of someone else."

"Shut up!" Rayan roared, his authority flooding the room like a violent wave.

Hazel realized something in that moment--once she'd stopped loving him, she no longer feared him. The strength that had always been buried deep inside her finally surfaced. She looked at him, waiting.

"You think I didn't know?" he hissed, his blue eyes burning with rage and humiliation. "You knew from the start you were a replacement, didn't you? You knew who I loved, and still you married me. You chose to live in her shadow, to play her part--and now you have the nerve to talk about love? About divorce?"

"Yes," Hazel said simply. Then her voice turned cold. "Because I finally realized something--you'll never be worthy of love."

For a second, the air itself seemed to crackle. Hazel saw the red flare in his eyes--feral, violent--but then his fist loosened.

He let out a cold laugh. "You want to leave? Fine. You're not even worth being a replacement anymore."

Hazel's fingers tightened at her side, but she didn't look away. "Good," she said quietly. "Because I'm done being the ghost of your fantasy. Your love, Rayan, is a disease. No sane woman would want it. Except Olivia--she's just as sick as you are."

Rayan froze, fury surging through him like fire. "Shut your mouth! You don't deserve my love!" he shouted, lunging forward.

He grabbed her wrist and threw her down on the sofa. "You think I can't live without you? You really think I'd miss you?"

Hazel didn't flinch. Her eyes were sharp, defiant.

"Perfect," she said icily. "The courthouse is on your route to work. Let's go--it won't take long."

He clenched his jaw, the tension between them so thick it was suffocating.

Neither of them noticed the maid in the corner, watching quietly before slipping away to make a phone call.

After a long silence, Rayan sneered. "You think divorce is that simple? What about assets? Alimony?"

"I don't want anything," Hazel said firmly. "You don't have to worry about how I'll survive."

"You don't want anything?" His voice dripped with contempt. "Hazel Foster, do you even know yourself? You have no talent, no skill. Without me, you're nothing. Do you really think you can survive out there?"

So that's what he truly thought of her.

Hazel smiled faintly--a humorless, tired smile. "Mr. Knight, once we're divorced, we're strangers. My life or death has nothing to do with you. And honestly, I'd rather beg on the streets than live as someone's substitute."

Something flickered in his eyes--anger, maybe disbelief--but it struck right at his pride.

At that moment, the sharp click of heels echoed through the hallway.

Olivia appeared in the doorway, carrying a breakfast tray and wearing that practiced mask of innocence. Her voice was light and pleasant, but her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Rayan, Hazel, what are you two talking about? I hope I'm not interrupting."

Hazel's lips twitched in disdain. "If I said you were, would you leave?"

Olivia froze for a split second. She hadn't expected Hazel to strike back--so bold, so unapologetically sharp.

Putting on her most pitiful expression, Olivia moved closer to Rayan and whispered tearfully, "Rayan, I swear I didn't mean to interrupt. It's just...I've been dreaming about Evelyn lately. She was crying so hard, saying you've stopped loving her. I couldn't sleep, so I came to check on you."

At the mention of Evelyn, Rayan's expression softened involuntarily. "You dreamed about her? What else did she say?"

Olivia bit her lip delicately. "She said you haven't changed--that you still love her.

Maybe...maybe it's just because it was her death anniversary a few days ago. She must really miss us."

Rayan's eyes dimmed. "Of course not. I'd never stop loving her. If you dream of Evelyn again, tell her yourself--I never changed."

Olivia let out a small, fake laugh through her tears. "Rayan, you're such a good man."

Hazel's stomach twisted with disgust as she looked at them. "Cut the act. You two seem to enjoy each other's company plenty. Who knows how many times you've used Evelyn's name as an excuse to sleep together?"

"Hazel!" Rayan's voice boomed like thunder. "Watch your mouth!"

"Fine," she said coldly, glancing at her watch. "Believe whatever you want. Can we finalize the divorce now? I don't have time to waste."

Olivia's smile faltered. If they got divorced, she could finally take Hazel's place--but Rayan still hadn't agreed. Panic flickered in her eyes.

"Rayan," she said softly, slipping into her peacemaker tone, "before she died, my sister's only wish was for you to be happy. Maybe...maybe you should forgive Hazel--for her sake?"

Hazel's temper flared. "Shut up, Olivia. My divorce has nothing to do with the dead. I don't need your pity."

Olivia's eyes glistened. "Rayan, why is she talking to me like that? Did I say something wrong?"

Rayan instinctively pulled her into his arms. "Don't be afraid. She's lost her mind--just ignore her."

That last sentence broke what little restraint Hazel had left.

Sensing victory, Olivia gave a small, smug smile. "Hazel, being like my sister was the best thing that ever happened to you. Otherwise, you'd never have become the lady of this house. You should be grateful."

Hazel let out a cold laugh. "Grateful? Olivia, do you want to take my place that badly? You've been coveting your brother-in-law for years."

"Enough!" Rayan roared, slamming his hand on the table. "You want a divorce so badly? Fine! Take whatever you want!"

Hazel's smile turned calm, almost triumphant. "You should've said that sooner."

Dragging her suitcase behind her, she walked straight out the door.

Rayan stormed after her, fury in his stride, while Olivia hurried to follow, feigning concern.