The Billionaire's Ex Wife Revenge

"No... no... no, Dad! What did you just say?" Sarah's voice was filled with disbelief. She rubbed her forehead, trying to stay calm, but the disappointment was clear on her face. She stood stiffly in front of her father, who sat on the couch, looking far too composed for her liking.

"I'm doing this for you, for us," Mr. Simon said, his voice steady but not entirely convincing.

Sarah let out a dry, humorless laugh as she sat down on the sofa next to him. "I can't believe you, Dad. How could you make such a big decision without even asking me?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for some sign of regret.

Mr. Simon shifted slightly, avoiding her gaze. "Listen, Sarah," he started, his voice softer now. "I have to save the comp-"

"My life matters too, Dad!" Sarah snapped, cutting him off. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and she looked away, her anger growing. "I won't agree to this marriage," she said firmly, shaking her head.

Mr. Simon's calm demeanor cracked as his voice turned stern. "Young woman!" he said, his tone filled with authority. "You will agree to this marriage, whether you like it or not!" He stomped his foot on the floor, his frustration boiling over. "Get ready, because you're getting married today."

"What?" Sarah's voice rose in shock, her eyes wide as she stood. "This can't be real. I thought you cared about me-about my life, my dreams, my career as a journalist!"

Mr. Simon sighed deeply, his face briefly softening before he spoke again. "I do care, Sarah. But this is the only way to save the company."

Sarah shook her head in disbelief, her voice rising with frustration. "So, saving the company means sacrificing your own daughter's dreams?" she asked, her tone laced with a mixture of hurt and anger. Mr. Simon looked away, unable to meet her gaze or offer an answer. His silence was deafening.

"I knew it," Sarah muttered bitterly, spinning on her heels and storming out of the house. Her footsteps echoed loudly against the floor as she made her way to the driveway.

"Sarah, wait!" Mr. Simon called out, rushing after her. "Where are you going? Come back here!"

But Sarah ignored him, her mind clouded with rage and disappointment. She climbed into her father's car, slammed the door, and revved the engine. Without a second thought, she sped out of the compound, barely missing the startled gateman who jumped out of the way as the car hurtled past.

The highway was busy, but Sarah's anger fueled her reckless driving. She drove for several kilometers, desperate to find some space to think and cool down. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight, her thoughts racing. She barely noticed the traffic lights turning red as she approached an intersection.

A truck barreled down the crossroad, its horn blaring. Sarah saw it too late. The impact was deafening, a violent collision that sent her car somersaulting multiple times before it slammed into the wall of a nearby coffee shop.

When the car finally came to a stop, it was a mangled wreck. Sarah lay inside, barely conscious, her body battered and bleeding. Her neck was twisted painfully, and every movement sent waves of agony through her. Within minutes, the wail of sirens pierced the air as an ambulance arrived. Paramedics carefully pulled her from the wreckage and rushed her to the hospital.

Meanwhile, Andrew stood in front of the mirror in his room, adjusting his white suit. His expression was blank, almost resigned, as he prepared for the wedding he didn't want. Yet, he knew it wasn't about what he wanted. This was a transaction-a deal to preserve power, silence questions, and cement alliances.

"You look sharp, son," came the voice of Mr. Philips, the mayor, as he entered the room. He smiled proudly at his son, his own suit perfectly pressed and his presence commanding as always.

"Thanks, Dad," Andrew replied, his voice flat but polite. He straightened his tie, glancing at his father through the mirror. The white suit fit perfectly, but it felt more like a costume than anything else.

"This marriage is an opportunity, Andrew," Mr. Philips said, moving closer and placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder. His voice was low but filled with authority. "It will strengthen our position and secure the family's grip on power and wealth. Don't forget that."

"I know, Dad," Andrew said with a small, hollow smile. "I'll make you-"

His words were cut off by the sudden ringing of Mr. Philips' phone. The mayor frowned and stepped back, fishing his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen, his face darkening slightly as he answered the call.

"Oh, it's the bride's father calling," Mr. Philips said, smiling as he showed Andrew the phone screen before answering it.

"Hello, Mr. Mayor," Mr. Simon said, his voice trembling as though the words were hard to speak. "There's a problem."

Mr. Philips quickly removed his glasses, his eyebrows rising in confusion. "And what kind of problem are we talking about, Mr. Simon?" he asked, his tone stern and serious.

"Sarah... she's in the hospital. She had an accident," Mr. Simon replied, his voice shaky and filled with worry.

"What?" Mr. Philips yelled, his face twisting in frustration. He ran a hand down his face, his anger building with each second. "Listen, Mr. Simon, this wedding has to happen! I've invited some of the most powerful and respected people in the country. I can't have you and your daughter embarrassing me like this!"

"But... but Mr. Mayor, she's unconscious! How am I supposed to fix this?" Mr. Simon asked, his own frustration starting to show in his voice.

"Fix it," Mr. Philips barked, his voice cold and sharp. "You've got one hour. I don't care what you have to do-even if it means taking the wedding to the hospital-just make sure it happens." Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call.

Sarah woke to the sound of hurried footsteps and faint voices of nurses attending to other patients. Her eyes fluttered open, blurry at first, but slowly, the room came into focus. She stared at the plain white ceiling above her, the sharp smell of disinfectant telling her she was in a hospital.

"Ouch," Sarah groaned, her hand instinctively trying to touch her neck, but her arm was heavy with bandages. "Where... where am I?" she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

She tried to turn her head to look around, but the neck brace holding her head still made even the smallest movement painful. Flashes of memory began to return-the car crash, the truck, the overwhelming pain-and she realized how she'd ended up here.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Her father, Mr. Simon, walked in, his face pale and full of concern.

"Sarah!" he called, rushing to her side. He bent down and gently hugged her, his relief spilling out in his voice. "Thank goodness you're alive," he said, his tone shaky with emotion.

"Ugh, it hurts, Dad," Sarah groaned, wincing as even the small hug sent a wave of pain through her body.

"Sorry, dear," Mr. Simon said softly as he pulled away from his daughter. His face was full of regret as he wiped his tears. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It's okay, Dad," Sarah replied, her voice quiet. She gave him a small smile, but it didn't hide the sadness in her eyes. Mr. Simon turned away, his shoulders heavy with guilt.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Sarah asked, her tone curious yet gentle as she watched him.

"The wedding has to happen," Mr. Simon said quickly, turning back to face her. "I tried to make them understand, but the mayor won't listen. He insists that-"

"Go away," Sarah interrupted, her voice soft but firm. She turned her face away, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Sar-"

"I said go away!" Sarah shouted, tears streaming down her face. Her emotions spilled over, and she began to cry uncontrollably.

Suddenly, the sound of sirens blared from outside. The loud noise startled them both. Mr. Simon glanced toward the door and then back at Sarah. "They're here, Sarah," he said nervously.

Sarah sat up quickly, her heart racing. But the sudden movement sent a sharp pain through her back. "What? No... no! I didn't agree to this!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with anger and fear. "This isn't how I planned my life!" She clutched her neck as another wave of pain hit her. "Ouch," she groaned.

Meanwhile, Andrew, his father, and the priest arrived at the hospital. A crowd of guests followed them as they made their way toward the ward where Sarah was recovering.

Sarah sat on the hospital bed, her face blank and her mind clouded with despair. She felt trapped, like a bird in a cage with no way out. Her thoughts raced as she tried to figure out a way to stop the marriage. Could she fake a sudden illness, one serious enough to halt the wedding? Or perhaps she could find a way to escape, disappearing before anyone could reach her. These ideas churned in her head, but none seemed feasible. Frustration welled up inside her as she whispered to herself, "I need to do something." Her voice was barely audible, but the determination behind it was real. She slumped back into the bed, the stiff neck support making even the smallest movements a struggle.

Across the room, her father stood quietly, his face etched with guilt and worry. "I'm sorry, Sarah," Mr. Simon said softly, his voice thick with regret as he approached her. He wanted to comfort her, to make her understand that he had no choice, but the pain in her eyes made it difficult to find the right words. He reached out, intending to hold her hand, but Sarah pulled away sharply, turning her face toward the wall. Her silence spoke louder than any words could.

Outside the ward, the commotion grew louder. The mayor and Andrew, followed by a small crowd of important-looking guests and the priest, made their way through the hospital corridors. Their presence caused a ripple of curiosity among the hospital staff and patients. Nurses paused in their duties, glancing at the group with puzzled expressions.

"What's going on?" asked a young nurse, balancing a tray of bandages and syringes. Her colleague at the receptionist desk leaned forward, trying to get a better look. "Someone important must be here," she whispered, her voice tinged with excitement.

As the entourage approached Sarah's room, she remained lost in her thoughts. Panic bubbled within her as she tried to devise a last-minute plan to stop the inevitable. "How can I possibly get married in a hospital, like this?" she blurted out, her voice shaking with anger and disbelief. She turned to her father, who stood near the window with his hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked weary, as though the weight of his decisions was finally catching up to him.

Mr. Simon sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll speak with the mayor," he began hesitantly, "maybe I can convince him to at least postpone this, or allow you to get properly dressed

Before he could finish, the door swung open with a loud creak, startling them both.

Sarah's head instinctively turned toward the doorway, her heart skipping a beat as a glimmer of hope flashed across her face. For a brief moment, she imagined someone had come to rescue her, to put an end to this nightmare. "Yes!" she exclaimed impulsively, her voice filled with sudden excitement.

Her father looked at her with confusion. "Did you say something?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Realizing her mistake, Sarah quickly shook her head, trying to mask her momentary lapse. "No, nothing, Dad," she replied, forcing a smile. The brightness in her expression seemed out of place, given the situation, but she hoped he wouldn't notice.

The mayor stepped into the room, his imposing figure immediately drawing everyone's attention. "Good morning, Mr. Mayor," Mr. Simon greeted, bowing his head slightly as a sign of respect.

The mayor barely acknowledged the greeting, his sharp eyes fixed on Sarah. His confident stride slowed as he took in the sight of her. Bandages covered her arms, and the bruises on her face were faint but visible. Her neck was immobilized by a brace, and the hospital gown hung loosely on her fragile frame. He paused mid-step, his stern expression faltering for a brief moment.

"This... this is critical," he muttered, turning toward Mr. Simon with a frown. The guests behind him whispered among themselves, their hushed tones filled with shock and concern. The mayor moved closer to the bed, his gaze lingering on Sarah's injuries as if assessing the damage.

Sarah said nothing, her body tense as she watched him approach. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, and her mind raced once more. If there was ever a moment to act, to stop this madness, it was now. But her body betrayed her, aching and weak, leaving her trapped in silence as the mayor's shadow loomed over her.

Sarah felt a fleeting moment of relief wash over her as she leaned her head back against the pillow. She took a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in her mind. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel the comfort of a brief pause from the whirlwind that was her life. But before she could even release her breath, the mayor's next words shattered that fragile moment.

"But the wedding will still go on, my dear," he said with a smile that was as cold as it was confident, before turning away and walking with the grace of someone who believed he had already won. His words hit Sarah like a slap across the face. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to process what he had just said.

"What! Excuse me, Mr. Mayor?" she managed to choke out, her voice barely audible. The neck brace made it difficult for her to speak clearly, and she winced as her words came out muffled and disjointed.

Andrew, standing nearby, grinned with an unsettling gleam in his eyes. He took a few steps closer to Sarah, his smile twisted with a sense of triumph. "There's a first time for everything," he said with a malicious edge to his voice. "And as much as I want us to get married properly, this will be the best wedding."

Sarah could feel her stomach churn with a mix of anger and disbelief. The tears that had threatened to spill earlier now welled up, blurring her vision. Her chest tightened as the gravity of the situation hit her once again. She wasn't just a bystander in this twisted game-she was the pawn. As the tears began to well up in her eyes, she looked at her father, who silently handed her a handkerchief. She took it gratefully, dabbing at her eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions.

"Let's get started, shall we?" The mayor's voice cut through the silence, his words dripping with a false cheerfulness. He snapped his fingers, signaling the start of the ceremony, as if he were directing an event instead of orchestrating a young woman's life. The priest, who had been standing quietly at the back, cleared his throat, his expression stern yet resigned.

"Yes, let's get the young one married," the priest muttered, and Sarah could hear the reluctance in his tone. He stepped forward and began flipping through his bible, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

Andrew, still standing by Sarah's side, looked down at her with a smile that made her stomach turn. His presence felt suffocating, like a weight pressing down on her chest. The priest opened the book, and with a solemn voice, began the vows.

"Do you, Mr. Andrew, accept Sarah to be your wife, in good health and sickness, for better or worse?" The priest's words were formal, almost rehearsed, but they felt like a sentence to Sarah.

"Yes, I do," Andrew responded without hesitation, his voice too eager, too rehearsed. His eyes sparkled with a sense of finality, like this was some achievement he had been working toward.

The priest turned to Sarah next, his gaze softening slightly. "Do you, Miss Sarah, accept Andrew to be your husband, in good health and sickness, for better or worse?"

Sarah's breath caught in her throat as the question hung in the air. The room felt suddenly too small, too suffocating. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing on her chest, the silence stretching between them. Her mind raced, but all she could focus on was the undeniable truth of her situation. This wasn't a choice. This wasn't love. This was a transaction, a deal sealed by the twisted wills of the people around her. And yet, the words still lingered, as if they had the power to define the rest of her life.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she wasn't sure if she could say the words. Could she, in this moment, accept this fate?

She opened her mouth, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.

Sarah sat in stunned silence, her heart racing as the weight of the moment settled around her. Her throat felt tight, and the tears that had threatened to fall earlier were now flowing freely down her face. She turned slowly, meeting her father's gaze with a pleading look, her eyes silently begging him to understand. She shook her head subtly, a silent plea: please, dad, I can't do this.

Her father, however, remained calm. His face was unreadable as he nodded gently, raising his hand in a gesture meant to reassure her. He motioned for her to settle, his eyes giving a silent command for patience. It was as if he was asking her to endure just a little longer, to not let her emotions take over in front of everyone.