Watch The Jilted Ex-Wife Take Everything

In the spacious study, Kaelynn Browning felt everything blur before her eyes, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her hand froze over the mouse. Every instinct in her screamed at her to delete that message, to throw it into the trash and act like it never existed.

But she couldn't. She forced herself to look at the evidence on the computer that broke her heart.

She clicked on it, and a photo appeared before her eyes.

It was her husband Dane. He was in a dimly lit restaurant, the kind with white tablecloths and hushed conversations. He was smiling, a genuine smile she hadn't seen directed at her in years.

Across from him, a blonde woman laughed, her head tilted back. Kaelynn recognized her instantly.

Candyce Smith, a B-list actress with a reputation for dating wealthy men.

A sharp, cold pain shot through Kaelynn's chest. She forced herself to breathe. In. Out. She had to see it all.

She clicked through the photos. The intimacy escalated. A hand on the small of Candyce's back. A shared kiss in the back of a town car. Them walking into the lobby of The Carlyle, their bodies close.

One photo stopped her cold. They were standing on a balcony somewhere, the city lights twinkling behind them. Dane was gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind Candyce's ear.

The look in his eyes... it was a tender, adoring gaze she had once dreamed of receiving. A look she now knew was never meant for her.

She bit down on her lower lip, the pressure sharp and grounding. She tasted the coppery tang of blood.

Her eyes scanned the file names. One stood out.

Dottie_Birth_Certificate.pdf

Her hand trembled as she clicked. The document loaded, a standard State of New York form. A child's name: Dorothy "Dottie" Underwood. Father: Dane Underwood.

Mother: Candyce Smith.

The text swam before her eyes. Dottie. A daughter. He had a daughter.

Another file was a photo album. "Dottie's 5th Birthday." She opened it. There they were, a perfect family of three, standing in front of the Cinderella Castle at Disney World.

Dane held a little girl with his same gray eyes and Candyce's blonde hair. Candyce was beaming, her arm wrapped around Dane's waist. They looked happy. Real.

This time, Kaelynn Browning was truly desperate. She felt like she couldn't breathe. It was because she thought of her child.That child who died shortly after birth.

Five years ago, Kaelynn had been in a sterile hospital room, the silence screaming around her after the doctors told her their child had been stillborn.

Dane had stood by the window, his back to her, and said in a voice devoid of emotion, "We won't be having children, Kaelynn. Not now, not ever."

A choked sob escaped her lips. The sound was ugly, ripped from the depths of her. He hadn't just cheated. He had built an entire life, a complete family, in the shadow of their marriage.

Her gaze fell on the last file, a video. It was a recent interview with a financial news network. She pressed play. Dane, looking powerful and confident in a tailored suit, spoke about his corporation's future.

"My family is my bedrock," he said to the camera, his expression serious and sincere. "They are the reason I do what I do."

The hypocrisy was a physical blow. A wave of nausea rolled through her, so intense she had to grip the edge of the mahogany desk.

She closed the folder, the screen going dark. She leaned back in the cold leather chair, her body limp, her eyes fixed on the ornate ceiling. The silence of the house pressed in on her. She had known he was distant. She had known the passion was gone.

But she never imagined this. This was not a simple betrayal. It was the complete annihilation of their shared reality.

Minutes passed. The initial shock receded, replaced by something else. A chilling, crystalline clarity. The grief was still there, a massive black hole in her chest, but around its edges, a cold fury began to form.

She looked back at the email. An unfamiliar address. The subject line was simple, six words that made the air in her lungs turn to ice. What a wife ought to know.

At the bottom, there was a final line of text. A bank account number and an amount.

For the source files and silence.

Kaelynn stared at the message, the irony cutting deep. They had sent her something this crucial-did they really think her choices would have any meaningful impact on the Underwood dynasty? As if she mattered.

Everyone at Andwood Manor knew she was Lady Underwood, the mistress of the manor. But only she herself truly understood the truth.

Columns of expenses for the Underwood estate, a sprawling mansion in Greenwich that had never felt like home. Landscaping. Staff salaries. A five-figure sum for wine restocking.

None of it was hers. She was just the curator of a life that belonged to her husband, Dane. A ghost in a gilded cage.

Without a moment's hesitation, she opened a new tab and logged into her personal trust account. It was a fund her mother had established for her long before she'd met Dane, a safety net he knew nothing about.

She never thought she would need it. She initiated the wire transfer for the full amount.

She began to reply to this email.

The money you asked for has been deposited into that bank account. Now, please send me everything. Finally, delete your copy of it.

Kaelynn decided to buy out those photos that could ruin Dane and his lover's reputations.

She knew that Dane's reputation was worth far more than that price.

With these pieces of evidence in hand, how could there be any trouble in negotiating the division of property?

After all this is completed, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, so profound she felt her bones might dissolve.

She clicked on one of the photos again to view it.She kept staring at the girl in the photos over and over again.

If their children hadn't died young, they would probably be about the same age as this girl.

But now, nothing can be brought back to the way it was.

She pushed herself up from the chair and walked to the window. The manicured gardens of the estate stretched out below, perfect and lifeless under the moonlight. A beautiful prison. She pulled out her phone.

Her contact list was a who's who of New York society, hundreds of names. But in this moment, there was only one person who could help. She found the name and pressed call.

It rang twice before a bright, energetic voice answered. "Kae! Calling me this late? Did you miss me?"

Kaelynn took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing her voice to remain steady. The calmness in her own tone was terrifying.

"Audrey, I need you."

"What's wrong?" The levity in Audrey's voice vanished, replaced by concern.

"I need you to draft a divorce agreement."

A beat of silence on the other end.

"And I want to take back everything that belongs to me," Kaelynn continued, her voice as cold and hard as steel. "Every single cent."

The sun rose, but for Kaelynn, the night had never ended.

She hadn't slept. Instead, she'd sat in the dark, the images from the folder replaying in her mind on a torturous loop.

Yet, when she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman of unnerving composure. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed, but her hands were steady as she fastened a pair of simple diamond studs.

She chose a charcoal gray sheath dress and black pumps. Armor for the battle ahead.

Downstairs, the housekeeper, Martha Walsh, was setting out a single place for breakfast. The older woman's kind face creased with worry as she saw Kaelynn.

"Mrs. Underwood, you're up early. Can I get you some coffee? You look..."

"I'm fine, Martha. Thank you," Kaelynn said, her smile feeling brittle and foreign on her lips. She couldn't eat. The thought of food made her stomach clench.

She was walking toward the grand foyer, her purse in hand, when the screech of tires on the gravel driveway shattered the morning quiet. A black sedan stopped abruptly, and the driver's door flew open.

Jolie Price, Dane's executive assistant, emerged like a storm cloud. Her heels clicked an angry rhythm on the marble floor as she marched into the house, her face a mask of contempt.

"Miss Browning," Jolie spat the name, stopping directly in front of Kaelynn. "I didn't think you'd be so desperate."

Miss Browning.

Yes, it's not Mrs. Underwood, but Miss Browning.

Jolie thought Kaelynn was just another one of Dane's dalliances.

It was a well-known secret at The Underwood Corporation that the CEO kept a beautiful, quiet woman in his Greenwich estate.

No one knew they were married. Dane had insisted on keeping their union private, for "business reasons."

At first, Kaelynn was confused about this. But out of love for Dane and not wanting to affect his career, she chose to compromise.

Now, Kaelynn understood the real reason.

Kaelynn looked at her, her expression unreadable. Jolie was young, ambitious, and notoriously territorial over Dane. "Jolie. I don't believe we had an appointment."

A humorless laugh escaped Jolie's lips. "Don't play dumb. The news last night. You leaked it, didn't you?"

Kaelynn's mind raced. News?

Jolie saw her momentary confusion as guilt. She pressed on, her voice a low, vicious hiss. "The pictures of Dane and Candyce are all over the gossip sites! Did you really think a cheap trick like that would make him get rid of her?"

Kaelynn suddenly understood what had been released. The anonymous source hadn't just sent the files to her.The other person cheated her out of some money, and then they'd sent a curated selection to the media. The affair was public.

This is really terrible. She had planned to use this method to get back what belonged to her and then leave this place. But now, she has no chips left.

But from what Jolie said, it seems like that child isn't made public yet, at least not for now. Perhaps this is a breakthrough.

"Jolie, I have no idea what you're talking about," Kaelynn said, her voice perfectly even.

Jolie sneered and thrust a folded copy of the New York Post at her. The front page was a grainy photo of Dane and Candyce at the restaurant. The headline screamed: "Billionaire's New Belle?"

"You think this makes you special?" Jolie's voice was laced with a jealousy so raw it was almost pathetic. She'd been in love with Dane for years. "He's just playing with you. He'll get tired of you, just like all the others."

Kaelynn's gaze drifted past Jolie to Martha, who stood frozen by the dining room entrance, her face a mixture of shock and concern. This was happening in her home. This employee was humiliating her in front of her staff.

A switch flipped inside Kaelynn. The hurt, the grief, it all receded, replaced by a glacial calm.

She met Jolie's furious glare. "Jolie Price," she said, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight. "On what authority are you questioning me?"

"I'm Dane's executive assistant!" Jolie puffed out her chest, a ridiculous display of borrowed power.

Kaelynn took a slow, deliberate step forward. The five-foot-ten assistant suddenly seemed small.

"And I," Kaelynn said, her words precise and cutting, "am Dane Underwood's wife. Mrs. Underwood."

She slowly extended her finger, and a ring symbolizing Mrs. Underwood came into Jolie's sight. It was a ring that every woman in high society desired. Jolie wanted it even more, so she knew it was real.

The color drained from Jolie's face. Her jaw went slack. She stared at Kaelynn as if seeing her for the first time. The expensive but understated dress, the quiet confidence, the wedding band that she'd never noticed before. It all clicked into place.

"You... you're married?" Jolie stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Kaelynn didn't bother to answer. She turned her head slightly toward the housekeeper.

"Martha, please show Miss Price out. And inform security that she is not to be permitted on this property again without my explicit permission."

The authority in her voice was absolute. Martha, recovering from her shock, immediately stepped forward. "Miss Price. This way, please."

Jolie's face burned with humiliation. Julie's face burned with humiliation. But then, as if something occurred to her, a cruel smile appeared on her lips. She straightened her shoulders, and narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits.

"Enjoy your ring, Mrs. Underwood. Enjoy this house as well. Keep playing the role of the perfect, quiet wife. Because things won't end so easily. And by then, I won't be as polite as I am today."

She let the threat hang in the air for a moment, then turned and left.

The moment the front door closed, the rigid control in Kaelynn's posture dissolved. A tremor ran through her, and she leaned a hand against the wall for support.

Martha rushed to her side. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

Kaelynn shook her head, pushing herself upright. "I'm fine, Martha. Please have the car brought around. I need to go out."

Her eyes fell on the newspaper Jolie had dropped. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the smiling face of her husband with his mistress. The photo was a fresh stab of pain, but it also fueled the fire that was now burning in her gut.

This changed things. She had to move faster.

She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Audrey.

Plan has changed. On my way now.

The meeting with Audrey had been a blur of legal jargon and quiet, fierce support. Armed with the initial batch of evidence, Audrey was already drafting a petition that would hit Dane like a freight train.

Kaelynn returned to the estate feeling hollowed out, every nerve ending raw. She bypassed the main living areas and went straight to the small, sun-drenched room at the back of the house. The meditation room. Her mother had designed it, a sanctuary of clean lines, pale wood, and a single, serene Buddha statue. It was the only place in the house that felt like hers.

She sat on a silk cushion, trying to find her breath, when her phone buzzed. Jolie Price.

Kaelynn's thumb hovered over the screen before pressing 'decline.'

It rang again immediately. She declined it again .

A second later, A text message arrived.

Mrs. Browning, if you don't answer my call, I can't guarantee there won't be... complications with the funding for your mother's care at Cedar Crest Sanitarium.

The blood in Kaelynn's veins turned to ice. Her mother, Elizabeth, suffered from a rare, degenerative neurological disease. She was in a private, long-term care facility, receiving an experimental treatment that cost a fortune. A fortune paid for by a discretionary fund controlled by Dane.

He's more ruthless than she imagined.

He knew full well that her mother was the only blood relative she had in this world!

Her hand shook as she dialed the number. Jolie answered on the first ring, her voice dripping with triumphant malice.

"Changed your mind?"

"If you touch my mother's care," Kaelynn said, her voice a low, dangerous growl, "I will end you."

Jolie laughed, a high, sharp sound. "Oh, I wouldn't dare. But Dane might. He's very, very angry, Mrs. Underwood. You leaking those photos has made things very difficult for him."

Explaining that she wasn't the source was pointless. Jolie wouldn't believe her, and Dane clearly already had his mind made up.

"Where is Dane? I want to speak to him," Kaelynn demanded, gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles were white.

"He's in a very important meeting," Jolie purred. "But he'll talk to you. After you've shown you're sorry. You need to do something to prove you understand the trouble you've caused."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Kneel," Jolie said, the word slithering from the phone. "Kneel on the floor of that pretty little meditation room. In front of of that statue. Repent for your mistake. I'll be watching on the room's security feed."

It was the ultimate degradation. To defile this space, her mother's space, with such a vile act of submission.

Kaelynn's fingernails dug into her palm, the sharp pain a distant anchor in a sea of rage and helplessness. But the threat was real. Her mother's life was on the line. She couldn't risk it.

She took a ragged breath and slowly, stiffly, lowered herself to the cold marble floor. The humiliation was a physical weight, crushing the air from her lungs.

On the other end of the line, Jolie let out a soft, satisfied sigh. "Good girl. Now, you wait."

The line went dead.

Time stretched into an eternity. Each second was a fresh wave of shame. She knelt there, her body aching, her mind numb, staring at the serene face of the Buddha.

How long she knelt, she didn't know. An hour? Two? The scent of the sun-drenched room was subtle, just like Dane's scent. It filled Kaelynn's surroundings completely.

There has never been a moment when she was more determined than now-to divorce Dane.

Seeing this, Martha anxiously raised her voice to plead for her: "Jolie, Mrs. Underwood can't kneel like that! Her knees aren't good. It's really not possible for her to do that."

Five years ago, after her child died prematurely, Dane offered only lukewarm comfort. He continued to travel around the world, claiming it was for work.

What he didn't know was that, countless late nights, she knelt here and prayed to God to give her child back. This led to her health problems.

Whenever it rains, her knees hurt terribly. There's no way to cure this pain permanently,her can only control it with medication.

Even Martha knew these things, but Dane didn't.

Martha and Jolie's pleas went unheeded: "I'll call the gentleman right now!"

Enduring the excruciating pain in her knees, she gritted her teeth and said, "Martha, don't call Dane."

She didn't tell him these things before, for fear that he'd feel sad too.

But now, it's no longer necessary.

Because Dane wouldn't feel sad for her at all.

But Martha wouldn't listen and insisted on calling him.

But once again, it wasn't Dane who answered the phone.

A small, high-pitched voice answered, hesitant and sweet. "Hello? Are you looking for my daddy?"

The world tilted on its axis. Kaelynn's mind went completely blank. It was a child's voice. Dottie's voice.

"Daddy's reading me a story," the little girl chirped, her voice filled with innocent joy. "He's busy right now."

The call disconnected.

Kaelynn remained kneeling, the phone slipping from her numb fingers and clattering onto the marble floor. He wasn't in a meeting. He was with them. With his daughter. While she was on her knees, being humiliated for a crime she didn't commit, he was playing the doting father.

The pain was so immense, so absolute, it felt like her heart had stopped beating.

Her phone began to ring again. This time, the screen displayed Dane's name.

With a trembling hand, she answered.

"Jolie just told me everything," Dane's voice was cold, clipped, and utterly devoid of emotion. "She's fired."

Kaelynn couldn't speak.

"No one disciplines my staff but me," he continued, his tone like ice. "And no assistant has the right to interfere in my private affairs.In an hour, I'll be home. Come to the study to find me. We need to talk."

The line went dead. He hadn't fired Jolie for what she'd done to Kaelynn. He'd fired her for overstepping her bounds. For daring to touch what he considered his. It wasn't about protecting his wife. It was about protecting his power.

Slowly, painfully, Kaelynn pushed herself to her feet and started toward the study, each step feeling like she was walking to her own execution.

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