Drugged, Jilted, Now A Billionaire's Wife

My fiancé of twenty years left me at the altar for another woman, a manipulative liar faking a terminal illness.

To grant her "dying wish," he not only demanded a divorce but delivered the final, cruel blow that shattered our shared dream of a family forever.

On the day he tried to marry her, I entered a proxy marriage with a comose billionaire to escape-and my new husband woke up.

Chapter 1

Estella Holloway POV:

The first time I saw my fiancé on our wedding day wasn't at the altar. It was on the hospital television, his arm wrapped around another woman.

A dull ache throbbed at the back of my head, a counterpoint to the sterile beeping of the heart monitor beside me. The last thing I remembered was the pristine white of my Vera Wang gown pooling on the floor of the bridal suite, the scent of lilies and impending joy thick in the air.

Then, Jasper's phone had buzzed.

I remembered the tight line of his jaw as he looked at the screen, the name 'Kimberley' flashing in stark, angry letters. He was the CEO of our tech company, a man used to putting out fires, but this was different. This was a five-alarm blaze in his soul.

"I have to go," he'd said, his voice clipped.

"Jasper, no," I'd pleaded, a cold dread seeping into my bones. We'd been here before. This same emergency, this same woman, had postponed our wedding twice already. "Not today. Please."

Kimberley Riley. His trauma specialist. The woman he'd hired to help him cope with the PTSD from a business failure years ago-a failure I had pulled him out of, piece by painful piece. She was a master manipulator, a cuckoo in our nest, and she had diagnosed herself with a rare, stress-induced disorder that only Jasper, apparently, could soothe.

"Her condition is acting up, Estella," he'd said, his eyes avoiding mine. "It's my fault. The stress of the wedding..."

"It's not your fault," I'd insisted, grabbing his arm. My meticulously manicured nails dug into the fine fabric of his tuxedo. "She's doing this on purpose. Can't you see that?"

He saw only what she wanted him to see: a fragile victim he was duty-bound to save. He saw me as an obstacle.

"Don't be so selfish," he'd snapped, his words a slap in the face. The charisma he showed the world had vanished, leaving only cold, hard resentment.

Tears welled in my eyes. "Just... give me ten minutes," I begged, my voice cracking. "Just ten minutes. Let's say our vows. Let me be your wife. Then you can go. I won't stop you."

It was the most pathetic plea I had ever made, a final, desperate grasp at the future we had spent a decade building.

He looked at me, not with love, but with impatience. Annoyance. He pried my fingers from his arm, one by one.

When he shoved me away, it wasn't with malice, but with the careless