His Wife Was Never in Love Novel – Everyone in the upper-class social circle knew what I was. A professional gold digger. I had agreed to become Julian Sterling’s fiancée for one reason only: money. He treated me like a stand-in for the woman he truly loved. I treated him like an unlimited platinum card. It was a clean, mutually beneficial arrangement. At least, it had been. Then Tiffany Vance, his so-called childhood sweetheart and technically his stepsister, returned from overseas. I was supposed to bow out gracefully and hand him back without a fuss. Instead, I found myself hesitating.
Handsome, rich, and generous benefactors were rare. Replacing one was harder than people thought. I was still calculating how to cling to my position with dignity when I walked into the living room and saw something that wiped every thought from my mind. Julian was holding my mother’s ring in one hand and a small tool in the other. Tiffany stood beside him, smiling expectantly. With cold precision, he pried the center stone right out of the setting. That ring was the only thing my mother had ever left me.
Julian noticed my expression change. His face tightened with impatience. He pulled out his checkbook as if this were a minor inconvenience. “Name your price,” he said flatly. “I’ll pay double.” I looked at his sharp, detached features and felt something inside me snap back into place. That was right. People like me had no business getting sentimental. Feelings were useless. Cash was universal. I lifted my chin and smiled sweetly. “Triple. Is that okay?” … Julian froze for half a second, then let out a low, knowing laugh. As if he had expected nothing less. His pen moved swiftly across the check.
He added a string of zeros before tearing it off with a crisp rip and holding it out to me. “Five million dollars. That old ring wasn’t worth more than five hundred thousand at most. I’m giving you ten times that. Is it enough?” I had only ever seen that many zeros in my dreams. When I took the check, my eyes curved into crescents. “Enough? It’s more than enough.” Tiffany was still holding the gemstone he had just pried loose. Watching me beam like I had won the lottery clearly wasn’t part of her plan. She had come back today specifically to humiliate me.
Earlier, she had casually commented on how beautiful the center stone on the ring at my vanity looked. She had known Julian would get it for her. She had counted on him choosing her without hesitation. The scene had been carefully designed. I would walk in, see the ring destroyed, and break down like a jealous wife. I would scream. I would make a scene. She would play the fragile victim, and Julian would grow even more disgusted with me. Maybe he would even throw me out for good. What she had not expected was that I would fold so easily.
Her voice rose sharply. “Serena Miller, are you really that greedy?” She gestured at me, eyes blazing. “Mrs. Higgins told me that ring was the only thing your mother left you. If you can be this cold about your own parents, how much of your so-called love for Julian is real? And this stupid rock…” She flung the gemstone at my feet. It hit the marble floor and rolled, picking up fine scratches as it went. “I don’t want something that belongs to someone like you. It’s filthy.” Julian frowned slightly at her outburst, though he said nothing. I didn’t get angry.
I simply bent down, picked up the stone, and blew the dust off it. “Miss Vance,” I said calmly, “there’s something Mrs. Higgins probably forgot to mention.” “My mother was a drug addict. When I was six, she sold me through an illegal adoption broker to pay for her marijuana habit.” “Years later, when she saw I had managed to claw my way into this world, she suddenly wanted to ‘reclaim’ me. She spent a ridiculous amount of money buying this ring and tried to use it as a symbol of reconciliation.” “I refused.
I called the police instead. She was convicted on multiple felony charges and was executed years ago.” I slipped the gemstone into my pocket and smiled brightly at Tiffany. “So being able to trade something like that for five million dollars? That’s a fantastic deal. But since you don’t like it, I guess I’ll just keep the extra profit to myself.” “Thank you, Miss Vance.” Tiffany’s face flushed crimson. She looked like she had swallowed something sharp. I enjoyed it far more than I should have. “Miss Vance just got back to the States today,” I added smoothly. “You must be exhausted from the flight. I had Mrs. Higgins prepare the guest suite for you.
Get some rest.” Then I turned to Julian, my gaze softening into something far more intimate. “So… honey, I’ll head upstairs first. I’ll be waiting for you in the master bedroom.” As I walked away, I could almost hear Tiffany grinding her teeth behind me. Please. I was a professional. Don’t challenge my livelihood with your hobby. Back in the master bedroom, the ruined ring setting still lay on the vanity, bent and broken. I took the gemstone out of my pocket and set it beside it. After a quiet sigh, I rummaged through a drawer for glue, attempting to piece it back together. I had been six when my addicted mother “privately placed” me with a couple who couldn’t conceive. Forty thousand dollars. I had no idea whether she spent it all on drugs or something else.
I had been old enough to remember. Old enough to work. After signing a so-called private guardianship agreement, that couple treated me like unpaid labor. I cooked, cleaned, scrubbed floors. If I was slow, they hit me. Sometimes they withheld food just to watch me cry. A few years later, they miraculously conceived a son. And just like that, I was surplus inventory. They sold me again through the same underground network. This time, they were even more vicious. They sold me to a sixty-year-old alcoholic. They told him that once I reached legal age, I could be his wife. At first, he limited himself to lewd comments because I was still too young. After six months, his hands started wandering. Every night became a calculated battle. I slept lightly, terrified that if I drifted too deep, I would wake up to something worse than words.
Two years later, he wrapped his truck around a tree while driving drunk and died at the scene. I entered the state foster care system and bounced between homes until I clawed my way to adulthood. My biological mother sold me for money. My adoptive mother sold me for money. So yes, maybe I was materialistic. But I had never known what it felt like to be loved. I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about romance. Money problems were real. Love problems were for people who could afford them. Spend a few days working a nine-to-five and all that dramatic love talk suddenly looked ridiculous.
Thankfully, I loved money. And money loved me back. I was lost in those memories when Julian’s voice sounded behind me. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know that was your mother’s ring.” I turned, shaking my head with a polished smile. “It’s fine. You compensated me, didn’t you? With that much money, I could buy dozens of rings.” His gaze dropped to the glue in my hand. He didn’t look reassured. If anything, his expression grew more complicated, as though he thought I was pretending to be stronger than I was. He fell silent. I paused, then picked up my phone. “Oh, right. There’s actually something I need to tell you…” Before I could finish, a piercing scream ripped down the hallway from the guest suite. “Julian! Help!” His expression darkened instantly. Without a second thought, he turned and ran out. My hand froze midair, phone extended toward the empty doorway. On the screen was a digital medical report. [Early pregnancy. Six weeks.] I watched his retreating figure until the screen dimmed and went black. The smile on my lips faded, little by little. That night, Julian never returned to the master bedroom. See? Money was the only thing that never walked away.