99 Houses for His Love One for My Freedom novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

How rich can a person be?

My husband’s filthy rich; people call him the King of Real Estate.

Every time he sneaks off to see his high school sweetheart, he transfers one property into my name.

By the time I owned 99 properties, he finally noticed something had changed.

I stopped crying and stopped begging him to stay home.

Instead, I calmly chose the best villa in Marina Heights.

He signed without hesitation, then looked at me with soft eyes.

“When I get back, I’ll take you to watch the fireworks.”

I smiled, tucked the papers away, and nodded obediently.

And didn’t tell him that he just signed wasn’t a deed transfer.

It was our divorce agreement.

In his office, the flat–screen TV played news of Tiffany Monroe’s return to the country.

His eyes never left the screen. Not even when he signed the deed I’d just handed him.

Marina Heights Villa No. 1—one of the most sought–after, impossible–to–buy properties in all of

Westbridge.

It meant nothing to him.

Just like I meant nothing to him.

When the news segment ended, he was in an unusually good mood. He twirled the pen between his fingers

before handing the documents back to me with a grin.

“I must’ve transferred you, what, sixty–something houses by now? You’re practically a real estate tycoon

yourself.”

His tone was light, almost teasing, but the joy behind it wasn’t for me.

It was for her. His Tiffany was finally coming home.

I stood there, emotionless. “The villa in Marina Heights overlooks the ocean. I like it.”

Chapter 1

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I didn’t tell him that it was actually the hundredth house he’d given me.

Back when he first pursued me, Ethan Whitmore was rejected ninety–nine times.

He was relentless. And on the hundredth try, I finally said yes.

We then got married.

But his love didn’t last. It died the moment Tiffany returned for the first time. That day was our first wedding anniversary.

I waited for him beneath a canopy of candlelight and roses, the dinner he’d promised lovingly prepared.

But what arrived in his place was a deed transfer–and an apology.

“Sorry, Maddie. I missed our anniversary. Will you forgive me?”

I ignored the unfamiliar perfume clinging to him and croaked out my forgiveness–for the first time.

Out of fairness–or maybe foolishness–I decided I’d let it go ninety–nine times.

And then quickly came the second… the third… the fourth…

Over five years of marriage, he left me countless times to be with her.

Eventually, it became routine. Before he even disappeared, he’d hand me another deed like hush money.

From house one… to house ninety–nine.

And every time, I forgave him.

Until now.

This was the hundredth.

And I was done.

I smiled to myself as the thought settled. A clean, calm smile. I looked at him with a sense of peace.

Ethan paused, caught off guard. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet mine.

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