The Billionaire's Discarded Wife

On our wedding day, I changed the bride price from $6,600 to $26,000—every cent for my mom's emergency surgery.

Wyatt Sanchez looked at me, expression unreadable. "If I don't agree, the wedding's off?"

I was pale, shaking. "Yes."

He didn't argue. He signed the new amount.

But when he took my arm to help me out of the car, I heard it—two words, light as air, cold as ice: "Gold digger."

From that day on, he paraded mistresses in front of me. Let everyone call me the bride with a price tag.