seohyangchen

“Did you just marry the richest man in the country… by accident? How does that even happen?”

Delphinia sighed dramatically. “I know, I’m such an overachiever. But it’s easy, really. Step one: drink too much. Step two: find the perfect man. Step three: say ‘I do’ before he realizes I’m a walking disaster.”

“And the revenge?”

She raised her glass. “Served cold, with a diamond bigger than my ex’s ego.”

—

After years trapped in a loveless, abusive marriage, Delphinia had one plan: leave her toxic past behind and never look back. But freedom isn’t as sweet as she’d hoped. With no family to turn to and no place to go, she crashes with her best friend…only to end up at a party where one too many drinks lead to one tiny (accidental) marriage to Evander Walton.

Handsome, rich, and absolutely off-limits, Evander is everything Delphinia thought she’d never have. And he has just one condition if she wants to break things off: she’ll have to pay him back…for the huge diamond ring she barely remembers accepting. Broke and in no position to negotiate, she’s got no choice but to play along with her accidental husband and the lavish life that comes with him.

Now she’s living in luxury, holding her head high, and plotting the sweetest revenge against the ex who tried to ruin her. Because if there’s one thing Delphinia knows, it’s that payback is best served in designer heels.

Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband

The tension in the room was clear as Lydia crossed her arms, her piercing gray eyes fixed on Evander. The slight tilt of her lips suggested amusement, but it was clear she was sizing him up, as she always did.

"So, how are you doing these days?" Lydia asked, her voice light, almost casual, as though they were old friends catching up.

Evander leaned back against the couch, his expression didn't change. "I was fine," he snapped, his words biting. He let his gaze drift lazily to her, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Until you showed up."

Lydia laughed, the sound high and airy, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—irritation, perhaps. She shrugged off the jab and walked over to the armchair across from him, sitting down with the ease of someone who believed she belonged anywhere she pleased. Crossing one long leg over the other, she sat back and eyed him with quiet indifference.

Her Claims