CEO Thought He Married a Poor Girl. Little Did He Know, She Was the World’s Richest Woman.

CEO Thought He Married a Poor Girl. Little Did He Know, She Was the World’s Richest Woman.

People assume wealth announces itself.

It doesn’t.

Most of the time, it hides. In silence. In old sneakers. In the way someone pauses before spending money—not because they lack it, but because they remember what it felt like to.

Sue Shing learned that early.

She stood inside Dehal Mall, hands tucked into the pockets of a faded hoodie, staring at a glass display that glittered like a lie. Diamonds. Watches. The kind of objects that screamed importance but meant nothing once you’d owned too many of them.

Since I’m already here…
She sighed inwardly. Might as well look around.

The black card sat in her bag, heavy as a secret.

Zin had given it to her without ceremony, as if handing over a pen. “Use it if you need,” he’d said. “It’s already linked.”

She hadn’t touched it. Not once.

Spending a scumbag’s money still felt distasteful, even if the scumbag happened to be her legal husband.

A sharp voice sliced through the music-filled air.

“Hey. Stop right there.”

Sue looked up.

A saleswoman stood stiffly near the entrance, arms crossed, eyes sharp with judgment. Her gaze flicked from Sue’s shoes to her sleeves to the cheap canvas bag on her shoulder.

“This is a luxury store,” the woman said, lips tight. “If you can’t afford it, don’t browse. We’re not a shelter.”

Sue blinked. Then smiled.

“Oh?” she said lightly. “Then who serves the strays?”

The saleswoman’s face darkened. “You—”

Before the insult could land, another employee hurried over, clearly panicked.

“I’ll take her,” the manager said quickly, bowing slightly toward Sue. “Miss, please forgive—”

Sue raised a hand. “No need.”

Her gaze returned to the first woman.

“So,” she said casually, “is it store policy to judge customers by their age and clothes?”

A snort came from behind the counter.

“She looks like a college student,” someone muttered. “What money could she possibly have?”

Sue tilted her head. “Careful,” she said softly. “Looking down on students can get expensive.”

The saleswoman scoffed. “If you can afford anything here, I’ll eat this calculator.”

Sue reached into her bag.

The black card slid between her fingers.

“Go ahead,” she said pleasantly. “Manager. Please witness.”

The world… paused.

The manager’s pupils shrank.

“That—that’s the Supreme Black Card,” he whispered. “Only issued to VIPs who’ve spent over a hundred million here.”

A notification chimed.

Payment successful.
9,000,000 yuan.

The saleswoman’s face drained of color.

At the same moment—three floors above—another alert rang.

Inside a silent executive office, a man stopped mid-sentence.

“Repeat that,” he said.

His assistant swallowed. “President Sia… your black card. Nine million was just spent in the luxury wing at Dehal Mall.”

Sia Huene frowned.

“That card…” His fingers tightened on the desk. “That card belongs to my wife.”

A wife he had never met.

They had been married three years ago. A marriage arranged while he lay unconscious in a hospital bed, hovering between life and death. He remembered none of it. Just a name on a certificate. A shadow he never bothered to chase.

Until now.

“She’s in the mall?” he asked.

“Yes, President.”

A strange feeling stirred. Curiosity. Something sharper.

“Prepare the car,” he said. “It’s time I met her.”

Sue didn’t know he was coming.

She left the store carrying bags worth more than some people earned in a lifetime, utterly unimpressed. Money, once it exceeded necessity, lost its shine. What lingered was annoyance.

Men like Sia Huene.

Men who thought wealth excused indifference.

Men who assumed marriage was a transaction, not a promise.

Divorce, she thought. I need to finish this quickly.

Night fell.

The city shifted.

Neon lights flickered to life as Sue stepped into Nightfall Bar, a place that smelled of alcohol, sweat, and poor decisions.

She spotted him instantly.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed like someone who knew he owned every room he entered.

Zoin Sia Huene.

Her husband.

She walked straight up to him.

“I’m your wife,” she said.

He turned slowly, eyes cool, assessing her like a stranger who’d wandered too close.

“…Who?”

Sue smiled thinly. “The one you married. The one you’ve never bothered to meet.”

His gaze sharpened. “You want money?”

“No,” she said. “I want a divorce.”

That finally amused him.

“Name your price.”

She laughed once. Short. Bitter. “I’d rather pretend I got bitten by a stray dog. At least rabies shots are cheaper than dealing with you.”

His smile vanished.

“You think playing hard to get makes you interesting?”

“I think,” she said calmly, “that you’re greasy, self-obsessed, and deeply convinced the world revolves around you.”

He leaned closer. “Careful.”

“Or what?” she asked. “You’ll buy me?”

A pause.

Then—darkness.

The scent of incense. Her limbs went slack.

When Sue woke, her head throbbed.

Knockout incense.
Classy.

She stared at the ceiling, anger simmering low and lethal.

“So this is how our first meeting ends,” she muttered. “Bad luck.”

He stood near the window, back turned.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he said. “Nothing happened.”

She sat up. “Congratulations. You’ve achieved the bare minimum of decency.”

She stood, steady despite the dizziness.

“This marriage,” she said, grabbing her coat, “ends soon. I promise you that.”

He didn’t stop her.

But something in his eyes… lingered.

Later that night, Sue sat in her car, exhaling slowly.

“No way,” she muttered. “No way am I staying married to a man like that.”

But then her phone buzzed.

A message from Zin.

Grandpa’s condition isn’t good.
Please don’t upset him right now.

Sue closed her eyes.

Grandpa.

The one person who had ever truly protected her.

“…Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll handle the divorce quietly.”

What she didn’t know—

Was that Sia Huene, for the first time in his life, had begun to wonder:

Who did I marry?

And why did the thought of losing her… feel wrong?

Sue Shing had learned, long ago, that families could be more vicious than enemies.

Enemies attacked from the front.
Families smiled first.

The Sue family villa sat on a hill overlooking Schwanching, white stone and manicured hedges hiding rot beneath their roots. As the car climbed the winding road, Sue stared out the window, expression calm, fingers laced neatly in her lap.

Inside, her pulse stayed steady.

Outside, the storm gathered.

“You’re late,” her father said the moment she stepped inside.

No hello. No concern.

Her stepmother sat beside him, dabbing nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Shing, do you know how embarrassed we’ve been? People are talking. They say you offended the Sia family.”

Sue removed her coat slowly. “People always talk.”

Her younger sister, Sue Cece, leaned against the banister, arms folded. “Talking is one thing. Losing opportunities is another.”

Sue glanced at her. “And whose opportunity did I ruin this time?”

Cece smiled. Sweet. Poisoned. “Mine.”

Ah. There it was.

Her father slammed the table. “Enough. The Sia family has sent word. President Sia wants a divorce.”

Sue’s lips curved faintly. “That makes two of us.”

The room froze.

Her stepmother stared. “You—what did you say?”

“I said,” Sue repeated evenly, “that I also want a divorce.”

Her father’s face darkened. “You think you have the right?”

Sue finally looked at him directly. “I think I have the obligation.”

A sharp laugh rang out.

“Listen to her,” Cece said mockingly. “You married into wealth and now you’re acting proud? Don’t forget—you were just a substitute bride.”

Sue’s gaze didn’t waver.

“That accident,” Cece continued, circling slowly, “Brother Huene was in a coma. The Sia family needed someone to ward off bad luck. I didn’t want to become a widow, so you were sent instead.”

Sent.

Like livestock.

Sue exhaled through her nose. “And now that he’s awake, you want your position back.”

Cece didn’t deny it.

Her father nodded decisively. “That’s how it should be. What belonged to Cece must return to Cece.”

Sue smiled.

Not warmly.

“You raised me,” she said quietly. “Fed me. Clothed me. Taught me how to please men. Beat me when I refused. Sold me when the price was right.”

Her stepmother’s eyes widened. “How dare you—”

“No,” Sue said sharply. “Let me finish.”

The room went silent.

“You don’t want a daughter,” Sue continued. “You want a tool. And now you’re angry because the tool has learned how to speak.”

Her father stood, face livid. “Ungrateful brat.”

Sue nodded once. “Yes. Ungrateful.”

She turned to leave.

“Stop her,” her father barked.

Cece stepped forward. “If you walk out now, you’ll lose everything.”

Sue paused at the door.

“I lost everything the day you decided my life was currency,” she said softly. “This just makes it official.”

She walked out.

And cut ties.

Across the city, Sia Huene stood before floor-to-ceiling windows, phone pressed to his ear, jaw tight.

“The Sue family treated her cruelly,” he said. “If we divorce now, she’ll be devoured alive.”

Assistant Lynn hesitated. “President… you don’t love her.”

“No,” Huene replied. “But I owe her.”

The words surprised even him.

“She married me when I was half-dead,” he continued. “She saved my grandfather. This is repayment.”

A pause.

“Put the divorce on hold.”

“Yes, President.”

He ended the call and stared at his reflection.

Why did her face keep surfacing in his mind?

Calm. Sharp. Untouchable.

He frowned.

This was inconvenient.

Sue returned to campus the next morning, dressed simply, backpack slung over one shoulder. Schwanching University buzzed with its usual chaos.

She liked it here.

No masks. No blood prices.

Until—

“Give it back!”

A girl grabbed her wrist.

Sue frowned. “Excuse me?”

“You took my stuff!”

Sue glanced down. A notebook. Not hers.

She handed it back immediately. “You dropped it.”

The girl froze.

“Oh… sorry.”

Before Sue could respond, a familiar voice cut in.

“Here’s a card.”

Sue turned.

Sia Huene stood there, suit immaculate, presence overwhelming.

“There’s twenty million inside,” he said calmly. “I’ll take responsibility. Just not publicly.”

The surrounding students gasped.

Sue stared at the card.

Then laughed.

“Oh,” she said, pushing it back into his chest. “Is this your standard apology package?”

His brow furrowed. “You don’t want money?”

“I want you,” she said coolly, “to stop assuming money solves everything.”

She walked past him.

Left him standing there—something no one ever did.

Assistant Lynn swallowed. “President… should I—”

“No,” Huene said slowly, eyes following her retreating figure. “Let her go.”

But the feeling remained.

Unease.

Interest.

Something dangerously close to admiration.

That night, rumors spread.

About an assistant at Sia Group.

About a woman who refused hush money.

About President Sia defending someone who wasn’t supposed to matter.

And somewhere in the city, Sue Shing sat alone, sipping instant noodles, staring at her phone.

A message blinked onto the screen.

Assistant Sue.
Report to Sia Group tomorrow.

She smiled faintly.

“So,” she murmured, “you want to play.”

She didn’t know yet—

That stepping into Sia Group meant stepping into a battlefield where love, power, and revenge wore the same face.

And this time…

She wouldn’t hold back.

Power has a sound.

It isn’t loud. It doesn’t shout.
It’s the silence that spreads when the wrong person realizes they’ve picked the wrong enemy.

Sue Shing stood at the center of the conference hall, dressed in white. Not bridal white. War white. Clean. Unapologetic.

The bidding meeting had been called to order.

Executives sat stiff-backed, eyes darting. Reporters whispered. Cameras hovered like insects, waiting for blood.

At the front of the room, Sia Huene looked… tired.

Not weak. Never that.
Just worn thin in places he hadn’t known could fray.

He watched Sue from across the room, something heavy lodged in his chest.

Why now?
Why like this?

A woman stepped forward, heels sharp against marble.

Goo Yangwa.

Famous. Beloved. Perfect in the way only carefully crafted people ever are.

She smiled sadly at the room.

“As President Sia’s wife,” she said softly, “I must speak.”

A murmur rippled.

Sue didn’t react.

Goo continued, voice trembling just enough. “Someone in this company leaked confidential bid prices. And that person—” her gaze landed squarely on Sue, “—is Assistant Sue.”

Gasps.

Accusations bloomed like mold.

“She seduced the president.”

“Corporate spy.”

“No shame.”

Sue let it wash over her.

Then she laughed.

Not hysterical.
Not loud.

Just… amused.

“I didn’t leak anything,” she said calmly. “But since you’re calling me a thief—shall we look at evidence?”

Goo’s smile faltered.

Sia Huene stood abruptly. “Enough.”

The room froze.

“Sia Group has surveillance,” he continued coldly. “And a cybersecurity team that doesn’t miss fingerprints.”

Assistant Lynn stepped forward, tablet in hand.

“Last night,” he said evenly, “someone accessed the system under Madam Goo’s credentials. The bid files were altered remotely.”

Goo’s face drained.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered.

Sue tilted her head. “Is it?”

She stepped forward, heels echoing.

“I never wanted this public,” Sue said, voice carrying effortlessly. “But you don’t stop wolves by pretending they’re lambs.”

She raised her hand.

The screen behind her lit up.

Transaction records.
Poison reports.
Surveillance footage.

A video played.

Master Sia.
A drink.
A pause too long.

Gasps turned to shouts.

Someone screamed.

Goo staggered back. “Fake! It’s fabricated!”

Sue looked at her, eyes flat. “Police-verified. Cross-checked. Timestamped.”

She paused.

“You poisoned him. Slowly. Over months.”

The room erupted.

Security moved. Reporters surged.

Goo collapsed, screaming, “You planned this! You ruined me!”

Sue leaned down, voice quiet enough that only Goo heard.

“No,” she said. “You ruined yourself. I just stopped protecting you.”

Handcuffs clicked.

The doors slammed shut behind her.

Silence returned.

Sia Huene stared at Sue as if seeing her for the first time.

“Who… are you?” he asked hoarsely.

Sue turned to face him.

For three years, she had worn masks.
Daughter. Substitute bride. Assistant. Poor girl.

She removed the last one.

“My name is Sue Shing,” she said clearly. “CEO of Chua Group.”

The room exploded.

“What?!”

“Chua Group?!”

“The global conglomerate?!”

She continued, unbothered.

“The marriage you thought was charity,” she said to Huene, “was survival. I hid because I needed to see who stood where when they thought I was nothing.”

Her gaze softened—just slightly.

“You failed that test.”

The words hit harder than any slap.

Huene’s mouth opened. Closed.

“I didn’t know,” he said finally. “If I had—”

“You still wouldn’t have chosen me,” she replied gently. “You choose what benefits you. That’s not love.”

She turned away.

“Divorce papers will be delivered today.”

Later.

Much later.

The city breathed again.

Sue stood on the rooftop of her company, night wind tangling her hair.