The Price Of Her Betrayal And My Billionaire Protector

Summary

Five years. My wedding band hadn't left my finger since the day I put it on, yet on the morning of our anniversary, I found a silk men's tie—not mine—tucked into the passenger seat of Bianca’s car.

“Oh, that,” she said, dismissively waving a hand. “My new junior associate must have left it when we were running accounts yesterday.”

That night, for our intimate anniversary dinner, she brought the associate. Chase. She insisted he sit right beside her. “I haven’t been feeling well recently,” she murmured, her voice laced with manufactured frailty.