The Betrayed Heiress: Marrying His Billionaire Rival

An hour later, Adaline heard the front door open downstairs. Not a slam. Soft, measured footsteps climbed the stairs. A light knock on the bedroom door. Damarion.

She didn't move from her position by the window. She took a slow, steadying breath, schooling her features into a mask of cold indifference.

The door opened. Damarion stood there, his face carefully arranged into an expression of concern and tenderness. The charming husband mask was back in place. He held a small bouquet of white roses, her favorite.

"Darling," he said softly, closing the door behind him. "I got your message. I came as soon as I could. Are you all right?"

Adaline turned slowly to face him.

"I'm fine."

He set the roses on the dresser and approached her slowly, as if she were something fragile.

"Adaline, please. I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But firing Sharon... that wasn't like you. Talk to me."

"Talk to you?" she said, her voice flat. "Like you talked to Breanna?"

His expression flickered, but he recovered quickly. He reached for her hands.

"Darling, that was a mistake. A terrible mistake. She threw herself at me. I was weak. It meant nothing."

"And my trust fund?" she asked, her voice flat. "Did that throw itself at you, too?"

He had an answer for that, too.

"An investment," he said smoothly. "A high-risk, high-reward venture that didn't pan out. I was going to tell you. I was going to make it all back before you ever knew."

He moved closer, trying to take her hands.

"Adaline, you have to believe me. Everything I do is for us."

She pulled her hands away as if from a snake.

"Don't touch me."

Seeing her resolve, he changed tactics again, appealing to their public image.

"Fine. Be angry. You have every right. But we have the Children's Hope Foundation gala tonight. We are co-chairs. We cannot show a divided front."

The gala. An event for a charity he championed, one he convinced her to pour millions into. The irony was suffocating. Her first instinct was to refuse. But then a cold, calculating thought surfaced. Refusing was what he expected. Compliance was more dangerous.

"Fine," she said, her voice clipped. "I'll go. For the foundation."

Relief flooded his features. He thought he'd won.

"Thank you, darling. Wear the emerald gown," he said, already directing her, putting her back in her box.

Later, as Adaline got ready, the emerald dress felt like armor. The diamonds around her neck felt like ice. At the gala at The Plaza, they were the picture of a perfect power couple. During his speech, he praised her generosity.

"My beautiful wife, Adaline, whose heart is as vast as her fortune..."

The hypocrisy made her want to scream.

After the speech, he guided her to a quiet corner.

"Darling, I have an idea," he said, his eyes shining with false sincerity. "The foundation has a new sponsorship program. We could sponsor a child directly. A little boy. It would be a wonderful way for us to... reconnect."

He showed her a picture on his phone. A little boy with light brown hair and familiar hazel eyes. He was about two years old.

A chill ran down Adaline's spine. The boy looked... familiar. He looked like Damarion.

"He's an orphan," Damarion said softly. "His mother is unable to care for him. He needs a family."

Adaline stared at the photo. Her money, funneled to support... who? A horrifying suspicion began to form. The timing. The look in the boy's eyes.

"What's his name?" Adaline asked, a cold, mocking smile curling her lips, as if she were watching a clown perform.

"Cody," Damarion said with a benevolent smile. "Let's give him a future, Adaline. Together."