The Betrayed Heiress: Marrying His Billionaire Rival

"Darling, I have a surprise for you..." The words died on Adaline Henry's lips.

Through the crack in the heavy oak door of the office, Adaline Henry saw her husband, Damarion Nixon, intimately embracing a woman with fiery red hair, Breanna Lyons-her sister. Her hands were tangled in his hair, their lips pressed tightly together, kissing so deeply it was as if they meant to crush each other. She was leaning against his mahogany desk, her suit jacket tossed aside.

"When are you going to dump that bitch and marry me, so we can be together openly instead of sneaking around?" Breanna Lyons asked in a honeyed voice.

"Soon. Once I've truly devoured her family's company and stripped her of any real power, she'll have no use left." Damarion Nixon's words sounded as if he could no longer hold back, thick with desire, not at all like his usual cold, restrained self. He pulled the woman over, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her again, the two of them ready to ignite like dry tinder.

Adaline tightened her grip on the navy-blue gift box in her hand. It was supposed to be a gift for her husband. She had even thought that if he was willing, they could have a child-a child who, from the moment it was born, would be the most legitimate heir to the family company. But now Damarion Nixon was slandering his own wife behind her back. He did not deserve her.

Adaline remained silent, listening to the increasingly loud, saccharine sounds inside, a mocking smile appearing at the corners of her mouth.

"Aren't you afraid she'll find out first that our marriage certificate is fake? And about us?" the woman asked in a seductive voice.

"That woman is so dizzy from my sweet talk every day, how would she find out?" Damarion sneered.

If what they said was true, and the marriage was fake, then what were all these years of romance? she thought.

A few minutes earlier, Adaline had stepped out of a black sedan onto a sunlit Manhattan street, sunlight gleaming on her honey-gold hair. In her hand was a gift box from a high-end tailor on Fifth Avenue, and a gentle, expectant smile lingered on her lips. Inside was a custom silk tie, as blue as her eyes-a private little romantic joke between them.

She walked lightly into the gleaming lobby of Nixon & Associates, a subsidiary Damarion managed under her family's company, Henry Holdings.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Nixon," the receptionist greeted her warmly.

"Is he in a meeting?" Adaline asked softly.

"He left instructions not to be disturbed, but that naturally doesn't apply to you," the receptionist said, opening the security door for her with a respectful smile.

The rules don't apply to you. She could not tell whether the receptionist was taking the opportunity to mock her for not knowing her place, or whether everything had already been predestined.

The voices inside continued. "Soon, Bree. Just a little longer. The Montgomery deal is the last piece of the puzzle. Once it's done, everything in Henry Holdings will be within our grasp."

Within our grasp.

Adaline's smile grew wider. Feeling provoked, she pushed open the door, which had been ajar all along.

All sound inside ceased abruptly. The instant Damarion saw Adaline, he froze.

Breanna, meanwhile, deliberately slid her hand down Damarion's chest and adjusted his shirt, as if staking her claim.

"Adaline... darling, what are you doing here? This isn't what it looks like," Damarion stammered, walking toward her. His face wore a mask of feigned concern-a performance she had seen a thousand times, but only now did she truly see it clearly.

Adaline abruptly, involuntarily took a step back, as if his very presence was physically repulsive. Her once warm lake-blue eyes were now cold, shattered fragments.

"Don't," she said, her voice carrying an icy, mocking detachment. "I've interrupted you. Please, continue."

Her gaze moved past him and landed on several documents scattered across his desk. On one of them, her own signature was clearly visible-a power of attorney she vaguely remembered signing last month. He had told her it was just a formality.

Beside it was a bank statement for her personal trust fund, an account she had barely looked at for years because she trusted him completely.

At the bottom of the statement, a line of bold red text caught her eye and seared itself into her mind: ACCOUNT CLOSED-BALANCE ZERO.

Nausea rose in her throat. This betrayal was not merely emotional. It was total. He had been systematically hollowing her out, gutting her from the inside.

She tore her gaze from the documents and looked at his face, truly seeing the stranger before her for the first time. The man she had loved did not exist. He never had.

Breanna let out a tiny, almost inaudible sigh of satisfaction. "Mm, caught us," she murmured, not even trying to hide her smugness.

Damarion shot Breanna a vicious glare, then turned to face Adaline, his expression softening into deep, theatrical pain. "Darling, how much did you just hear? Let me explain. That woman forced me into this. It's all a misunderstanding."

The lie was so blatant, so insulting. This man had counted on Adaline's love for him, scheming every step.

She turned her back on him, her posture straight, still the epitome of old-world aristocratic elegance even in humiliation. Her high heels clicked deliberately and sharply on the floor as she walked toward the door.

"Adaline, wait!" Damarion called after her, his voice full of desperation-desperation, she realized, not for her, but for his now precarious plan.

She did not stop, nor did she look back. She pulled open the door and walked out, then slammed it shut behind her, leaving the two cheaters behind.