I Fell in Love with My Ex’s Billionaire Brother

Three years together, and Cloe Jones had always been treated with coldness inside her marriage. Even so, she kept insisting on George Davies, not because he deserved it, but because she remained trapped in the memories of the boy he had once been back in school. George was the kind of man every woman wanted: a football player, charismatic, full of dreams, and the heir of a rich and influential family, the Davies. He had always been involved with popular girls, confident girls, beautiful girls, the kind who naturally took up space wherever they went. Cloe had never been like that. She had always been the dedicated girl, the nerd who sat in the front row, who got the best grades, and whom everyone pointed to as someone destined for a brilliant future. And yet, somehow, their paths had crossed. On graduation night, everything spiraled out of control. Cloe did not clearly remember what had happened, only disconnected fragments, confusing sensations, and the weight of a decision that had not truly been a choice. The next morning, she woke up in bed beside George, and the scandal that could have destroyed his reputation was quickly smothered with an engagement. What began as a solution eventually turned, years later, into a marriage. A marriage that, from the outside, looked perfect, but inside was held together by silence, distance, and a growing emptiness that slowly consumed her. That day marked their third wedding anniversary, and still, no message came. Her phone remained silent, just as it had been doing more and more often. After waiting for hours, she decided to call the company, and the secretary’s answer was simple: George would be working late. The reply was dry, direct, and enough for Cloe to understand that, once again, there was no room for her. Even so, something inside her refused to accept that as normal. In one last effort to save whatever was still left, she decided to surprise him. She spent the entire day at the beauty salon, something she had not done in years. She took care of her hair, her skin, her nails, chose a new set of lingerie with care, and picked a dress that enhanced her body, making her feel, even if only for a few hours, like the woman she had once been. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she had trouble recognizing her own reflection. She looked beautiful, put together, alive in a way she had not felt in a very long time. It rekindled a silent hope inside her, fragile, but stubborn. When she arrived at the company, she noticed that the building was far too empty for someone who was supposedly working late. The silence in the corridors felt out of place, almost uncomfortable, but she kept walking, ignoring the strange feeling beginning to grow inside her chest. As she approached her husband’s office, sounds started to become noticeable. At first, they were low, hard to identify, but as she moved forward, they became clearer, more explicit, impossible to ignore. Cloe’s body reacted before her mind did. Her steps slowed, her breathing faltered, and her heart began to beat unevenly, as if trying to prepare her for something she still refused to accept. When she finally opened the door, the scene in front of her left no room for doubt. The secretary was on her knees before George, completely surrendered, while he watched her with a calmness that did not belong in that situation. There was no shock, no guilt, not even an attempt to hide what was happening. His gaze was cold, distant, as if Cloe’s presence there had no relevance at all. That was what hurt the most. Not the betrayal itself, but the indifference. Cloe felt the world around her collapse in silence. The words took too long to come out, trapped in her throat, too heavy to be said easily. When she finally managed to speak, her voice came out low, carried by a pain she could no longer hide. — So this is how you work? The secretary stood with a mocking smile, without a trace of shame, while George calmly fastened his pants, unhurried, as if he were dealing with something trivial. — What are you doing here, Cloe? I told you I would be busy. The way he spoke, without emotion, without concern, hit harder than anything else. — Today makes three years since we got married. I thought that meant something. The secretary laughed, and that sound echoed inside Cloe like a cruel confirmation of what she was already beginning to understand. Without thinking, she grabbed the first object she found and threw it toward them, unable to contain the mixture of rage and humiliation rising inside her. — Get out of here — George ordered, irritation finally appearing, but still far from anything resembling regret. Cloe moved toward him, driven by an impulse she could not control, but she was stopped when he grabbed her arm hard and shoved her against the wall. The impact was sharp, painful, enough to steal the air from her lungs. He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on hers, cold, hard, without a single trace of the man she had once believed she knew. — Do not act offended — he said in a controlled tone. — I married you because of that scandal. It was never love. You were never a choice. Every word was calculated, spoken with the intention to wound. — You were a problem I had to solve. And you still are. Cloe felt her chest tighten unbearably, as if something inside her was being crushed. — You may have changed over time, you may even look better now, but that does not change what you have always been. I never felt anything for you. I never felt desire, never felt interest. You are not the kind of woman I want by my side. She tried to hold his gaze, but her vision was already blurred. — I hate you — she said, her voice breaking, more to herself than to him. George laughed, a low, cold laugh filled with contempt. — Go home and do what you have always done: pretend everything is fine. If you want to keep living the life I gave you, you had better learn to ignore this kind of thing. When I get home, I expect to find my wife exactly where she has always been. That was the limit. Without thinking, Cloe raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed through the office, but it was not enough to change his expression. Still, she did not stay to see his reaction. She turned her back and left, feeling that with every step, something inside her was breaking for good. She entered the elevator, and this time, she could not hold back her tears. They came hard, uncontrollable, carrying everything she had endured for years. When she stepped out of the building, she did not look for the driver, did not want explanations, did not want to go back. She simply walked, without direction, guided by a pain too large to fit inside her anymore. When she reached the corner, the light changed, and for one instant, the idea of simply disappearing seemed like the only way to silence everything. She closed her eyes and took a step forward, but the harsh sound of brakes interrupted the movement. When she opened her eyes, a motorcycle had stopped just a few inches from her body. The man stared at her in irritation, assessing the situation. — Are you insane? Cloe did not answer. The tears kept falling, heavy, constant, and she no longer had the strength to hide anything. He watched her for a few seconds, his gaze shifting subtly, as if he understood more than he said. Then he sighed and held a helmet out to her. — Looks like you need to get out of here. Cloe hesitated, but when she looked back, she realized there was nothing waiting for her anymore. She climbed onto the motorcycle, still consumed by pain, not knowing exactly where she was going, but certain that there was no return to the life she had left behind.