The Billionaire's Revenge on His Fallen Heiress

EVERLY’S POV It had been exactly three weeks since Kian Sterling, the love of my life, married me, and every single day felt like a living nightmare. The life I’d pictured had been traded for a houseful of strangers and a husband who looked at me like I was a huge problem. Kian was already at the breakfast table when I stepped out of my room. The table was a huge oak slab that could easily seat twelve people, but it only held two settings. One at the head, where he sat. One at the far end, where I'd eaten every meal since he'd brought me here. He didn't look up when I entered. His attention was fixed on the newspaper in his hands, the pages crisp and white, his coffee steaming beside his plate. He wore a charcoal suit jacket over a perfectly pressed white shirt, no tie, the top button undone. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe he was the same person. I'd believed marrying him would finally give us the future we'd been robbed of ten years ago, but now, I no longer knew if that was the case. I took a breath. Then another. And then I stepped forward, crossing the cold marble floor until I stood before his chair. He still didn't look up. The silence in the room was heavy and suffocating. Finally, he folded his newspaper and set it aside. He took a slow sip of his coffee, and finally, his stormy gray eyes lifted to meet mine. The warmth I used to see in them was completely gone. "Today, if you want breakfast," he said, his voice calm and controlled. "Beg for it." My stomach sank. The words landed like stones in my chest. "I don't understand," I whispered, my hands curling into fists at my sides. His smile was thin and razor-sharp. "I once had to beg your family. Today, you'll do the same." "You can't be serious." "I'm always serious, Everly." "What happened to you?" I demanded, my voice cracking. He didn't respond. The boy who used to sneak me into the estate's wine cellar and kiss me until my knees buckled was entirely gone I lowered my gaze to the floor, swallowing the bitter taste of my own dignity. "I beg you to let me eat today." "That's it?" His voice carried a hint of mockery. "That's your best effort?" I didn't answer. The harsh scrape of his chair echoed through the quiet room. He stood up and walked over until his black shoes appeared in my view. He smelled of expensive cologne now—nothing like the cheap soap and boiler grease he used to smell of. I still didn't look up. “Kneel”, He roared My jaw ached from clenching it so hard. I could refuse. I could starve. But with the cold stranger before me, I knew he would let me. Slowly, my knees hit the freezing marble floor. I lifted my chin, forcing myself to look at him. Something flickered in his eyes. It vanished before I could decide whether I'd imagined it. "I beg you," I said, my voice shaking. "Let me eat today." I could feel the weight of his stare, the heat of his presence just inches away. Then, he gave a single, curt nod. "Go to the kitchen." I rose without a word, my knees aching and my pride completely shattered. I walked past the silent staff who pretended not to see me, grabbed a covered plate from the counter, and sat at the absolute far end of the long table. I stared down at the food, but my throat felt too tight to swallow. I stole glances at him. He looked perfect– the sharp jawline, dark hair that curled slightly at the temples, and his long eyelashes, the ones I used to wish I had, the ones I used to kiss when he lay on the grass with me. My father had warned that an heiress shouldn’t be found in dirty places, but I hadn't cared. I was happy that he was now successful. Even if he had bought my family's entire empire, and our lives had swapped, I didn't care. Maybe this is all just a mask, I thought. "Kian," I said, my voice barely a whisper in the massive room. "Do you remember the first time when you told me to lay on the grass with you?" I asked, forcing a fragile smile, desperate to pull him back to the days we were in love. "I thought it was dirty, but then you pulled me down before I could think. You were laughing so hard and I was so angry I swore I'd have my father fire you on the spot." A soft, sad laugh escaped my throat. The silence that followed was suffocating. He didn't look up from his paper. I stared at his face, searching for anything. There was nothing. Didn’t he hear me? Before I could even find my voice, the heavy double doors of the dining room swung open. “Sir,” Derek, Kian’s assistant, said quickly. “Miss Chloe is here.” Kian’s hand stopped halfway to his coffee. The coldness I’d been staring at for three weeks disappeared immediately. “Bring her in,” he said. His voice… it wasn’t the voice he’d used on me. I gripped my fork harder. He had made me kneel. He had made me beg. But for this “Chloe,” he became a completely different man. The doors opened wide, and a beautiful, petite brunette stepped into the room. She wore a stunning designer dress, and her hair was perfectly styled. She didn't look like a guest; she looked like she owned the place. "Kian!" Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. Kian stood up. I had never seen him move that quickly. She leaned closer to him, and he didn’t pull away. I sat frozen at the far end of the table, feeling like an unwanted ghost at my own husband’s breakfast.