The Billionaire's Forgotten Wife

PROLOGUE: The Storm of Betrayal The rhythmic, heavy downpour of the thunderstorm outside perfectly matched the erratic thumping inside Susan Hayes’ chest. Standing in the middle of the cold, marble-floored bathroom of the sprawling Sterling mansion, her hands shook violently. In her grasp was a small plastic stick. Two distinct, crimson lines stared back at her. Positive. A gasp escaped her lips, half in sheer terror and half in a sudden, overwhelming wave of hope. She was going to be a mother. For the past few months, her marriage to Victor Sterling had devolved into an icy wasteland. He treated her more like an invisible ghost than the woman he had sworn to love. But looking at the test, a tear of joy slipped down her pale cheek. Surely, this innocent life inside her would finally melt the ice in Victor’s heart. Hurriedly, Susan hid the stick inside the pocket of her cardigan as the heavy mahogany doors of her bedroom suddenly swung open. But it wasn't her loving husband who entered. It was a furious, lethal Victor Sterling. His dark eyes were filled with a terrifying, quiet menace that instantly froze the blood in Susan's veins. Behind him stood his secretary and childhood friend, Marian, wearing a mask of fake, exaggerated worry while her eyes gleamed with triumphant malice. "V-Victor... you're home early—" Susan started, her voice trembling. Before she could finish her sentence, Victor violently hurled a stack of glossy photographs directly at her face. The papers scattered across the floor, face up. Susan’s heart stopped. The photos clearly showed her, appearing to be fast asleep in a hotel bed, and right beside her was Dexter—the handsome young architect hired for their new estate—completely shirtless. "Victor... no, this is a lie! I swear to you, nothing happened!" Susan fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she tried to gather the photos. "I was set up! Please, just listen to me!" "I have seen enough, Susan!" Victor’s voice boomed through the room like a clap of thunder, shaking the very foundations of the mansion. "I gave you everything! I gave you my prestigious name, my wealth, and my trust! And you repay me by throwing yourself at a common employee?!" "Victor, please calm down, maybe Susan has an explanation..." Marian chimed in, her voice dripping with honeyed poison, though a sick, victorious smirk was plastered across her face. "There is nothing left to explain, Marian. I have already ruined Dexter's career; he will never hold a blueprint in this country again," Victor commanded with absolute, sub-zero coldness, looking down at Susan as if she were a piece of filth. He threw a set of legal documents onto the floor beside the photos. "Sign the divorce papers. And get out of my house. Right now." "Victor, please! It's dark outside, and there's a storm—" Susan sobbed, her fingers tightly gripping the positive pregnancy test hidden deep inside her pocket. Her heart was being physically crushed into dust. She looked at the man she loved more than life itself, searching for even a single shred of trust, but his face was an unyielding wall of stone. "If you are not gone in ten minutes, my security will throw you into the streets themselves," Victor muttered, turning his back on her without a hint of mercy. Clutching the secret life inside her womb, Susan slowly stood up. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, the raw agony in her chest suddenly hardening into something fierce, cold, and permanent. She looked at her husband’s ruthless back, and then at the mocking face of Marian. That night, Susan Hayes walked out of the Sterling empire into the blinding fury of the storm, carrying a silent, unbreakable vow: She would never cry for Victor Sterling again. And the next time he saw her face, she would be the one holding the power to destroy his entire world. CHAPTER 1: The afternoon sun was completely swallowed by the dark, bruised clouds rolling over the horizon, casting an ominous shadow across the sprawling, multi-million-dollar Sterling estate. Inside the master suite's massive walk-in closet, the atmosphere was just as suffocating. Susan Hayes stood in front of a rows-long display of bespoke Italian suits, her delicate fingers carefully smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on a charcoal-grey jacket. It was an expensive piece of fabric, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and cedar—the signature cologne of her husband, Victor Sterling. To the rest of the world, Susan was the luckiest woman alive. She was the envy of high society, a simple, gentle girl from a modest background who had captured the heart of the country’s most eligible, ruthless billionaire. They saw the diamond ring on her finger, the fleet of luxury cars at her disposal, and the grand mansion she called home. But they didn't see the truth. They didn't see that this beautiful mansion was nothing more than a golden cage, and that her marriage had slowly devolved into a freezing, silent wasteland over the past year. "Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to accompany us to the annual corporate gala tonight, Susan? The media has been practically begging for a glimpse of the elusive Mrs. Sterling." A voice, smooth and dripping with fabricated sweetness, shattered the heavy silence of the room. Susan didn't need to look back to know who it was. The sharp, deliberate click of six-inch stiletto heels against the polished hardwood floor announced her arrival. Marian Vance stepped into the closet, looking every bit the high-powered executive she was. Clad in a form-fitting, backless emerald-green cocktail dress that accentuated her sharp curves, Marian radiated power, confidence, and ownership. As the Chief Operating Officer of Sterling Holdings and Victor’s childhood friend from their days in the orphanage before Victor was adopted by the elite Sterling patriarch, Marian’s presence in the mansion was not just normal—it was invasive. She acted more like the true lady of the house than Susan ever could. Susan turned around, forcing a soft, polite smile onto her pale lips. Her hands instinctively sought comfort in the deep pockets of her oversized cream cardigan. "I'm sure, Marian. My head has been spinning since this morning, and I’ve been feeling terribly nauseous. Besides, you know how uncomfortable I get around the paparazzi and the judgment of the board members. Victor always prefers having you by his side during these high-profile business galas anyway. You understand the numbers; you actually have things to talk about with the foreign investors." Marian walked closer, her sharp, calculated eyes scanning Susan’s drawn face. She reached out, patting Susan’s hand with a warmth that felt entirely superficial. The coldness of her grip sent an involuntary shiver down Susan’s spine. "Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't talk about yourself like that. Victor just wants to shield you from the stress of the corporate world," Marian cooed, a dangerous, malicious glint dancing deep within her eyes. "But if you’re really feeling that unwell, I can always tell Victor to cancel our appearance tonight and stay here to take care of you. I can face the international clients alone. I don't mind the extra workload if it means keeping my favorite couple happy." "No! Please, don't do that," Susan quickly interjected, a wave of anxiety tightening in her throat. She knew how much Victor valued punctuality and professional success. "I know how crucial tonight's investor meeting is for the Palawan Eco-Tourism project. It's the biggest venture Sterling Holdings has launched this decade. I don't want to be the reason Victor’s grand plans are delayed or compromised. Go with him. I’ll just rest here and wait for him to return." "If you say so, Susan," Marian murmured softly. As Susan turned back toward the vanity table to arrange a set of luxury watches, the angelic smile on Marian’s face instantly vanished, replaced by an ugly, venomous sneer of raw jealousy. Marian glared at the glittering, multi-carat diamond ring on Susan’s finger, the priceless gold accents of the room, and the life of unadulterated luxury this woman enjoyed without ever lifting a finger in a boardroom. This should have been mine, Marian’s internal voice screamed with psychotic intensity. I was the one who stood by Victor when we were starving in the orphanage. I was the one who helped him build his empire from the ground up. You are just a nameless, penniless nobody who caught his eye during a moment of weakness. I will take back what belongs to me, Susan. And I will make sure you leave this house with absolutely nothing. Before Marian could dwell on her dark thoughts, the heavy mahogany doors of the suite swung open, and Victor Sterling walked in. He was the absolute epitome of masculine authority and lethal charm. Standing at a commanding six-foot-two, with a perfectly chiseled jawline, piercing dark eyes, and a cold aura that could bring the most powerful global executives to their knees, Victor was a king in his own right. But the moment his gaze shifted from Marian to his wife, his handsome face instantly hardened into a mask of pure frost. The warmth and adoration that used to fill his eyes whenever he looked at Susan during the first year of their marriage had completely evaporated, replaced by a distance that broke Susan's heart a little more each day. "Victor, you're back. Your things are laid out. Your pocket square and watch are right here," Susan said softly, stepping forward with a trembling heart, trying to play the part of the dutiful wife as she reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt. "Thanks," Victor muttered coldly, his voice devoid of any affection. He didn't wrap his arms around her waist. He didn't plant a soft kiss on her forehead like he used to do before every major event. His movements were mechanical, distant, and dead. He turned his gaze toward Marian, his features softening by a microscopic fraction. "Are we ready, Marian? The foreign investors from Singapore hate being kept waiting, and the traffic toward BGC will only get worse with the coming storm." "Always ready, Victor. The presentation is locked, and the legal team has finalized the preliminary terms," Marian chirped, letting out a soft, playful laugh that successfully cut through the heavy, suffocating tension that Susan carried. But just as they were about to step out of the bedroom, Marian suddenly paused at the threshold, clapping her hands together as if she had just remembered a minor, inconsequential detail. She turned back to look at Susan with a wide-eyed expression of pure innocence—a mask that hid a deadly, premeditated trap. "Oh, Victor... before I completely forget," Marian said, her voice echoing clearly in the vast room. "Dexter called my personal office this afternoon. You know, the new brilliant architect we hired for the construction of your private Tagaytay resthouse?" Victor stopped adjusting his platinum cufflinks, his dark brows knitting together in a sharp frown. "What about Dexter? Why did he call your personal line instead of reaching out to my executive secretary?" "Well, because I was helping him sort out the zoning blueprints and environmental permits yesterday," Marian explained smoothly, shooting a subtle, calculating glance at Susan, watching for any reaction. "He mentioned that he urgently needs some minor structural permits signed tonight so the construction crew can begin the heavy excavation early tomorrow morning. Since you have that incredibly tight schedule and an early flight to Cebu tomorrow, I told him to just drop by the mansion tonight and have Susan sign them on your behalf." The temperature in the master suite instantly dropped to sub-zero. Victor’s jaw clenched so hard that a distinct vein began to throb violently on his temple. His dark eyes flicked over to Susan, burning with a dangerous, quiet intensity. "He’s coming here? To my private residence? At night? While I am away at a gala?" "Oh my god, Victor, I'm so sorry! Was that a terrible mistake on my part?" Marian gasped, putting her manicured hands over her mouth in mock horror. Her heart was leaping with a sick, dark joy as she watched the potent poison of doubt infect Victor’s mind. "Dexter insisted it was an absolute emergency for the timeline. I thought it would be completely fine since you trusted him with the project. And since Susan would be home alone anyway... I am so, so sorry, Victor. If I had known you'd be uncomfortable with another man being alone with your wife in the evening, I would have just let the project be delayed by a few weeks." Susan felt a sudden, cold dread pool in the depths of her stomach. The sheer malice behind Marian's words was palpable, but she was too caught off guard to fully defend herself. "Victor... I—I didn't know anything about this. I didn't ask him to come..." Victor didn't look at Susan's pleading eyes. For the past few weeks, his phone had been plagued by anonymous tips, vague texts, and carefully cropped photos hinting at his wife's "unusual closeness" with the handsome young architect. He had tried to dismiss them as corporate sabotage, but Marian's subtle, daily whispers about Susan's "loneliness" and "need for companionship" had slowly eroded his trust. And now, hearing that the man was coming to his home under the guise of an emergency arranged behind his back, the beast of jealousy reared its ugly head. "Have him sign the documents in the library, Susan," Victor commanded, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, quiet menace that made her blood run cold. "And make sure you keep the double doors wide open. I don't tolerate trash hovering around the private quarters of my home while I am building this empire. Do you understand me?" "Y-Yes, Victor. I'll have the house staff serve him tea in the library. We will only discuss the permits," she whispered, her heart cracking at the absolute lack of faith in his deep voice. "Good. Let’s go, Marian," Victor snapped, turning on his heel and walking out of the suite without giving his wife a single backward glance. As Marian walked out behind him, she paused at the threshold for a fraction of a second. She turned her head to look at Susan, and the holy mask finally slipped entirely. A twisted, mocking, and deeply victorious smirk plastered Marian’s face. It was the look of a executioner watching the noose tighten around the victim's neck. The heavy silence of the massive mansion swallowed Susan whole as the front doors downstairs slammed shut, followed by the distant roar of Victor’s sports car speeding away. Hours passed like agonizing tortures. The storm outside finally broke, unleashing a torrential downpour that lashed violently against the grand glass windows of the estate. Susan sat in the cavernous, dimly lit library, her head thumping with a blinding migraine. The nausea she had felt earlier had returned tenfold, making her stomach churn uncomfortably. She leaned her head against the cool leather of the sofa, trying to breathe through the overwhelming wave of exhaustion that threatened to pull her under. At exactly eight o'clock in the evening, the estate’s elderly head housekeeper, Aling Ising, entered the library with a apologetic bow. "Madam Susan, Architect Dexter is here. He says he has the urgent permits that Miss Marian asked him to bring." "Thank you, Aling Ising. Please show him in," Susan said, forcing herself to sit up straight and presentable. "And please, bring us a tray of hot tea and some light refreshments. My head is splitting, and I want to get this sorted out as quickly as possible." A minute later, Dexter entered the room. He was a young, sharp-looking man with a humble demeanor, carrying a thick leather folder packed with blueprints and legal documents. He bowed respectfully toward Susan. "Good evening, Mrs. Sterling. I am incredibly sorry for disturbing you at such an ungodly hour, especially during a storm like this. But Miss Marian called my office earlier and stressed that these permits must be signed by tonight, or Mr. Sterling would penalize my firm for delaying the project excavation tomorrow morning." Susan’s brows knitted together in deep confusion. Marian called him? Marian had told Victor that Dexter was the one who insisted on the emergency meeting. But before Susan could deeply analyze the glaring contradiction, a sudden, sharp pain flared in her abdomen, causing her to gasp silently. "Please, have a seat, Dexter. Let's just look over the documents so you can leave before the roads flood," Susan said, her voice slightly strained as she gestured to the empty chair across the massive mahogany desk. Dexter quickly laid out the blueprints and the zoning permits, pointing to the sections that required Victor’s spousal authorization. As Susan leaned forward to read the fine print, Aling Ising entered the library carrying a silver tray with a pot of steaming chamomile tea and two porcelain cups. But before the elderly housekeeper could place the tray on the table, the heavy walkie-talkie clipped to her apron blared loudly with panic. "Aling Ising! Come to the main kitchen immediately! The main water pipe just burst under the sink, and the entire floor is flooding! We need the main valve shut off now!" Aling Ising panicked, almost dropping the tray. "Oh dear Lord... Madam Susan, I am so sorry—" "Go, Aling Ising! Go handle the kitchen before the water ruins the hardwood floor," Susan urged quickly, taking the heavy silver tray from the old woman’s trembling hands. "I can pour the tea myself. Go help the staff." "Thank you, Madam!" Aling Ising cried out, scurrying out of the library as fast as her old legs could carry her, completely forgetting Victor's strict command to keep the library doors wide open. In her haste, the heavy mahogany doors swung shut, clicking firmly into place. Neither Susan nor Dexter noticed the closed doors. Outside, hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway, a young maid—one whose sick mother’s medical bills had been mysteriously and fully paid by Marian Vance earlier that week—stood silently. She held a smartphone in her hand, her thumb hovering over the screen, waiting for the perfect, calculated second to send a encrypted text message. Inside the library, the air grew increasingly heavy. Susan picked up the porcelain teapot to pour a cup, but as she did, a massive, violent wave of dizziness hit her. The entire room spun on a wild axis. The heavy silver teapot slipped from her weak fingers, crashing against the edge of the table and spilling the scalding hot chamomile tea directly onto Dexter’s chest and arms. "Ah!" Dexter gasped in pain as the boiling liquid soaked through his white linen polo shirt, burning his skin. "Oh my god, Dexter! I am so sorry! I’m so dizzy—" Susan tried to stand up to help him, but her legs completely gave out beneath her. The world went totally black, and her body collapsed forward into absolute unconsciousness. "Mrs. Sterling!" Dexter cried out in sheer panic. Forgetting his own burning pain, Dexter rushed around the desk to catch her before her head could smash against the sharp edge of the mahogany table. He managed to scoop her limp body into his arms, lifting her up and carefully laying her down on the long leather sofa. Susan was completely unresponsive, her face deathly pale and her breathing shallow. Panicked, and with his own chest blistered and stinging from the hot tea, Dexter frantically ripped off his wet, tea-soaked polo shirt to prevent further burns to his own skin. He knelt beside the sofa, his bare chest exposed, as he lifted Susan’s head with one hand, desperately trying to wake her up. "Mrs. Sterling! Susan! Please wake up! Can you hear me?!" In that exact, fatal second, the heavy mahogany doors of the library were violently thrown open, crashing against the walls with a force that sounded like a bomb going off. "Susan!!!" The roar that echoed through the room didn't sound human. It was a primal, murderous sound that shook the very foundations of the Sterling estate. Susan’s eyes snapped open, the violent shock of that voice forcefully dragging her back from the darkness of her faint. Her vision was still blurry, her head spinning wildly, but as her sight slowly focused, her heart instantly stopped in absolute terror. Standing at the entrance of the library was Victor Sterling. His expensive trench coat was dripping with rainwater, his face contorted into a mask of pure, demonic rage that she had never seen before in her life. The annual gala had been abruptly postponed due to a massive power outage at the venue, causing him to return home early. Or rather, he had been lured back by an anonymous text message sent by the maid outside, stating that his wife and the architect had locked themselves in the library for an "intimate meeting." And the sight that confronted Victor was the ultimate, undeniable confirmation of his darkest nightmares: His wife, laid out on the leather sofa, and a completely shirtless Dexter kneeling directly over her, holding her body in a tight, desperate embrace. "K-Kevin... I mean, Victor..." Susan stammered, her voice a fragile, terrified whisper as she tried to push herself up, her hand instinctively clutching her stomach as a sharp, agonizing cramp flared within her. "It's... it's not what it looks like..." But the trap had already snapped shut, and the executioner was ready to drop the blade.