The Billionaire Wife He Betrayed

Southport socialite Serenity Brooks had brought a billion-dollar dowry into her marriage, and that fortune had transformed her husband, Bowen Reed, into a documentary vlogger of the highest caliber. For five years of marriage, he had loved her fiercely. He was married to his craft, avoided social scenes like the plague, and barely glanced at the luxury surrounding him. Then came that fifth winter, when he quietly siphoned off a billion from their shared account. By the time Serenity noticed, his explosive vlog was already trending nationwide. It was called Life After Winning the Lottery: A Thirty-Year-Old Divorced Woman's Journey. Serenity had always been slow on the uptake. But even she could not mistake the icy plunge in her chest when she saw his fingers disappear beneath Jade Cooper's diamond-studded lace panties. Those five-figure designer scraps barely covered anything. His throat worked silently, and that dark, unspoken craving in his gaze made her stomach twist. The fish tank exploded as Serenity hurled a vase across the room. Bowen whirled around, panic flashing across his face before his voice turned razor-sharp. "Serenity. I am working." "Working?" She advanced on him, her finger jabbing at his guilty hand. "Since when is fingering her panties part of your job description?" He recoiled like he had been burned, his cheeks flaming. "The waistband was riding low. It would have shown certain things. You know I am meticulous about documentary details." "Bullshit." Her laugh was brittle and sharp. "This isn't a documentary. It is straight-up softcore." Jade's face drained of all color. "That is vulgar," she whispered. "Mr. Reed is the most professional creator I know." "Oh, real professional," Serenity cut in, her voice dripping with acid. "Adjusting her pubic hair for the camera is professional now?" With a sharp kick, she toppled a tripod. "Scrap this series, Bowen. I will get you Professor Dylan Gray from the Aldridge Institute for Advanced Study. He is the scientist you have been begging to interview." His eyes darted away for just a second before he reached into his jacket. The divorce papers fluttered between them, the terms screaming in bold print that he would walk away penniless. "Now?" Her voice cracked. "You are divorcing me?" "Just pretend," he said, forcing a laugh. "We need marriage license footage with Jade. Look, I drafted this to reassure you. We file online today, and the papers are finalized in seven days." "And then?" Her nails bit into her palms. "Obviously, I will divorce her and remarry you immediately." Her heart froze solid. "No." All those years, suitors had lined up around the block. Yet she had chosen this rebellious loner who had stolen her heart. She had handed him her flawless reputation, and even their secret wedding had been her idea. She had loved his brilliance so fiercely that she had tamed her wild heart to become the invisible wife in his shadow. How dare he treat her like dirt. Bowen ignored her, fidgeting as he checked his watch and peered out the window. Then he snapped impatiently, "The ten a.m. sunlight makes those diamond panties sparkle like crazy. Jade, move it. This shot has to be perfect." He barked at the crew, "Lights. Camera. Are we rolling or not?" Serenity stood forgotten behind him, her rage and grief as invisible as she had always been. She hurled the divorce papers at his back. "Bowen. I said no. Shut this down right now." He froze mid-step, glanced at his watch, and saw that it was nine fifty-five. Then he turned, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "Serenity, I have put up with your whims before, but not today." In one swift motion, he grabbed a cable and lashed her wrists and ankles together. "Have you lost your damn mind?" Serenity thrashed against him, shrieking like a wild animal. "Silence. You are contaminating the audio." His eyes turned glacial as he slapped duct tape over her mouth. A woman who had always been worshipped now lay bound and gagged like discarded trash. Tears burned in her eyes as she launched herself at him, only for him to slam her backward. There was a sickening crash as her body hit the broken fish tank. Glass shards bit into her flesh, and the pain was white-hot as she folded into herself. Blood pooled beneath her, and tears streamed down her face, but no one glanced her way. Bowen adjusted the lens and scowled at the test footage. Then he prowled over to Jade and tucked a stray hair behind her ear before palming her rear without shame. "Tilt your chin. Arch higher. Camera. Tighten on the money shot." He micromanaged every detail, the equipment, the lighting, Jade's body, but he never once looked at his wife. On the floor, two goldfish gasped their last breaths, their tails fluttering weakly. Their glassy eyes reflected Bowen's broad back. Even now, a decade into their marriage, he worked with the same obsessive focus. Serenity remembered the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through their old neighborhood on Maple Street. She remembered the blizzard where he had stalked a street sweeper for four hours, his camera glued to his frozen hands. His nose had been cherry red, but the passion in his eyes could have melted the snow. Two months later, Orange Shadows in Snow had won Vlogger of the Year. The world had applauded, while he remained a nobody. And like a fool, she had walked straight into his arms. Their wedding had been a private overseas affair, witnessed only by their parents. Her ten-billion-dollar dowry had fueled his meteoric rise to stardom. For five years of marriage, she had witnessed every shade of his love. That was how she knew that hungry look he gave Jade was not innocent. He had broken their vows. Calmer now, Serenity stopped struggling. Her empty stare locked onto the gasping goldfish twitching its final moments on the blood-streaked tiles. Two hours later, Bowen finished filming and knelt before her. His face was a mask of poorly feigned remorse. "Serenity, I never meant for things to get this out of hand," he fumbled, the apology sticking in his throat as his trembling fingers worked at the cords. She shoved him away and rubbed circulation back into her rope-burned wrists. Then she seized the pen with shaking fingers. "Fine," she said flatly. "If this sham divorce helps your little project, let us just do it." His face brightened with pathetic hope. "Really?" Oh, it was happening all right. Just not the fake part. The unspoken truth burned her tongue like acid as she forced a smile.