Billionaire's Bride

Second choice

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We exist in memories, and nothing more.

After changing into an oversized shirt dress and a pair of pristine shoes—handpicked by her meticulous husband—Janette trailed behind Asher as he led the way. His orders were as sharp as the heels of his polished shoes.

Why does he keep ordering everyone around? she thought bitterly.

Because it’s his house, the voice in her head countered, laced with sarcasm.

The estate was stunning, she couldn’t deny that. They passed by a beautifully manicured flower yard, the scent of jasmine and roses filling the air. To the right, a lineup of luxury cars gleamed under the soft evening sun. Every color, every model imaginable.

Why does one man need so many cars? she mused, rolling her eyes. Another billionaire with too much money and too little sense.

After what felt like ten minutes of silence and stiff walking, she accidentally bumped into his back when he abruptly stopped.

“Sorry,” she muttered, irritation threading through her voice. He glanced back at her, rolling his eyes.

“Why can’t you watch where you’re going?” he muttered with that familiar, cold disdain.

Janette bristled. It should be her speaking to him like that. He was the one who had snatched her freedom, who had thrown her into this nightmare. Who gave Asher Norman the right to talk to her like she was some nuisance?

“What do you expect, Mr. Norman?” she shot back, her voice tight with fury. “Why don’t you install some benches in this oversized mansion of yours?”

“I don’t have any issue walking in my yard. Why would you?” he replied smoothly. He reached for a sanitizer dispenser mounted by the door.

Of course, she thought. The door only opens after you clean your hands. Perfect for a control freak.

She was about to explode. This man needs help, she thought. A one-way trip to a mental asylum. Asher rubbed the sanitizer on his hands, then placed them on the door sensor. She mimicked his actions, rolling her eyes.

When the door swung open, she was taken aback. The interior was stunning—a blend of luxury and cold precision. Golden chandeliers dangled from high ceilings, casting a warm glow on polished wooden floors. The walls were adorned with elegant wallpaper that seemed to shimmer with every step. For a moment, she was almost lost in admiration. It was clear now why he demanded everything be spotless; this was his palace.

Her awe was cut short by a sultry, unfamiliar voice dripping with affection. “You’re back, darling.”

Janette’s eyes snapped toward the source of the voice—a woman barely dressed in anything that could be considered clothing. Before Janette could blink, the woman was all over her husband, pressing her lips to his. And he kissed her back.

What. The. Hell.

A sharp pang hit her chest—not out of love, but pure disgust. Hours after the wedding? Really?

The kiss deepened, turning more passionate, more intimate. Fury boiled in Janette’s veins. She cleared her throat, a loud, forced cough that echoed through the lavish hall.

The woman turned, glaring daggers at her, and Janette returned the glare, her arms crossing over her chest as she locked eyes with Asher. She could see his irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

“Asher Norman,” she announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “care to explain what I’m seeing?”

His glare was a silent warning, but she didn’t care.

“Who is she, love?” the woman purred, clinging to him.

“She’s Mrs. Norman,” Asher replied, as if stating the obvious.

Janette’s heart twisted. Not because she cared for him, but because of the sheer audacity of it all. Mrs. Norman? That title felt like a brand burned into her skin. She didn’t miss the flicker of hurt that crossed the woman’s face before she masked it with a venomous smile.

“You married her?” the woman asked incredulously.

Asher nodded, cool and unbothered. To him, this seemed like just another mundane conversation. The nerve of this man.

“What about us?” the woman pressed, her voice wavering between desperation and anger.

“What about us, Regina?” he replied, his tone calm, almost bored. “We’ll continue as we were. This marriage won’t affect our relationship.”

Janette felt a wave of nausea. Mistresses, too? She wasn’t even in the conversation anymore, just an accessory to his twisted games.

“Could you give us a moment, dear?” Asher said to Regina, his voice softening with affection. “Wait for me in our room.”

Our room. The words echoed in Janette’s mind. Why the hell did he marry me if he already has someone? She watched Regina saunter over to her, her eyes cold and hostile.

“Listen, Ms. Whatever-Your-Name-Is,” Regina hissed, her face inches from Janette’s, “just remember one thing: Asher is mine and always will be. You’ll always be his second choice.”

Janette wanted to slap the smugness right off her face. If her life had been different—if she hadn’t already been through hell and back—she might have. But right now, she was barely holding herself together. She felt the weight of her circumstances press down on her shoulders—her parents’ absence, an arranged marriage, and now this egotistical, controlling husband.

Her life wasn’t hers anymore. It was his.

But not for long, she vowed silently. Not for long.

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