Billionaire's Bride

Betrayal

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“Janette, you’re fully aware of the circumstances under which we got married,” Asher began, his tone sharp as a blade. The moment that woman—Regina—left the room, his entire demeanor shifted. Hands buried in his pockets, his eyes bore into her with an unfathomable intensity.

She couldn’t deny the obvious—Asher Norman was dangerously attractive. But beneath that exterior lay a heart as cold as ice.

“Your father practically sold you to me,” he continued, the words like a cruel whip crack in the air. “So don’t expect anything from this marriage.” He paused, letting his words sink in, but Janette’s world had already begun to crumble beneath her feet.

Robert Stark doesn’t care about me, she thought, a chill coursing through her veins. He shattered her dreams, ripped her away from the only people who truly loved her, the ones who would never betray her. She felt like she’d been struck down, betrayed on a level she never imagined possible. She never let herself cry, but now, staring at the cruel reality of her world, she realized the truth—she could trust no one.

If her own father was capable of this, what hope did she have with a stranger who stood before her, dripping with arrogance? And now, doubts were creeping in—were those even her real parents? Asher’s voice kept going, but she was lost in her thoughts, her mind numb with disbelief and anger.

“Janette!” His voice cut through the fog, his hand gripping her shoulders, shaking her back to the present. His eyes were still on her, with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher—compassion? She couldn’t let herself believe that.

“Yes, I’m listening,” she snapped, slapping his hands away and stepping back to put space between them. “Don’t touch me.”

“Fine,” he said coldly, his face hardening. “But let’s get one thing straight. Regina is a very important part of my life, so I expect you to be sensible. I’m trying to be polite here, but this is my house, and everything in it belongs to me. If you want to live here, you follow my rules.”

Her world felt like it was collapsing, the weight of his words pressing down on her until she could barely breathe. She lowered her gaze, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She didn’t want him to see the weakness, didn’t want him to know that he was breaking her down piece by piece.

Asher watched her, his usual icy demeanor faltering for a moment. He was known for being ruthless, a man who never showed an ounce of empathy. Yet, seeing the pale, defeated woman before him—the one who was now his wife—made him pause. He kept his expression indifferent, but doubt gnawed at him.

He wanted to see her suffer, didn’t he? That’s what he told himself. But now, a small part of him wondered if she wasn’t the true cause of his misery—maybe it was her father who deserved all his contempt.

Shouldn’t she be happy? he thought bitterly. Married to the most desirable man in the city? But her eyes were vacant, devoid of any light or life. She looked like a broken doll, standing there staring at the ground, and it twisted something in his chest he hadn’t felt in years. Guilt. Fragility.

She’s going to be trouble, he thought, almost tasting the bitterness of the words. She had barely set foot in his house, yet her presence was already unsettling him in ways he couldn’t understand.

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