Burned His Ten Million For A Fake Baby

"Sign the final page, Mrs. Mercer, and the ten million is wired to Julian's corporate account."

Mr. Garris tapped his gold pen against the mahogany desk.

"You understand the terms?" The banker leaned forward, his tone grave. "This uses your parents' estate as collateral. You are liquidating your personal stock portfolio. If his tech firm defaults, the bank takes everything. You assume the debt for the rest of your life."

"I understand." I met his gaze without blinking.

My fingers trembled. I had not slept in three days. I had run through every legal hoop, every financial hurdle, burning myself out to secure this lifeline.

"Julian's life work won't fail." I tightened my grip on the desk edge. "He just needs a bridge to cross this gap."

"It is a massive risk."

"I am his wife. I protect him."

I dragged the pen across the dotted line. Elara Mercer.

Every mutual fund, every piece of jewelry I owned, and the house I grew up in—traded for a single manila folder.

Julian’s company had suffered a fatal cash flow break last Tuesday. His investors vanished overnight. His industry friends stopped returning his texts.

He had sobbed in my arms, a broken man staring down bankruptcy and fraud charges.

I refused to let him drown.

The taxi dropped me off in front of our townhouse an hour later.

My head pounded with a dull, rhythmic ache.

I clutched the folder against my chest. The paper felt heavier than concrete, but relief washed over my exhausted body.

"We're safe, Julian." I spoke the words to the empty porch.

I pushed the front door.

It swung open easily. Julian had forgotten to set the deadbolt again.

The foyer was dark. A faint light spilled from the top of the stairs.

Then I heard the noise.

A wet, slapping sound echoed down the hallway.

"Fuck, Julian. Right there."

The woman's voice was high, breathless, completely unfamiliar.

My stomach bottomed out.

I stopped dead on the bottom step, gripping the banister so hard my knuckles ached.

"You like that, Chloe?" Julian shoved her harder into the mattress.

His voice. The same voice that had cried against my neck three nights ago.

"Fuck yes." Chloe threw her head back. "Deep. Give it to me."

My legs moved on their own. I climbed the stairs like a ghost.

The master bedroom door stood wide open.

I stepped into the doorway.

They didn't notice me.

Julian had her pinned face-down against our mattress.

His hands gripped her bare hips, slamming his cock into her pussy with brutal force. Her pale skin was flushed red from the impact.

He pulled her hips higher, angling her exactly how he liked.

"Fuck, you feel so good." Sweat shined on his back. "So much better than my wife."

The folder slipped slightly in my damp palms.

"Is she... still at the bank?" Chloe smashed her face into my silk pillows.

"Who cares?" Julian let out a cruel, harsh laugh. "She's signing the papers. The dumb bitch is bailing me out. Now spread your legs wider."

Chloe reached back, grabbing his thighs. "You're fucking huge, Julian. Fill me up."

He pulled almost all the way out, the wet sound echoing in the room, then thrust back in to the hilt.

The headboard banged violently against the wall.

*Bang. Bang. Bang.*

The rhythm synced with the shattering of my reality.

I had sold my parents' home. I had taken on ten million in debt.

All to save a man currently raw-dogging another woman in our marital bed.

"Are you going to cum inside me?" Chloe twisted her hips.

"Yeah." Julian sped up his pace. "I'm going to fill your wet cunt, Chloe. Fuck."

I stepped fully into the room.

"Don't let me interrupt."

My voice cut the heavy, sweat-filled air like a blade.

Julian went completely rigid mid-thrust.

He whipped his head around.

Panic instantly replaced the lust on his flushed face.

"Elara!"

He ripped his dick out of Chloe, scrambling backward. He tripped over the tangled duvet and crashed onto the floor.

Chloe shrieked. She yanked the sheet up to cover her bare breasts.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Julian stammered. He grabbed his boxers from the rug.

"I live here." I stared at his limp, wet cock before he managed to cover it. "Or did you forget?"

"Baby, wait. It's not what it looks like."

"Not what it looks like?" I asked. "I literally just watched you pull out of her."

"It meant nothing!" Julian yelled, waving his hands frantically. "I was stressed! The company is dying, Elara! I needed an outlet, and she threw herself at me."

"Hey!" Chloe objected from the bed. "You told me you were leaving her!"

"Shut the fuck up, Chloe!" Julian roared at her.

He turned back to me, his face morphing into a mask of pure desperation.

"Elara, listen to me. You know I love you. You know I only want you."

"You just said she feels better than me," I pointed out.

Julian flinched. "That was just dirty talk! It means nothing. Men say stupid shit when they fuck. Please, Elara. Did you get the loan?"

"You're asking about the money right now?" I asked. "You're standing here half-naked, with your mistress in our bed, and you want to know about the money?"

"My company is on the line!" he shouted. "Everything I built!"

"Everything *I* saved," I corrected him.

I looked down at the contract.

Ten million dollars.

My signature, legally binding me to his ruin.

"Yes, Julian. I got it."

Relief washed over his pathetic face. He actually smiled.

"Thank God," he breathed out. "Elara, please. The stress... I lost my mind. I didn't mean any of this. Just give me the papers."

He stepped toward me, extending his hand.

"You want the papers?" I asked.

"We need them to save the company," he urged. His tone shifted to that familiar, manipulative calm. "Don't let a stupid mistake ruin our future."

"Our future," I repeated.

I looked at Chloe. She clutched her clothes, trying to sneak toward the bathroom.

"Stay right there, Chloe," I snapped.

She halted, her eyes wide with fear.

I turned my attention back to my husband. The man I had loved for seven years. The man I had just sacrificed my entire life for.

"You think I'm handing this over?" I asked.

"You already signed it." Julian took another step closer. "The money is going to my account. It's done, Elara. Now give me the confirmation."

"I haven't filed the final authorization code," I lied.

Julian stopped. The color drained from his face.

"What?"

"Mr. Garris needs a verbal confirmation from me by 8:00 AM to release the funds," I said. "If I don't call, the contract voids. You get nothing."

"You're bluffing," he sneered.

"Call the bank," I challenged. "Ask them where your ten million is."

Julian stared at me, his jaw working furiously.

"You wouldn't dare," he whispered. "You mortgaged your parents' house. If I go under, you lose it anyway."

"I'd rather burn my childhood home to the ground than give you another dime."

Chloe whimpered from the bed. "Julian, fix this. You promised me a position as VP once the cash came through."

I let out a harsh laugh.

"VP?" I asked. "You're fucking him for a job title?"

"Shut up, Chloe!" Julian yelled.

He lunged at me.

I sidestepped, letting him crash into the doorframe.

"Don't touch me." I stepped into the hallway.

"Elara, wait!" Julian pleaded, recovering his balance. "I'll fire her. I'll kick her out right now. Just make the call tomorrow. Please!"

"You are disgusting."

I turned my back on him and walked toward the stairs.

"If you walk out that door, we're done!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the house.

"We are done," I called over my shoulder.

"You owe me those papers! You're my wife!"

I reached the bottom of the stairs.

The front door stood open, exactly as I had left it.

I walked out into the cool night air, the folder still tightly gripped in my hand.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I answered it.

"Mrs. Mercer," a deep, unfamiliar male voice said. "I hear you have a ten million dollar problem. And I have the solution."