The Billionaire Begged For The Wife He Never Wanted

I pushed the front door of the penthouse open. The lights were off, casting the massive living room in deep shadows.

I dropped my purse onto the marble kitchen island. The heavy thud echoed through the silent apartment.

A muffled sound drifted down the long hallway.

I froze. My fingers curled around the edge of the cold countertop.

Another sound followed. A high-pitched, rhythmic whine.

I slipped my shoes off. My bare feet made no noise against the hardwood floor as I walked toward the master bedroom. The door stood ajar, a sliver of warm, golden light spilling out onto the hallway rug.

I stopped just outside the frame. My stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot.

Through the crack, I saw them.

Cedric, my husband of three years, had a woman pinned face-down against the mattress. His hands gripped her hips, his knuckles white as he drove himself into her.

"Fuck, yes," the woman moaned, her voice thick and breathless.

Valora Pierce.

Cedric’s ex-girlfriend. The woman he supposedly broke up with right before our families arranged our marriage.

"Keep your ass up, Valora," Cedric grunted. He slapped her thigh hard, the sharp smack ringing through the room. "Spread your legs wider."

"Fuck my pussy harder, Cedric," Valora whined, arching her back. "Give it all to me."

"I'm going to tear you apart," he snarled, his pace turning brutal. "Fuck, you feel so good."

My nails dug into the wooden doorframe. The wood bit into my skin, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the violent shock ripping through my chest.

Three years.

For three years, I played the perfect wife. I smiled at his side during endless corporate galas. I leveraged my family’s vast resources to triple the market share of Montgomery Enterprises. I cooked his meals, organized his schedule, and tried to build a home out of this cold, empty penthouse.

And for three years, he never laid a finger on me. He always wore a mask of absolute indifference, his jaw locked tight, his eyes empty whenever he looked my way.

"Tell me whose cock this is," Cedric demanded, his hips slapping loudly against her.

"Yours," Valora gasped. "Only yours."

She turned her head, burying her face in the pillows I had picked out just last month. Then, a cruel, mocking laugh bubbled up from her throat.

"Does your wife ever take it like this?" Valora asked.

Cedric paused his thrusts. He stared down at her, his expression twisting with immediate disgust.

"Don't ruin the fucking mood," he said.

"Answer me," Valora teased, reaching back to trail a hand down his thigh. "Does Seren beg for your cock? Does she fuck you like I do?"

"I don't touch her," Cedric snapped. He resumed his punishing rhythm. "I never have."

"But she tries so hard to be a good little corporate wife," Valora mocked.

"Let her try. She's a sterile business transaction. A walking bank account." Cedric groaned loudly, leaning over to bite Valora's shoulder. "I look at her and I feel absolutely nothing. I'd rather cut my own dick off than put it inside her."

The words hit me like a physical blow. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

"So mean to her," Valora cooed. "But so good to me."

"You're the only one who gets me hard," Cedric said. "Your pussy is the only thing I want. I've been fucking you since the day after I signed that damn marriage contract."

The day after our wedding.

My vision blurred for a second. I recalled that exact day. I had spent twelve hours in a boardroom, fighting my own father to secure a crucial shipping route for Cedric’s company. I came home exhausted, eager to celebrate our new partnership. Cedric had told me he was working late.

He was with her.

"Does she know you take me on your business trips?" Valora asked, her voice hitching as Cedric hit a deep angle.

"She packs my bags for them," Cedric laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "She thinks I'm locked in meetings in Paris and Tokyo while I'm actually in a hotel bed, burying my face between your thighs."

Bile rose in my throat. I packed his bags. I folded his ties. I made sure he had his favorite cologne.

"Fuck, Valora. Wrap your legs around my waist," Cedric ordered. "I'm not pulling out."

"Fill me up," Valora screamed. "Fuck, yes, fill me up!"

I couldn't watch another second.

I backed away from the door. My chest heaved, struggling to pull in oxygen. I turned and practically ran down the hallway. I didn't care if my footsteps made noise. I didn't care if they heard me.

I grabbed my purse off the island.

I walked out the front door and slammed it shut behind me. The heavy metal door clicked into place, sealing the sounds of their grunts and moans inside.

I marched toward the elevator and smashed the call button.

"Don't think about it," I whispered to the empty hallway. "Do not think about it."

But the images burned behind my eyelids. His hands on her. The passion in his voice. The absolute hatred in his tone when he spoke my name.

The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside and hit the lobby button.

My hands shook violently as I dug into my purse and pulled out my phone. I scrolled past Cedric's name—the name I had prioritized above all others for a thousand days—and tapped on a different contact.

The line rang twice before a sharp voice answered.

"Seren?" Julian asked. "It's past midnight. What's wrong?"

"I need you to draft divorce papers," I said. My voice cracked on the first word, but by the last, it was hard as steel.

Papers shuffled on the other end of the line. "Cedric? Did something happen?"

"He's fucking Valora Pierce in my bed."

Silence hung heavy on the line. Julian was not just my lead attorney; he was my oldest friend.

"Are you safe?" Julian asked, his tone dropping to a lethal calm.

"I left the penthouse. I'm in the elevator now."

"I'm sending a car to the lobby. Do not go back upstairs."

"I wouldn't go back up there if the building was on fire," I said.

"Good. What are your orders?"

"I want the marriage contract voided under the infidelity clause," I demanded, pacing the small space of the elevator. "I want every single asset, every shipping route, every dime my family funneled into Montgomery Enterprises pulled by tomorrow morning."

"Pulling the funding overnight will completely crash his stock, Seren."

"I want him ruined, Julian."

"He will fight it," Julian warned. "He needs your family name to keep his board of directors happy. He won't let you walk away easily."

"He can fight all he wants," I said, staring at my own pale reflection in the elevator doors. "I have the security footage from the penthouse hallway. And I'm going to destroy him."

The elevator chimed, signaling the ground floor.

"I'll have the papers ready by sunrise," Julian said.

"Make sure they're airtight," I replied, ending the call.

The doors slid open, revealing the grand, marble-floored lobby. I stepped out, my posture straight, my chin high. I forced the tears back down. Cedric Montgomery did not deserve a single tear from me.

I walked toward the glass exit doors, ready to leave this false life behind forever.

"Seren?" a deep, unfamiliar voice called out from the shadows near the reception desk.

I stopped and turned.

A man stepped into the light. He wore a tailored black suit, his broad shoulders easily filling the frame. His dark eyes locked onto mine, holding a dangerous, knowing glint.

"Who are you?" I asked, gripping my purse tighter.

He offered a slow, sharp smile. "The man who is going to help you burn Cedric Montgomery to the ground."