Betrayed Wife: Claimed By The Ruthless CEO

Isolde was on her knees, the cold marble floor biting into her skin. Ken's shadow loomed over her, blocking the light. She was about to give up, about to let the despair swallow her whole, when she heard it.

"Sir, my lollipop fell!"

The voice was small, clear, and achingly familiar.

Isolde's head snapped up. From behind Ken's legs, a little figure stepped out. Bria. She was pointing at a sticky red blob on the floor, her lower lip trembling.

Isolde lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her daughter. She pulled Bria tight against her chest, burying her face in the little girl's hair. The tears came faster, but these were tears of relief.

"Mommy, you're squeezing too tight!" Bria squirmed, but she patted Isolde's back with her small hand. "Don't cry. The nice man helped me."

Isolde looked up. Jacques stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable. But the coldness from a moment ago was gone. He was watching Bria with a strange intensity, his brow furrowed.

Bria pointed at Jacques. "The bad men tried to take me, but he stopped them. He gave me a lollipop."

Isolde's mouth fell open. The man who had humiliated her, who had destroyed her husband's deal, had just saved her daughter. "You... you saved her?"

Jacques shrugged, his voice cool. "I was walking through the lobby. I saw her wandering alone. Two men in cheap suits were trying to coax her into a car. I had Ken handle it."

Isolde's blood ran cold. The men in cheap suits must have been Clark's goons. He had tried to have Bria kidnapped.

"Thank you," Isolde whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't know how to repay you."

Bria tugged on Jacques's trouser leg. "Hey. You still owe me a lollipop. I dropped it."

Jacques looked down at her. The hard lines of his face softened. He crouched down until he was at her eye level. "You're right. I do owe you. What kind do you want?"

"The red kind," Bria said seriously. She leaned in, studying his face. "You look like the prince in my storybook. The one with the big castle."

Jacques blinked. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. It transformed his face, making him look younger, less intimidating. "Is that so?"

Isolde grabbed Bria's arm, pulling her back. "Bria, don't bother Mr. Valdez. We need to go."

"But I want his phone number!" Bria protested, grabbing Jacques's sleeve. "Princes have phone numbers, right?"

Isolde's face burned. "Bria, no-"

Jacques reached into Ken's jacket and pulled out a sleek silver cardholder. He slid out a card and handed it to Bria. "You're right. Every princess needs a direct line to the castle."

Bria took the card, her eyes wide. She looked at the numbers, tracing the embossed lettering with her tiny finger, before clutching it to her chest like a sacred treasure. She turned to Isolde. "Mommy, this is the prince's number. You have to save it for me, okay? Don't lose it!"

Isolde stared at her daughter as she carefully handed the card over. It was a lifeline she hadn't expected.

Jacques's eyebrows rose. "Smart kid," he said, standing up. He looked at Isolde, his gaze turning serious. "Why was she alone, Isolde?"

Isolde straightened her spine, refusing to show weakness. "It was a misunderstanding with her nanny. It won't happen again." She picked Bria up, balancing her on her hip. "Thank you again, Mr. Valdez. We'll be going now."

"Bye, Prince Jacques!" Bria called, waving her little hand.

Jacques raised a hand in return, his eyes never leaving Isolde's face. Isolde turned and walked away, her heart heavy.

Back at Vivian's apartment, Isolde ran a bath for Bria. While her daughter splashed in the tub, Isolde sat on the closed toilet, staring at the business card in her hand.

Jacques Valdez. CEO, Valdez Group.

The reality of who he was hit her like a physical blow. He wasn't just a rich man. He was a titan. He controlled half the real estate in the city. And he had her phone number. He knew who she was.

Bria came out of the bathroom, her hair damp. "Can I sleep with the prince's card, Mommy?"

Isolde wanted to rip the card to shreds. But the look on Bria's face stopped her. She handed the card over, watching as her daughter tucked it under her pillow like a treasure.

After Bria fell asleep, Isolde walked into the living room. Vivian was waiting, a glass of mulled wine in her hand.

"I called a lawyer," Isolde said, her voice hollow. "The best divorce attorney in the city. I'm done running. I'm going to fight."