The Billionaire Forced Me to Marry Him to Save His Mistress From Scandal

When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I noticed was that the ceiling wasn’t mine. It was too white, too bright, too pristine.

My heart lurched as I sat up quickly, only to wince at the pain shooting across my body. Panic clawed at me, my breath catching in my throat.

Where was I?

“Ma’am, please.” A soft voice broke the silence. I whipped my head around and saw a maid standing near the corner, hands clasped in front of her. “You should take a rest. You’re not fine yet.”

My hands gripped the sheets. “Where am I? Where did you take me? Where’s my baby?” My voice cracked as I forced myself to sit straighter. “Tell me now!”

Before she could answer, a low, mocking laugh echoed from the doorway.

“Oh, come on, Stephanie. Chill. You’re no longer in danger.”

My blood ran cold at the sound of that baritone voice. Slowly, I turned, and my eyes widened.

“Inigo…” I whispered.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, the same arrogant smirk that had haunted me since high school plastered on his face. Of all people, it had to be him. My enemy, my rival in everything—grades, sports, even family expectations. Our fathers were business partners once, close friends, and there had been talks of an engagement back then. But I had refused. I hated him.

Yet here he was.

“Why am I here? What am I doing in your place?” I demanded, my voice trembling.

He stepped inside, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Because, dear Stephanie, you bumped into my car. I saved you.”

“My… my baby,” I stammered, clutching my stomach.

“All good,” Inigo replied smoothly. “The baby is fine. But you?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re not fine at all. Knowing what you just learned? That your precious husband is nothing but a traitor? I think the real question is—what will you do now?”

My throat tightened. “That’s none of your business.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, but it is. Why don’t you divorce him and marry me? Like you should have from the start.”

The audacity of him made my blood boil. “No! I will not do that! I hate you.”

“Still so fiery.” He grinned, unbothered. “That’s why I like you.” With a snap of his fingers, the maid turned on the television mounted on the wall. My heart stopped as the broadcast came into view.

There she was. Kyline. Smiling. Hand in hand with Brendon.

The caption burned into my brain: Love is sweeter the second time around.

So that was it. That was why I was hidden as a wife. Why there were no anniversaries, no public appearances, no pride in calling me his own. He had been waiting. Waiting for her to come back.

I exhaled shakily, the fight draining from me. “Fine. I’ll marry you.” The words tasted bitter, but my chest ached with resolve. “But first… I need to go home. I need to settle things. Pick me up again in four days.”

Inigo studied me for a moment before smirking. “Consider it done.”

Hours later, I was escorted home in a limousine. The tinted windows hid my face from the world, but my heart was pounding. As the gates of the Smith mansion loomed closer, I gripped the seat, bracing myself.

The doors opened, and there he was—Brendon.

He stormed down the steps, his expression thunderous. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you nonstop! And whose limousine is that?”

My lips curved into a humorless smile. “No one.”

“No one?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you cheating on me?”

I laughed bitterly. “Really? Me? Or was it you?”

His jaw clenched. “What are you saying? You come attacking me because our anniversary didn’t happen? I told you I was busy!”

“Busy with what?” I snapped, my voice trembling.

Before he could reply, a soft sob broke through. We both turned. Kyline stood at the door, tears streaming down her face, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Are you fighting because of me? I shouldn’t have come back, but I just wanted to come clean. To say sorry about your mother. I know it’s wrong timing.”

My eyes darted to her neck—and froze. The necklace. The Audrey Hepburn gold set. The one I thought was mine. It gleamed against her skin.

Rage boiled inside me.

“You harmed my mother!” I spat, stepping forward. “Do you think ‘sorry’ is enough?”

Kyline reached out to touch me. “Stephanie, please—”

I slapped her hand away. Hard. She stumbled, nearly losing her balance.

“Stephanie!” Brendon roared, rushing to Kyline’s side. His face twisted with fury. “Are you insane? She came here to apologize, and you dare harm her?”

Tears blurred my vision. “I don’t need her apology! She’s evil! You promised me—you said you would make her pay. So why now?”

“Enough!” Brendon shouted. His eyes were sharp, filled with disgust. “Do you really believe that? I’ve known her longer than you. She doesn’t deserve your hatred. Apologize to her. Now.”

I shook my head. “No.”

His voice dropped, low and threatening. “If you don’t, I’ll pull the plug on your mother’s life support.”

My heart stopped. “You… you would really kill my mother for her?”

“Yes.” His answer was cold, merciless. “So kneel. Now. And kiss her shoes.”

Kyline gasped, shaking her head. “Brendon, no—there’s no need for that—”

But Brendon’s glare silenced her.

Tears streamed down my face as my knees buckled. I lowered myself to the floor, humiliation burning through every vein. Slowly, painfully, I bent forward and pressed my lips to Kyline’s shoes.

Satisfied, Brendon pulled Kyline close and led her away, leaving me broken on the marble floor.

Alone.

I pressed my fists against my chest and cried until my body shook. But even as despair consumed me, a flicker of resolve sparked deep inside. Just a few more days. Four days, and I’d be gone. No one would ever harm me again.

Wiping my tears, I staggered to my room. My hands trembled as I picked up my phone, but my voice was steady when the line connected.

“Hello?”

“This is Stephanie Smith,” I whispered. “I want to file for divorce. File the papers.”