Love's Sweetest Surprise: From Brokenhearted To Billionaire's Wife

Worry tightened Jonathan's chest. The expression he saw on Bethany's face was painfully fragile, and there wasn't a hint of joy in her eyes.

All he could see was the emptiness of someone utterly drained of hope.

At the nearest intersection, the Maybach maneuvered a U-turn, smoothly keeping pace with the cab Bethany was in.

Behind the tinted window, Jonathan's gaze never left the faint outline of Bethany in the back seat.

Her head was pressed to the window, her shoulders shivering; she looked like she was trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Brodie Wilson..." The name escaped Jonathan's lips, his voice ice-cold.

He couldn't wrap his head around what pain could strip away every trace of life from a woman who once sparkled with energy.

The cab eventually rolled into an upscale villa community, stopping before an opulent house.

Jonathan quietly signaled his driver to halt at a discreet distance.

From where he sat, he watched Bethany pause outside the grand front door, her head tilted back as she gazed up at the building.

Not a single tear fell, yet the devastation etched into her posture was louder than any cry for help.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally moved forward, disappearing behind the door.

Once she was out of sight, Jonathan spoke, his voice disturbingly steady. "Robert."

"Yes, Mr. Taylor?"

"Make an announcement." Jonathan's gaze was glacial. "Taylor Group is halting every partnership with Wilson Group. Effective immediately, terminate all active deals."

Robert Kirk, his assistant, sucked in a sharp breath. "But Mr. Taylor, we've already invested over a hundred million dollars..."

"Just do it," Jonathan interjected, not giving him a chance to argue. "And by sunrise, I want every detail you can dig up on Brodie and his wife, Bethany."

"Understood."

...

At that very moment, Bethany stepped inside the living room and flicked on the lights, flooding the vast, empty villa with cold brightness.

There was no sign of Brodie. He must still be lingering at Karen's place.

Without bothering to settle in, Bethany slipped off her shoes and headed straight upstairs to the study.

She rarely stepped into Brodie's study, always keeping her distance out of respect for the space he claimed as private.

Looking back now, her respect felt laughably pointless.

Bethany powered on his computer, trying every password she could think of—even her own birthday—but nothing worked. Every attempt was denied.

A cold, mocking chuckle escaped Bethany's lips. Clearly, Brodie had been guarding against her for quite some time.

Her eyes wandered around the study until they landed on a compact safe tucked in the corner. Maybe that was where he kept whatever she needed to find.

While Bethany was still debating her next move, her phone began to ring inside her purse.

She pulled it out and noticed Brodie's name flashing across the screen.

Bethany stared at it for a moment before answering, her tone icy and flat. "Hello?"

"Are you home, Bethany? Why didn't you message me?" Brodie's voice carried that same soft warmth as always. But the background was strangely silent—not a hint of office noise.

"I've arrived. I just forgot," Bethany replied curtly.

There was a pause on the other end. Brodie seemed to pick up on the edge in her voice. "Is something wrong? You don't sound like yourself. Still not feeling well?"

"I'm fine. Just exhausted. I'm going to bed," Bethany said, stepping toward the window.

"Alright, then get some rest. Things are a bit messy here, so I'll be home late. No need to stay up for me," Brodie murmured gently. "Make sure to ask the maid for some warm soup. You've been under the weather, and I don't want you catching a cold."

Bethany's stomach twisted as she listened to his empty, rehearsed concern.

Under the weather? Wasn't he the reason for that in the first place?

"Fine," Bethany shot back the word, voice icy, and ended the call.

She couldn't stomach another second of Brodie's false tenderness.

After being deceived into handing over her bone marrow, Bethany had finally recognized the man for who he truly was.

The old Bethany, foolish and blinded by love, no longer existed.

Now, she was determined to calmly reclaim everything that was hers and see that shameless pair pay for what they'd done.

Brodie didn't come home until midday. Before even kicking off his shoes, he barreled inside and swept Bethany into his arms, desperate.

"I'm so sorry, Bethany." His voice was raw and scratchy, worn out from the long night, every word dripping with fake regret. "The company ran into a mess yesterday. I was tied up at work until morning. I know I came back late. Please, don't be upset with me, okay?"

Caught in his arms, Bethany rested her chin on his shoulder. Her gaze slid down and landed on the crisp white collar of his shirt—right where a bold, smudged lipstick stain stood out.

Bethany's eyes rested on the smear of lipstick for a moment, her mind nearly conjuring up a scene that made her stomach churn.

That sickly-sweet perfume hung in the air, twisting her stomach and making her feel like she might be sick. That was the unmistakable fragrance of another woman.

Bethany scoffed silently. A mess from company? More like a mistress who refused to let him leave.

Suppressing the wave of nausea, Bethany slipped out of Brodie's arms.

"I'm not upset." Her expression softened instantly, and she flashed him a perfect, practiced smile. "You must be exhausted. Go freshen up. I'll ask the housekeeper to set the table."

"Okay. By the way, Bethany, I brought you something." Brodie handed her a plush sapphire velvet box.

Bethany flipped it open casually. Inside lay a sparkling diamond necklace, clearly worth a fortune.

Her eyes swept over the jewels with cool detachment. The sight stirred nothing in her.

Brodie, unaware to her coldness, assumed Bethany was thrilled. "Do you like it? I picked it out just for you. There isn't another like it anywhere."

Bethany faked an enthusiastic smile, letting her voice drip with pretend gratitude. "Is that so? How thoughtful of you, darling... Even with your busy schedule, you still made time to buy me something special."

Brodie chuckled, not noticing her act, and gave her hair a gentle tousle. "As long as it makes you happy, that's all that matters. I'm heading to the shower."

As soon as he disappeared upstairs, Bethany's cheerful mask slipped away.

Bethany waited three minutes, making sure he got enough time to get ready for the shower before she entered the bedroom.

She nudged the half‑open bedroom door wider and stepped inside. The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the room. Brodie's shirt lay tossed across the bed. That smear of lipstick on the collar glowed an unforgiving shade of red.

Bethany's attention shifted to the nightstand. His phone rested there, face down and unguarded.

Bethany walked over and lifted it. The passcode was still their wedding anniversary. Brodie had once claimed he'd never change it because that day meant everything to him.

What a joke!

Bethany typed in the numbers and unlocked the screen.

A quick scan through his messages and photos showed nothing—too clean, almost scrubbed on purpose.

She was just about to set the phone back when it buzzed in her hand. A fresh notification appeared.

"Babe, I'm not okay... it hurts."

Bethany's fingers went rigid.

A second notification flashed, then a third.

"My cut is bleeding... Am I dying?"

"I need you here. Right now."

Every message came from Karen.

Suddenly, an image loaded onto the screen. Bethany's breath caught in her throat as she stared.

The photo showed Karen, completely naked, straddling Brodie in a brazen, possessive display.

Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes half-lidded with desire, and her collarbone was covered in love bites.

Around her neck was a diamond necklace, a perfect match for the one lying inside the box.

Brodie's hand, with that rare Patek Philippe watch, was draped lazily around Karen's waist.

But what truly made Bethany's skin crawl was the background in the picture.

That was her bed—the custom king-sized one she had picked out herself for their master bedroom.

She recognized the lighting, the décor, even the dog-eared book lying on her nightstand...

Everything confirmed the awful reality.

They had been here, desecrating her sanctuary, lost in their filthy affair!

Bethany bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.

She highlighted the whole chat, making sure to include the explicit photo, and sent everything to her own phone.

The transfer progress inched forward: 5%... 10%...

Bethany's eyes never left the screen.

37%... 52%...

Her pulse pounded in her ears, the only sound in the silent room.

Suddenly, she heard the soft click of a lock. The sound of a door swinging open echoed behind her!