Carrying His Heir, Plotting His Fall

The scent of expensive Cuban cigars and cedarwood cologne hit me the second I stepped out of the private elevator. But beneath that familiar scent of my husband's Manhattan penthouse office, a thick, wet stench of sex and sweat tainted the air.

My fingers clamped around the paper in my hand. NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. Early pregnancy results. Positive.

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years since I walked away from a senior partner track at the city's top law firm to play the perfect CEO's wife for Julian Vance.

The heavy soundproof oak door stood an inch open.

A wet, slurping sound leaked into the silent hallway, followed by a raw, guttural groan.

"Fuck, yes. Take it all, Chloe." Julian's voice.

I froze. My pulse pounded against my temples.

"Suck my fucking cock," he grunted. "Don't use your teeth."

I pushed the door open.

A million-dollar custom black walnut desk dominated the room. Behind it, Julian leaned back in his leather high-back chair. Three buttons of his custom silk shirt hung open, exposing his heaving chest.

On the cold marble floor, his private secretary, Chloe Monroe, knelt between his spread legs. Her messy blonde hair fanned over his tense thighs. Her red lips stretched wide, greedily taking his hard, thick cock all the way to the base.

She made a muffled, wet sound, bobbing her head. Her pale fingers dug into the tight muscles of his inner thighs.

"That's it, you filthy slut," Julian growled. "Swallow every fucking inch."

Julian tilted his head back. His handsome, cold features flushed with ruthless pleasure. Then he lowered his chin.

His dark eyes locked onto mine.

I stood paralyzed in the doorway. My blood turned to ice.

He didn't freeze. He didn't push her away.

Instead, a cruel smirk twisted his lips. He reached down and wrapped his large hand around the back of Chloe's head.

"Watch, Victoria," he sneered, voice heavy with malice. "Watch how a real woman takes my cock."

He shoved his hips forward, forcing himself deep into her throat. She gagged, a wet, sloppy sound echoing off the high ceilings, but she didn't stop.

"Fuck," Julian groaned, eyes never leaving mine. "Suck it harder, Chloe. Milk my balls. I'm going to come right down your throat."

The pregnancy test slipped from my trembling fingers and fluttered to the expensive Persian rug.

"Julian…" My voice broke.

Bile rose in my throat. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through me.

He gripped her hair tighter and thrust up one last time. "Take it, Chloe."

Chloe pulled back just enough for the head of his cock to slip free with a loud, wet sound. Her face was slick with saliva and precum.

She turned her head and looked at me. No panic. No shame.

She leaned her cheek against Julian's bare knee, slowly stuck out her tongue, and licked a thick string of white fluid from the corner of her lips. She smiled, eyes gleaming like a victorious viper.

"Did you drop something, Mrs. Kingsley?" Chloe asked, voice sweet and mocking.

I stared at them. My chest felt hollow. "How could you do this?"

Julian zipped his pants, not bothering to hide the bulge. "Don't act so pathetic, Victoria. You walked in on us. I didn't invite you."

"It's our fifth anniversary," I whispered, pointing a shaking finger at the floor. "I came to tell you we're having a baby."

Julian glanced at the paper on the rug. He laughed—a cold, hollow sound.

"A baby?" He stepped around the desk. "You think a baby changes the fact that you've been a boring, frigid wife for two years?"

"I gave up my career for you! I stepped down so you could build this empire!"

"You stepped down because you couldn't handle the pressure," he shot back, stopping inches from my face. "Chloe gives me exactly what I need. She sucks my cock under this desk while I close million-dollar deals. What do you do, Victoria? Pick out drapes?"

Chloe stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Julian is a man who needs a woman willing to get on her knees. You're too stiff, Victoria."

"Shut your mouth, you cheap whore," I snapped.

Chloe laughed and stepped closer to Julian, wrapping her arm around his waist. "I might be cheap, but he's fucking me, not you."

I raised my hand and slapped Julian across the face. The slap landed with a sharp crack, whipping his head to the side.

He turned back to me, eyes dark and dangerous. "You're going to regret that."

"I want a divorce," I said, voice finally steady.

"You get nothing," Julian snarled. "I own you. I own everything you have. Try to leave and I'll put you on the street with nothing but that bastard in your belly."

"You think you can trap me?"

"I already have," he mocked. "Check the prenup, sweetheart. The infidelity penalty only triggers if you have admissible evidence. Right now it's just your word against the CEO of Vance Capital."

"I'll burn your life to the ground," I promised.

"Try it," he challenged, crossing his arms. "Who's going to hire you? You've been out of the courtroom for five years. You have no money, no connections, and no power."

Chloe picked up the pregnancy test, inspected it, and tossed it into the trash with a cruel smile.

"Looks like this little mistake is going to grow up poor."

I lunged for the heavy crystal ashtray on the desk.

Julian caught my wrist mid-air. His grip bruised instantly.

"Don't make a scene, Victoria," he warned, prying the crystal from my fingers. "Go home. Pack a bag. I'm moving Chloe into the master bedroom tonight."

My jaw dropped. "You're kicking me out of my own home?"

"It's my home," he corrected. "You just lived in it."

He shoved me backward. I stumbled but stayed upright.

"I'll see you in court, Julian."

I turned and marched toward the door.

"You won't make it to court!" he shouted after me. "I'll bury you in legal fees before you even file the paperwork!"

I didn't look back. I stepped into the hallway and slammed the heavy oak door shut.

My hands shook violently. I pressed my back against the cool wall, forcing air into my lungs. Five years. I gave him five years of my life, my ambition, my loyalty.

He thought I was weak. He thought I was just a housewife with no teeth left.

I pulled my phone from my purse and dialed a number I hadn't called since the day I quit my firm.

The line rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"Victoria," the man said. "I wondered if you'd ever call."

"Damian," I replied, voice cold as steel. "I need a favor. I'm taking down Julian Vance."

A low chuckle vibrated through the speaker. "I'll send a car. We have a lot of work to do."

I hung up, stomach twisting with fear and anticipation. Damian was the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York—and Julian's biggest rival.

But as I walked toward the elevator, the doors slid open and two large security guards stepped out, blocking my path.

"Mrs. Kingsley," the taller one said, expression blank. "Mr. Kingsley requested we escort you to the basement."

"I know the way out," I snapped, trying to push past them.

The guard grabbed my arm, grip unforgiving. "He didn't say anything about letting you leave."