Fake Marriage? The Billionaire Heiress Has A Thousand Faces

Kylee was halfway up the stairs when a sudden, hard shove from behind sent her stumbling. Liam.

She lurched, her balance gone, and for a terrifying second, she was falling toward the open edge of the staircase. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase, nails scraping hard against the wooden railing as she fought to stop her descent. Instead of tumbling down the flight, she collapsed onto the steps, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Liam!" Christopher's voice was a roar, his expression thunderous. Liam's lower lip jutted out. "You're bad too, Dad!" he yelled, then bolted up the rest of the stairs.

Tessa rushed up the stairs, ready to follow her son.

"Christopher, don't be angry. He's only five. He just needs to be taught." She paused, her gaze flicking down to where Kylee was still crumpled on the steps. "And honestly, Kylee. You're an adult. Surely a five-year-old couldn't have pushed you that hard?"

Kylee looked up, her eyes cold. "Are you suggesting I threw myself down the stairs to frame your son?"

"Of course not. If my words came out wrong, I apologize." Tessa's expression was a mask of wounded innocence. "I should go check on him." She turned and went upstairs, playing the part of the long-suffering mother perfectly.

Once they were gone, Christopher finally turned to Kylee. He crouched beside her, reaching for her ankle.

"Did you twist it? Let me see."

Kylee recoiled from his approaching hand and kicked out, knocking it away. "It's dirty!"

Christopher just chuckled, a low, patronizing sound. "Silly girl. You're my wife. How could I mind it? Come on, sweetheart. Let me see. Liam's still young. He knows you're not his biological mother, so it's only natural he's hitting that rebellious phase a little early. If it bothers you that much, I can arrange for someone else to look after him."

She pushed herself to her feet, using the movement to avoid his hand.

"Really? Who? I seem to recall suggesting a professional nanny once, and you were completely against it."

Ignoring the cold fury in her eyes, Christopher pressed on. "A nanny is still a stranger. What if they mistreated him? With the company's IPO at such a critical stage, I can't afford any distractions. But Liam is our son, and he's important too. Tessa is family. Having her here helps her out, and it helps us with Liam. It's a win-win." He met her gaze, his expression one of earnest devotion.

"You've always been so reasonable, Kylee."

He said it like a compliment, leaving no room for argument.

His rambling excuses made her stomach churn.

"If you've already made your decision," she said flatly, "why are we even having this conversation?"

A cold smile formed on her lips as she pulled out her phone.

"Actually, Christopher—I've had my eye on a piece for my collection. It's called 'Derailed,' by an up-and-coming new artist. You'll buy it for me, won't you?"

The moment Kylee had discovered Christopher had been lying to her for five years, her first impulse had been to slap him, pack her things, and walk out.

But then she'd come to her senses. Why should she?

She was the victim. He had lied to her for five years.

Five years of a sexless marriage. Five years of humiliation, playing the dutiful wife while raising his and Tessa's child.

She'd turned down offers from top global firms, all to stay and rescue the floundering Roberts Group.

In five years, she had single-handedly pulled the company back from the brink and erased billions in debt.

In six short months, the Roberts Group would go public. Christopher's net worth would soar into the tens of billions.

And after all her sacrifice, was she supposed to just let them push her aside with nothing?

Why should she?

Before she was done with Christopher, she would take back every single thing she was owed.

"It's just paint on canvas," Christopher said dismissively. "You have so many already. And it's by some nobody. It has no real value." He had no intention of wasting money on something so trivial. Kylee nodded slowly. "You're right. A piece by an emerging artist isn't worth much at all." She paused, letting the words hang in the air. "But I want it. Or is it that you're simply not willing to spend money on me?"

"Kylee, don't be so childish," he snapped, his brow furrowing. "This isn't about my willingness to spend money. It's a waste to hoard worthless scribbles!"

"I'm not asking you, Christopher. I'm telling you. I'm buying it." She gave him a cool, unreadable smile.

After working hard for the Roberts Group for five years, a single painting was the very least she was owed. A vein throbbed in Christopher's temple. He decided to just agree for now.

"Fine!" he said through a tight smile. "Whatever my darling wife wants. Once the company goes public, we can—"

"Transaction complete. Ninety million—" The cold, mechanical voice of her banking app cut him off. Kylee's smile was brilliant.

"Thank you, darling. The funds are already in my account. I'll go to the gallery myself, so don't you worry about it. Just focus on work."

"Since when did you have access to my account?! And what kind of painting costs ninety million?!"

He snatched the phone from her. His eyes widened as he stared at the screen, a mixture of shock and fury twisting his features.

Ninety million dollars. Deposited into the account of Kylee. The transaction note was short and clear: Voluntary transfer.

Christopher felt his knees go weak. Ninety million dollars. She had just taken ninety million dollars without even blinking.