His Mistresses Made Me a Billionaire

"Fifty million. It's in the bag."

Elena Pruitt flashed a dazzling, worshipful smile.

"Mr. Delgado, you're brilliant. Truly, no one in the industry comes close."

Ten minutes later, the audio file landed on my phone.

I forwarded it to the rival bidding firm's CEO without hesitation.

[Bid: $49 million. Guaranteed win.]

By morning, news of Christian's humiliating defeat had swept the industry.

He stormed into the office, smashing a vase against the wall.

"Impossible! We missed by a single million! Who leaked the floor price?"

I sat in my office, filing my nails, watching him rampage through the glass partition like a clown performing for an audience of one.

Elena's message popped up: [Mia, how was that?]

I wired her a bonus instantly. [Well done. Expect a raise next month.]

That night, Christian dragged himself home, defeated.

In the living room, Candy was live-streaming while Georgia directed from the sidelines. The atmosphere was electric—a stark contrast to Christian's gloom.

"Thanks for the rocket, Top Supporter!" Candy chirped at the camera.

The cheerfulness snapped Christian's fragile temper.

"Shut up! Is this a house or a circus?"

Candy flinched, nearly dropping her phone.

Georgia stepped in front of her immediately, shielding the younger woman with a glacial stare.

"Mr. Delgado, we're working. Show some professional respect."

"Working? You call shaking your ass for strangers 'work'?" Christian sneered.

Georgia's expression darkened.

"Watch your mouth. We make money with our own talent—there's no shame in honest work." Her eyes narrowed. "But you, the great CEO, can't even win a simple bid. You only know how to take your failures out on women. What kind of man does that make you?"

Stung by the truth, Christian raised his hand.

"Stop."

My voice sliced through the air as I descended the stairs.

"Christian, if that hand lands, tomorrow's livestream title will be 'CEO Beats Pregnant Mistress.' Do you have any idea what that'll do to the stock price?"

His hand froze mid-air. He knew I didn't make idle threats.

He lowered his arm, chest heaving.

"Fine. You think you're all so smart?" He glared at us, cornered. "Just wait until my birthday banquet. I've got a big announcement. You'll regret everything."

He tried to look fierce, but I smelled the fear on him.

A big announcement? At most, he planned to publicly humiliate me or legitimize one of his women.

Poor Christian. He didn't realize his birthday party wasn't a celebration.

It was his funeral.

And I had prepared a gift he'd remember for the rest of his miserable life.

Christian's birthday banquet was a who's-who of the business world—half the city's elite, desperate to witness drama.

I slipped in wearing a sleek black evening gown. Fitting attire for a mourning widow.

On stage, Christian beamed under the spotlight. Beside him stood Candy, draped in white haute couture, hands cradling her rounded belly. Delicate. Pitiful. Expensive.

"Thank you all for coming," Christian announced. "Today, I want to introduce someone special. Miss Candy White... who is carrying my child. She is my future—"

A murmur ripped through the crowd.

Hundreds of eyes shifted to me. Pity. Mockery. Anticipation.

Christian expected me to weep. To rush the stage like a deranged shrew so he could label me crazy and oust me from the company.

He calculated wrong.

I stood at the foot of the stage, caught his eye, and raised my champagne glass. A cold, pitying smile played on my lips.

Christian's brow furrowed.

"Mia Fox, don't you have anything to say?"

The question hung thick with expectation. I set my glass down on a passing tray. Crystal chimed softly. With deliberate steps, I climbed the stage and took the microphone.

"First, I'd like to wish Mr. Delgado a happy birthday." My voice betrayed nothing. "Second, I've prepared a rather significant gift."

I clapped once. Sharp. Echoing.

Behind me, the massive LED screen flickered. The romantic montage of Christian and his 'devoted' life stuttered and died. Stark spreadsheets replaced it.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Bank transfers. Offshore accounts. Gambling debts. Evidence of Christian Delgado embezzling company funds to feed his addiction.

Suffocating silence.

Christian's face turned the shade of old ash.

"What is this? Turn it off! Turn it off now!"

He lunged toward the controls, but two burly guards blocked him like a concrete wall.

"Christian," I said, calm against his frantic shouting. "For years, you've used the company's reputation to live like a king. You funneled public funds into casinos and private vices."

I paused. Let it settle.

"Did you think your accounting was flawless? I've been tracking every cent."

I turned to the stunned guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in light of Mr. Delgado's criminal misconduct—" I straightened my spine. "I hereby announce that Christian Delgado is stripped of all titles and removed from Resonance Entertainment, effective immediately."

Christian's mouth opened and closed. A fish out of water.

"Furthermore, I've contacted the authorities."

On cue, the double doors swung open. Uniformed officers marched in.