My Husband Chose His Secretary, So I Married His Billionaire Rival

It was like ice water dumped over my head. All the blood in my body froze.

Twenty years of humiliation, twenty years of endurance—it all ignited into grief and fury. I grabbed the hot porridge from the table and hurled it at them.

My eyes burned. My voice shook with rage.

"Nathan Floyd, why don't you both go to hell."

Vivian clutched her face and let out a piercing scream. "It's so hot! Mr. Floyd, it hurts—am I going to be disfigured?"

The air froze. Nathan kicked my thigh, and I crashed to the floor. Shattered porcelain sliced into my palm, my arm—

He turned away, pulled Vivian into his arms, cradling her face as he blew gently on her skin. "Vivian, it's okay. I'll get you the best cosmetic specialists. Nothing will happen to you, I promise."

I watched her burrow into his chest, sobbing softly. Slowly, I pushed myself off the floor, held out the divorce papers with my blood-covered hand, and said flatly, "Nathan Floyd, you really are something."

"Let's get a divorce."

I grabbed my suitcase and strode out of the villa.

His roar chased me to the door. "Alex Harding, you assault Vivian and then dare to bring up divorce? Fine—if you've got the guts, don't ever come back. Let's see who else would protect you for a lifetime like I did."

When I stepped outside, Ethan's car had just pulled up.

The moment he saw the food stains and blood covering me, pain flashed through his eyes. "Alex, what happened? Did that bastard Nathan hurt you?"

He moved toward the villa, ready to demand answers. I caught his arm. "Ethan, let's go. Consider it payback for his help."

I pulled out my phone, deleted Nathan's number, and blocked him on WeChat and QQ.

The suffocating weight in my chest finally lifted.

Ethan took me straight to the Suburban Villa. He prepared clean clothes, called a doctor to treat my wounds.

The porcelain shards came out one by one. Blood streamed down my arm.

I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.

Ethan held me, his voice raw with guilt. "I'm sorry, Alex. It's my fault. Back then, I was too powerless to stop any of it."

Ethan Walker. Executive CEO of the Walker Group, a billion-dollar empire.

We'd been kindred spirits once—him, the oppressed illegitimate son; me, the eldest legitimate daughter abused by her stepmother.

We used to hold each other and wipe away each other's tears, encouraging, comforting.

If Nathan hadn't offered me warmth back then, if I hadn't believed he'd give me a stable home, maybe I would have ended up with Ethan instead.

But I'd thought what we had was just sibling affection.

And Ethan had two legitimate older brothers above him. He couldn't even protect himself.

Until my wedding day. He burst into my room, eyes red, and stared at me for a long moment.

"Alex, if he ever treats you badly—come find me. I'll protect you, even if it costs my life."

That was when I finally understood. Ethan loved me. He just hadn't dared to drag me down with him.

After I got married, Ethan launched his counterattack.

His eldest brother was locked up for smuggling. His second brother was exiled abroad after a scandal involving another man.

Suddenly, Ethan was the Walker family's only untainted heir.

He started from the bottom. Year one: three consecutive stock-price surges. Year two: vice president. Year four: the old man had a stroke—and Ethan became the sole president, holding all power alone.

Outsiders whispered about schemes, marveled at his iron-blooded methods in eliminating his father and brothers one by one.

Ethan just smiled calmly and paid them no attention at all.