No Heir For The Cheating Billionaire

Cleveland's black Lincoln Navigator was stuck in traffic on Central Park South. He tapped an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel, his mind still replaying the humiliation of the board meeting. He glanced out the window, his eyes sweeping over the facade of the private club.

And then he saw her.

Hadley. Seated at a corner table, leaning in close to a man in a sharp suit. The man-Julian-was smiling, sliding a business card across the table to her. The gesture was professional, but their posture, the shared intensity, looked intimate.

A hot, possessive rage surged through Cleveland's veins. It was primal and absolute. The feeling of his territory being invaded.

A horn blared behind him. The light was green.

He wrenched the wheel, pulling the SUV out of traffic and screeching to a halt in the no-parking zone in front of the club. He threw the door open and stormed inside, ignoring the doorman's protest.

He saw them in the corner. He strode over, grabbed Hadley's arm, and hauled her to her feet.

"Hey!" she cried out, coffee sloshing over the rim of her cup.

Julian was on his feet instantly, his expression sharp and protective. "I suggest you let go of your wife, Mr. Jacobson."

"Stay out of this," Cleveland snarled, his eyes fixed on Hadley. "Finding a replacement already? You work fast."

"It's a business meeting," Hadley said through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice down, acutely aware of the eyes on them.

He wasn't listening. He wrapped an arm around her waist, a grip of steel, and half-dragged, half-carried her out of the club. He shoved her into the back of the Navigator and climbed in after her, slamming the door. The privacy screen slid up, encasing them in a suffocating, leather-scented prison.

"Driver, Jacobson Tower. Now."

He tossed a heavy, custom gift box onto her lap. "Put this on," he commanded. "You're coming with me to the family dinner in the Hamptons tonight. And you will smile, and you will act like the perfect, loving wife."

"I'm not changing in the car," she said, her voice trembling with rage.

The drive to the office was a silent, tense battle of wills. When they arrived in the private underground garage, she snatched the box and got out, stalking toward the CEO's private elevator.

She stepped inside, taking a deep breath to calm the frantic beating of her heart. Just as the doors were about to slide shut, a hand adorned with a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet shot out, stopping them.

Seraphina stepped in, a triumphant smirk on her face.

She flicked her hair back, a deliberate gesture to expose a faint red mark on her neck. A mark from last night.

Hadley didn't scream. She didn't cry. She calmly reached out and pressed the red emergency stop button.

The elevator jolted to a halt between floors. Seraphina gasped, stumbling against the wall, her smugness instantly replaced by fear.

Hadley stepped toward her, her voice dangerously quiet. "You think you're winning a prize," she said, her eyes like chips of ice. "But you're just a temporary amusement. You keep provoking me, and I will make sure every door in this city closes to you. I will make your name a punchline at every dinner party from here to Greenwich. Do you understand?"

She pressed the button again. The elevator resumed its smooth ascent. When the doors opened on the executive floor, Hadley walked out without a backward glance, leaving a pale, shaken Seraphina standing alone.

In the private bathroom of Cleveland's office, Hadley stared at her reflection. The woman in the mirror was wearing a stunning, ridiculously expensive gown. She looked like a doll. A possession. She felt a surge of disgust and whispered to her own reflection, "His touch feels dirty."