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The Billionaire's Wedding Betrayal The Real Heiress Strikes Back Novel Cover

The Billionaire's Wedding Betrayal The Real Heiress Strikes Back

On the eve of her wedding, the true Pruitt heiress uncovers a shocking online confession. Her fiancé has drugged her vitamins with sleeping pills, plotting to let her foster sister take her place at the altar. Driven by greed, he intends to secure her massive dowry before driving her family into bankruptcy. But the schemers have underestimated their target. Knowing their exact plan, she willingly swallows the pills, ready to turn their trap into their ultimate downfall.
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Chapter 2

After all, Catherine and her birth mother had lived under our roof for ten years. My parents were kind-hearted people, and they'd let them stay.

No one expected that kindness would breed such treachery.

Catherine had always believed it was my fault she'd lost her status as the Pruitt family's eldest daughter. That resentment had driven her to this underhanded scheme.

Even after I'd caught them, they'd banked on the fact that the Pruitts were one of the most prominent families in Kingsharbor. They were certain I'd swallow my humiliation to protect the family's reputation.

While I turned all of this over in my mind, our group had already arrived at the door of the bridal suite—the one Desmond had sworn up and down he'd decorated just for me.

The wedding guests trailed behind us, craning their necks for a better look.

The door was kicked open. Inside, Desmond scrambled off the bed in a state of undress, grabbing the suit jacket he'd tossed aside and throwing it over the woman beneath him.

His face darkened like a storm cloud. "What the hell are you doing? There's a limit to wedding-night pranks!"

My mother let out a cold laugh, strode forward, and ripped the jacket away from Catherine's half-hidden face.

"Wedding night? Open your eyes and take a good look—which one of us is the bride?!"

Desmond's hand trembled as he pointed at me, putting on a show of shock. "Catherine? What are you doing here?"

The moment the crowd got a clear look at Catherine's face, the room erupted.

"Isn't that the Pruitt family's fake heiress? What is she doing in the Whitfield heir's bed?"

My father's voice cut through the noise, dripping with contempt. "Apologies for the spectacle, everyone. The woman in that bed is the daughter of our former housekeeper. We raised her in our home for over twenty years, and this is how she repays us—stealing her sister's wedding out of sheer vanity and making a fool of herself for all to see."

Desmond yanked the comforter up to cover Catherine's exposed body, his brow furrowed tight.

"Amber! How long are you going to keep this up?!"

"You overslept and missed the ceremony. Catherine stepped in to save your family's face."

"I had too much to drink and didn't realize it wasn't you. But what's done is done. The wedding night has already happened. No matter what, I have to take responsibility for Catherine now."

"You're both Pruitt daughters anyway. It doesn't matter which one I marry—the partnership between our families won't be affected."

"I know you can't live without me. That's why you brought this whole crowd here, to force a switch."

"Don't worry. Even if I marry Catherine, I can guarantee that the Whitfield heir's position will always belong to our children. Yours and mine."

"There. Satisfied?"

My father's jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheek twitched. "Amber is the Pruitts' only daughter. You sleep with another woman on your wedding day, and now you have the audacity to humiliate her like this?!"

My eyes stung. Tears pooled along my lower lashes, threatening to spill.

My mother pulled me into her arms, her hand trembling against my back. My father stepped in front of us both, shielding us, and turned to me. "Amber, don't you worry. Your father will make this right."

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Every pair of eyes fixed on the couple in the bed was filled with undisguised disdain.

"Did I hear that correctly? The Pruitts are one of the most respected families in Kingsharbor, and the Whitfield heir wants their legitimate daughter to be his mistress?"

"The real Pruitt heiress is tall and striking. The fake one is small and slight. How drunk would someone have to be to mix up his own bride?"

The mockery washed over Desmond, and his frown deepened with displeasure. The look he gave me was the kind reserved for a hysterical woman throwing a tantrum over nothing.

"Amber, this is a minor issue. I've already promised our children the inheritance. If you want to move into the Whitfield estate later, I won't stop you."

"And yet you keep pushing it, dragging all these people here to watch the spectacle. You're being completely unreasonable!"

The sheer self-righteousness on his face was so absurd it startled a laugh out of me.

He'd trampled over me to stage a grand wedding with that fraud, and now he expected me to play the willing mistress. He wanted my future children born in the shadows, illegitimate from their very first breath.

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