The Billionaire's Betrayed Wife My Revenge Rebirth

Asher looked at the blood on my forehead and snapped a photo.

I knew exactly who he was sending it to—Olivia.

Smack!

I slapped the phone out of his hand, yanked him across my lap, and spanked him hard.

Before Hannah could explode, I pointed at the security camera above us.

"I put his coat on him this morning—right under that lens. Kids lie. As his mother, don't I have the right to discipline him?"

I clenched my fist, ready to swing at her next.

Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.

Still, payback came fast.

That night, the bedroom door crashed open.

Four men rushed in and knocked me out cold.

When I woke, I was in an unfamiliar hotel room. Zane's face was black with rage. He grabbed my wrist and nearly lifted me off the ground.

"Are you insane? Who gave you the nerve?"

I thrashed against his grip. The harder I fought, the tighter he squeezed—my wrist felt ready to snap.

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Funny. I've never seen you this worked up over Asher before."

Asher was eight years old. Zane couldn't even name his birthday.

But one spanking, and suddenly he was coming for me?

"Asher?" Confusion flickered across his face, then hardened into fury. "I'm talking about Olivia's photos. You posted them online."

"What does Asher—quit playing dumb!"

Ah.

So that's what this was about.

An afternoon was plenty of time for those pictures to blow up. Young CEO cheats with rising model—the internet ate that stuff alive.

"Oh, those photos?" I smiled. "Didn't they turn out nice? You two sent me bed shots as an anniversary gift. I figured you had no shame left to protect."

"She's your sister!" His eyes blazed red. "The most promising model in the country—and you're destroying her career!"

I was destroying Olivia?

I wrenched free and hiked up my skirt, exposing the gnarled scar tissue on my thigh.

"The agency picked me first. Olivia was jealous, so she dumped a brazier of hot coals on my leg. That's how she 'earned' her shot."

Zane had seen these scars before. The first time, he'd kissed every inch of them.

"That must have hurt so much," he'd whispered, voice cracking.

"Not anymore." He'd held me tight. "Madeline, I swear—it'll never hurt again."

Now he just turned away, irritated.

"How many times are you going to drag up ancient history? You've gotten way too disobedient. Looks like I need to teach you a lesson."

He pinned me down and forced a glass of drugged water down my throat.

As the flush crept across my skin, he stroked my cheek gently.

"Relax, Madeline. Just a few photos. Stay obedient like you used to—no fighting, no competing—and no one else will ever see them."

My limbs went slack. I stared up at him, pleading.

He ignored me completely, dressing me in a crimson robe, arranging my body into pose after pose.

The shutter clicked again and again.

Zane pulled my clothes back on after the last shudder left him, tucked the blanket around me, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Sleep, honey. Good night."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Ten minutes later, Olivia stood at the foot of my bed—flanked by the same four men who'd dragged me here.

"Since you cost me so much, Madeline, I think it's only fair I return the favor." She waved at them. "All of you. At once. Do whatever you want."

My eyes went wide.

The strength I'd barely scraped together was only enough for one scream: "Help!"

The sound hadn't finished leaving my throat when the man on top of me was ripped away and slammed with a punch.

The newcomer's gaze turned ice-cold. "Get out. All of you."

I knew him.