The Billionaire's Caged Wife I Found Love After You

He saw the suitcase in my hand, and his expression darkened. "Cheryl, what are you doing?"

He closed the distance in one stride, and I caught it immediately — the scent of another woman's perfume clinging to him.

I didn't answer.

He grabbed my wrist. "I'm talking to you. Answer me."

"Packing my things. Going home." I tried to pull free, but his grip only tightened.

"Home?" Bertram let out a cold laugh. "You have no one. No family, no connections. Where exactly would you go without me?"

He released me and tossed a document onto the table. "Read it. Then settle down and play the role of Mrs. Edwards like you're supposed to."

I opened the document, and my blood ran cold.

Bertram had relocated my parents' graves to Harbor City — without my knowledge, without my consent.

My voice shook. "Bertram, have you lost your mind?"

"Those are my parents' graves. What gave you the right to move them?"

He leaned against the wall, a lazy, taunting smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I haven't lost anything. Your parents are here now. So where exactly do you think you're going?"

Something inside me snapped. I grabbed the ashtray beside me and hurled it at his head. "You're insane!"

It struck his temple. Blood appeared instantly.

The pain turned his amusement to fury.

He stormed forward, seized my wrist, and dragged me toward the stairs. "Fine. Let's go. I'll take you to the cemetery myself. You can tell your parents to their faces that you'd rather send them to hell than stay."

I fought him with everything I had, screaming. "Let go of me! What did you do to my parents?!"

Bertram stopped. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You want to know? I'll show you."

He shoved me into the car and sped toward the outskirts of the city, toward the old temple.

When we arrived, he led me deep inside to a side hall. On a stone altar sat my parents' memorial tablets.

The moment I saw them clearly, my entire body went rigid.

The tablets were pinned beneath a slab of black iron carved with curses. Pale, ghostly lanterns flickered around them.

"You're a monster." My legs gave out. Tears streamed down my face, my voice breaking. "You're absolutely deranged."

Bertram wrapped an arm around my shoulders, but his tone softened, as if comforting a child.

"All you have to do is stay by my side. Then none of this has to be a problem."

"Stop crying. Today is my mother's birthday. You're coming with me to the banquet, and you will not upset her."

The car turned toward the Edwards family estate. Bertram glanced at me. "When we get there, keep your mouth shut. Grit your teeth and bear it. Don't make my mother angry."

My mind was still back in that temple, still on those tablets. I couldn't have cared less what Bertram was saying.

The Edwards estate was lit up like a palace, draped in silk and celebration. Tamara Edwards sat in the seat of honor, surrounded by a flock of young women from Harbor City's most prominent families.

She had never accepted me. Not once in five years. In her eyes, Bertram deserved a wife from old money — someone who could give him heirs with the right bloodline.

As for pushing other women into Bertram's bed, she'd done it so many times I'd lost count.

Bertram had been raised by his mother alone. His devotion to her was absolute — bordering on blind.

We walked into the main hall. Tamara's gaze swept over me and dismissed me in the same breath. She only addressed her son. "Bertram, come sit with me."

He pulled me forward with him. He wished her a happy birthday, and I murmured the same. "Happy birthday, Mom."

Tamara didn't so much as look at me. She held Bertram's arm and gestured to the young women flanking her. "These girls are all very accomplished. You should spend some time getting to know them."

The insult wasn't even veiled.

Bertram nodded. "Of course, Mom."

With Tamara's blessing, the women descended on our table like sharks scenting blood.

They exchanged glances, then circled me with wine glasses raised.

"Mrs. Edwards, it's your mother-in-law's birthday. You're not even going to have a drink?"

"What's the matter — are you unhappy that we're here, or do you just not care whether she lives to see another year?"