The Heiress He Should Never Have Betraye

Theodore looked at my red-rimmed eyes and let out a helpless sigh, reaching out to pull me into his arms.

Nanette, standing off to the side, saw the gesture and cut in immediately, her voice laced with urgency.

"Theodore!"

"Your secretary just called. The client from Italy lands in fifteen minutes. We have to go now!"

Theodore's hand froze mid-air. He pulled it back, a slight crease forming between his brows.

A second later, the crease smoothed out and his expression returned to normal.

He looked at me, his tone flat.

"Serena, the client really is about to arrive."

"Once things settle down, we'll take that road trip to Napa. Just head home for now."

Then he signaled his assistant to escort the business partner back to the hotel.

The two of them walked toward the exit, one after the other. Nanette trailed behind him, the picture of obedience, but the moment she was past me she whipped her head around and pulled a face, her eyes glittering with naked provocation.

I stared at Theodore's retreating back and the words tore out of me before I could stop them.

"Theodore, do you really think I'll just keep waiting for you forever?"

He turned. The look he gave me carried a note of reproach, as if he thought I was throwing a childish tantrum.

"Serena, be good."

"I made you a promise, and I don't break my promises."

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the hotel lobby and watched Theodore shield the top of Nanette's head with his hand as she ducked into the car.

Long after the taillights had dissolved into traffic, I fished out a cigarette and lit it.

My phone buzzed violently. Vera Henson.

"Serena! That ungrateful snake Nanette, does she have a death wish? Check the video I just sent you. Now!"

What followed was a clip filmed inside a movie theater.

The lighting was dim, but I recognized his profile instantly.

His head was tilted toward Nanette, their lips locked together like neither could bear to pull away.

When they finally parted, the hand wearing his wedding band drew her into his chest and stroked the crown of her hair.

A fog rolled across my vision. Everything blurred.

I couldn't tell if it was the cigarette smoke or the acid burning through my chest.

So there was no Italian client. There never had been.

The whole thing was a performance. A script the two of them had rehearsed together.

In seven years, Theodore and I could count on one hand the number of times we'd gone to the movies.

Back when we first got together, he'd been a broke architect whose entire monthly salary couldn't cover the cost of one pair of my shoes. He always said movies were a waste of time. He could use those two hours to chase another project, get one step closer to giving me the life I deserved.

In all those years, we'd seen maybe two or three films, and every single one was a Marvel movie he picked.

Now he was ditching me with a made-up excuse so he could take Nanette to an animated film.

He sat beside her in the dark. Laughed with her. Shared popcorn with her.

And the moment the lights went down, he leaned in and kissed her.

The cigarette burned to the filter. A sharp sting bit into my fingertips, snapping me back.

I crushed it out and answered Vera's call.

"The video's gone viral. Everyone's saying you're so 'generous' you found Theodore a little side piece yourself..."

She didn't finish, but I knew exactly where the sentence was going.

The pampered princess of the Ashworth family, married beneath her station, and now supposedly hand-picking a mistress for her own husband. How deliciously ironic.

Half the social circle was probably laughing at me right now.

I drew a long breath and steadied my voice.

"Don't worry. I'm fine."

I hung up.

Then I dialed Dr. Swanson.

"Move Nanette's mother out of the VIP ward. Disconnect every machine and suspend all medication."

"And one more thing. I need you to find out exactly how far Theodore's sleep disorder has actually recovered."