The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

The Pierre Hotel was the epitome of old-world New York glamour. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the hundreds of guests sipping champagne.

Jocelyn entered through the service entrance.

She wasn't wearing a gown. She wore a simple black dress under her work blazer. Her left hand was heavily bandaged in white gauze. She clutched the thick folder of documents against her chest with her right hand.

She felt like a crow in a cage of peacocks.

She scanned the room. It didn't take long to find him.

Kieran was in the center of the ballroom, holding court. He was laughing, his head thrown back. Beside him, Aspen Schneider preened. She wore a silver gown that clung to every curve, flashing a diamond ring on her finger that caught the light like a beacon.

Jocelyn took a deep breath. Just get it over with.

She walked through the crowd. People parted for her, not out of respect, but out of confusion. She didn't belong.

"Mr. Douglas," she said when she reached him.

Kieran turned. His smile vanished instantly. His eyes raked over her outfit with disdain.

"You're late," he said coldly. "And underdressed. This is a black-tie event, Jocelyn."

"I'm not here for the party," Jocelyn said flatly. "Here are the merger files."

She extended the folder.

Kieran didn't take it. He swirled his drink, looking bored. "Put them on the table over there. I don't want to hold them."

Aspen turned then. Her eyes lit up when she saw Jocelyn. It wasn't a friendly light; it was the predatory gleam of a cat spotting a wounded mouse.

"Jocelyn! Darling!" Aspen squealed.

She lunged forward, enveloping Jocelyn in a fake, perfumed hug.

"We missed you in Paris!" Aspen coos, pulling back but keeping her hands on Jocelyn's arms. "It was magical."

Jocelyn stepped back, trying to disengage. "Hello, Aspen."

Aspen's gaze dropped to Jocelyn's bandaged hand. "Oh no, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Kitchen accident," Jocelyn muttered.

"You poor thing!" Aspen exclaimed loudly. Heads turned nearby. "Let me see."

Before Jocelyn could react, Aspen grabbed her injured hand with both of hers.

"Aspen, don't-"

Aspen smiled sweetly, looking directly into Jocelyn's eyes. And then, she squeezed.

She dug her manicured nails directly into the burn under the gauze.

Jocelyn gasped. A sharp, white-hot bolt of agony shot up her arm, blinding her for a second. A wave of nausea crashed over her, and the glittering ballroom momentarily swam out of focus. She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead.

"Aspen, let go!" Jocelyn hissed through gritted teeth, trying to pull away.

Aspen held tight, her grip like iron. "But I'm just worried! You need to be careful, Jocelyn. You're so clumsy."

Kieran watched, sipping his drink. "Aspen is being nice, Jocelyn. Don't be rude."

The pain was unbearable. It felt like fire was eating her skin.

Jocelyn yanked her hand back violently, a reflex of pure survival.

Her elbow struck a passing waiter's tray.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass cut through the ambient chatter like a gunshot. Champagne sprayed everywhere-over the waiter, over the floor, and over the hem of Aspen's silver dress.

The ballroom went silent. The music seemed to stop.

Aspen gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in a perfect performance of shock. "Jocelyn! Are you drunk?"

Kieran stepped forward, his face darkening with rage.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

Jocelyn stood amidst the broken glass, clutching her throbbing hand to her chest. She looked around. Hundreds of eyes were staring at her. Judging her.

She was the villain in their story. The clumsy, bitter ex-girlfriend causing a scene.