Betray Me Watch Your Billion-Dollar Empire Crumble!

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Three years into my engagement with Ethan Vance, he became the most famous billionaire in America.

He claimed to be a germaphobe who couldnt stand the touch of women.

Once, I accidentally brushed against his sleeve, and he not only threw the entire designer suit away but also showered three times.

I thought he was like that with everyone. Until today, when his Maybachs dashcam automatically synced to my cloud storage.

On the screen, the man who claimed to despise physical contact was gripping his ex-girlfriends tiny waist, kissing her passionately in the backseat.

Ethan ripped her expensive silk dress. The woman gasped breathlessly,

"Ethan, what if your fiance finds out? Won't she make a scene?"

He sneered, his voice dark and raspy. "Shes like a dead fish. Boring. How could she ever compare to you? Just touching her makes me sick."

I watched the screen. No tears, no screaming. I just calmly pressed Enter on my keyboard.

And injected a lethal self-destruct virus into the core code of the autonomous driving AIthe very code I had spent three years of blood, sweat, and tears writing for him.

Ethan, since you dared to betray me, let's see if you can afford the price.

"Stella, run a bath for me. I need to wash up."

Late at night, Ethan returned home. As usual, he ordered me around like a servant.

I sat in the shadow of the living room, where the lights were off, and didnt move.

He casually threw his damp jacket onto the sofa without throwing a single glance my way, walking straight to the bar to pour a glass of water.

I could clearly smell a faint, sweet trace of tuberose perfume on him. It was Bianca Reeds favorite scent.

The laptop screen in front of me glowed with a ghostly blue light. Frozen on the screen was a snapshot of him in the garage half an hour ago, pinning Bianca against the steering wheel, kissing her like crazy.

For the past three years, to accommodate his so-called "germaphobia," I had always kept my distance.

How pathetic that I was only finding out nowhis germaphobia was highly selective. It only applied to me.

"Ethan." I closed the laptop, my voice sounding strangely loud in the empty room.

He froze mid-pour, then turned around. "Why are the lights off? It's pitch black."

He walked over, looking down at me. He pulled a cheaply made charm bracelet from his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"I went to a business meeting today and picked this up for you. Stop complaining about my germaphobia."

I looked at that cheap piece of junk. Suddenly, the image from the dashcam flashed through my mind. He had just hand-fastened a twenty-million-dollar ruby necklace around Bianca's neck.

"My darling deserves the absolute best. Stella Brooks is nothing but a useful tool." That was what he had whispered to Bianca.

A wave of intense nausea surged from my stomach.

I stood up, ignoring the bracelet, and looked directly into his deep eyes.

"Lets call off the engagement."

Ethan narrowed his eyes, studying me before letting out a soft, mocking chuckle.

"Stella, who taught you to play these hard-to-get games?"

He slowly pulled out a wet wipe, thoroughly wiping the fingers that had just touched the bracelet, as if he had contaminated himself.

"If this is about me coming home late tonight, there's no need for this drama. Bianca's depression flared up, and she tried to slit her wrists. I only went to the hospital out of basic humanity."

He tossed the used wipe perfectly into the trash can, his tone flat, without a single ripple of emotion.

"Don't joke about marriage. If you wanted my attention, congratulations, you got it. Tomorrow, I'll have my assistant order a custom gown for you. You'll accompany me to the Tech Summit next week."

"Consider it compensation for your wild imagination tonight. Don't push your luck."

Looking at his hypocritical face, I felt nothing but disgust.

Over the past three years, I had stayed up until dawn countless times writing code. Whenever I begged him to watch a movie with me, he always excused himself, saying he had to prepare for the company's IPO.

Now, suddenly, he was willing to make time.

"I'm not going."

"The engagement is off. Tomorrow morning, I will contact my lawyer to revoke Vance Enterprises' free access to all AI patents under my name."

Ethan finally lost his patience.

He slammed his glass down onto the marble counter with a heavy thud.

"Since youre not in a state to listen to reason, stay home and reflect. When youve cleared your head, call me."

He turned toward the door. "Im staying at the Westside Villa tonight to get some peace."

At the doorway, he paused and muttered to his assistant outside, "Go buy her a cake."

The front door slammed shut, and the roar of his sports car faded into the heavy rain.

Half an hour later, the assistant, drenched, rang the doorbell holding a pastry box.

"Miss Brooks, Mr. Vance went out of his way to buy this to cheer you up."

I didnt take it.

Ethans notes on his phone made it crystal clear: every time Bianca had an episode, she needed cake to calm down.

Even his way of comforting me was copied from his habits with another woman.

"Throw it away," I said, shutting the door.

That night, Ethan didnt go to the Westside Villa.

At 2:00 AM, I saw a photo posted on Biancas Instagram.

In the photo, Ethan was wearing his black silk shirt, leaning against the headboard of a five-star hotel bed, holding a steaming bowl of soup for her.

The caption read: [Even if the whole world abandons me, my god will still descend from his heaven for me.]

The next morning, I took an Uber to a law firm downtown.

Separating my core patents and revoking the prenuptial agreement was a tedious process.

I sat in the conference room for five hours straight, checking every single line of code and patent I had once handed over out of love.

When I signed the final revocation letter, a sharp pain shot through my chest. My vision went black, and I almost collapsed onto the desk.

Over the last three years, to keep up with Vance Enterprises' IPO timeline, I had worked day and night. My severe tachycardia was the direct result of that endless grind.

Terrified, the lawyer quickly called a ride and sent me straight to the high-end private hospital owned by Vance Enterprises.

The VIP cardiology suite on the top floor was a private sanctuary Ethan had publicly reserved for me during last year's annual gala.

Clutching my chest, I dragged my heavy legs out of the elevator.

But just as I reached the corner of the hallway, two hulking security guards in black suits stepped in front of me.

"Miss Brooks, were sorry. Mr. Vance ordered that no one is allowed to disturb them."

Leaning against the cold marble wall, I gasped for air. Through the half-drawn blinds of the ward, I saw everything.

Ethan was sitting by the bed, carefully peeling an apple with a silver knife.

Beside him, Bianca had a thin layer of gauze wrapped around her wrist. It wasnt a suicide attempt at all; it was barely a scratch.

She leaned weakly against Ethans shoulder, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Ethan, I had a nightmare last night. I dreamed you left me. I was so scared..."

Ethan set the apple down, draped his designer suit jacket over her shoulders, and pulled her into his chest, resting his chin on her hair.

"Don't worry. Im not going anywhere. Ill be right here."

His voice was so tender it could melt ice. That was a warmth he had never once shown me.

Suddenly, the door opened. Ethan walked out with an empty thermos, intending to get hot water.

He bumped straight into me.

Seeing my deathly pale face and bloodless lips, his brows knitted into a tight, irritated knot.

He didn't ask why I looked so ill. He didn't even notice my hand clutching my chest in pain.

"Stella, are you really trying to steal a hospital room from Bianca now?"

He lowered his voice, his tone dripping with disgust and accusation.

"Bianca has severe depression and can't handle any stress. Youre perfectly healthywhy do you have to fight a sick person for attention?"

"This jealous, clinging act of yours is getting ugly."

The pain in my chest made it hard to breathe, let alone argue.

I clenched my teeth, staring at the gradient-colored thermos in his hand.

It was a limited-edition piece I had waited in line for three hours to buy him last winter. It had been kept in this room for my use. Now, it belonged to Bianca.

Seeing my silence, Ethan assumed I was feeling guilty.

He signaled his assistant in the distance.

"Take Miss Brooks downstairs to the general ER to queue up. And grab a cashmere blanket from my car for her. Don't let her stand here making a scene."

The assistant returned quickly, holding a white Herms cashmere blanket, and offered it to me.

"Put it on," Ethan said, looking at me with a condescending pity. "Once Bianca falls asleep, Ill take you out for that sushi you love."

I looked down at the blanket.

The strong scent of tuberose perfume hit my nose. It was obvious who had been wrapped in this blanket in the backseat of his Maybach last night.

Ignoring the agony in my chest, I walked past Ethan step by step toward the medical waste bin at the end of the hall.

I let go.

The expensive cashmere blanket fell perfectly into the yellow bin labeled [Infectious Waste].

Ethans face darkened instantly, the veins on his temples throbbing with rage.

I turned around. I didnt take the elevator. Holding onto the cold handrail, I walked down the stairs, step by step, leaving the top floor behind.

Behind me, Ethan's voice hissed with venom. "Stella Brooks! If you walk out of this hospital today, don't you dare crawl back begging for my help ever again!"

I didn't look back.

I spent the entire night on oxygen in the emergency room observation ward.

The next morning, I ripped the IV needle out of my hand and took a cab straight to the Vance Enterprises headquarters.

The global launch of the [Stellar-Drive AI System] was scheduled for tomorrow morning.

This was Vance Enterprises' golden ticket to entering the billion-dollar electric vehicle market.

Over the past three years, to stand by his side as an equal, I had hidden my identity as his fiance. I had worked as the chief engineer, leading my team through countless sleepless nights and writing millions of lines of code to perfect this system.

It was my life's work as a master software architect.

I walked to my desk to back up the final data.

But as I stepped out of the elevator, the massive LED billboard in the lobby made me freeze.

Where it once read: [Stellar-Drive AI Chief Architect: Stella Brooks]

It now read: [LunaTech Chief Architect: Bianca Reed].

I pressed the button for the top floor and kicked the CEO's office door open.

Ethan was sitting in his large leather chair, signing documents.

Bianca sat on the Italian leather sofa nearby, browsing seasonal high jewelry on an iPad.

Hearing the noise, Ethan looked up. Seeing it was me, he set his Montblanc pen down.

He walked to the bar, poured a warm glass of milk, and slid it toward me.

"Drink some milk first. You look terrible. Did you stay up throwing another tantrum last night?"

His tone was gentle, carrying a suffocating sense of entitlement.

"I was actually about to call you about the name change and the credits."

"Stella, youre going to be my wife. Everything Vance Enterprises owns will be half yours in the future. Why get worked up over a silly title?"

"Biancas depression is very severe right now. Her therapist said she needs a strong social identity and a sense of achievement to rebuild her confidence."

"Just look at it as a charity case to save her life. Give her the credit. Everyone in the industry knows how good you are anyway; you don't need this one title."

Bianca put down her iPad, walked over to wrap her arms around Ethans, and looked at me timidly, her eyes turning red instantly.

"Stella... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to steal your hard work. I've just felt like life is so pointless lately. Ethan said this project would help me find my value. If you mind, I'll give it back to you right now..."

Ethan held her hand, patting it reassuringly. Then, he slid a black Amex card toward me.

"Take this no-limit black card. Go buy that Porsche youve wanted for a long time. Consider it my compensation. Be good, and don't make a scene in the office."

I didnt touch the milk, nor did I look at the black card.

I just stared at this man, watching him trample all over my hard work just to feed another womans vanity.

"Fine."

I nodded, without saying another word. I turned and walked out of the office.

The moment the door closed, my fingers brushed against the cold metal of the micro-USB drive in my pocket.

The tech empire I had spent three years building for him would become the first tombstone of Vance Enterprises tomorrow.

The annual Tech Summit and Charity Gala was held at the Park Hyatt in the city center.

Dozens of tech media and financial channels were livestreaming the event.

For the past three years, Ethan had demanded that I dress modestly and stay out of the spotlight.

Tonight, I wore a backless, pure black designer gown. With my hair pinned up and bold red lipstick, I looked as sharp and cold as a blade.

Holding a glass of champagne, I stood by the edge of the circular balcony on the second floor, looking down coldly at the fake smiles below.

When the gala reached its peak, Ethan went up to the stage to deliver his keynote speech.

Bianca stood right beside him, wearing a white mermaid gown, looking like a proud swan.

As she reached up to adjust the microphone, her wrist caught the brilliant light, flashing a deep blue.

I saw exactly what it was.

It was my late fathers last bequesta rare, limited-edition Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon.

Two weeks ago, Ethan had taken it from me, claiming he was sending it to a master Swiss horologist for maintenance.

Now, it was on Biancas wrist, serving as her latest trophy.

After the speech, Ethan went to mingle with the crowd. Bianca, holding a glass of red wine, walked straight toward the champagne tower where I was standing.

She stopped half a meter away from me. Nearby, cameras began to drift toward us.

"Stella, this black dress really doesn't suit you. You look like a widow who just lost her husband," Bianca whispered, her voice too low for anyone else to hear.

She raised her wrist, stroking the Patek Philippe watch mockingly.

"This watch is beautiful. Ethan said only my elegance could match it. Leaving it with you is just a waste of a masterpiece."

I stared at her and took a step back, widening the gap between us.

"Why are you backing away?" Bianca suddenly shrieked.

She lifted her glass, her body suddenly leaning forward, and threw herself directly into the massive champagne tower beside us.

Her wrist slammed hard against the solid glass base.

With a sharp crack, the sapphire glass of the watch face shattered, and the delicate gears spilled across the floor.

The champagne tower collapsed, sending glass shards flying everywhere.

Bianca used the momentum to fall right into the pile of broken glass, her arm getting sliced by several small shards.

"Ah! It hurts!"

Clutching her bleeding arm, she looked up at me in terror, tears streaming down her face like broken pearls.

"Stella! I know you're mad at me for taking the credit for the AI system, but why did you push me?! You know my depression can't handle this!"

The crowd gasped.

Everyones eyes and dozens of high-definition cameras locked onto us instantly.

The crowd was roughly pushed aside, and Ethan rushed out like a furious beast.

He took one look at the blood on the floor and the shattered watch, then ripped off his suit jacket to wrap a trembling Bianca tightly in his arms.

He stood up slowly, stepping right in front of me, his eyes terrifyingly dark.

Slap!

Without any warning, a heavy blow landed on my cheek.

The force of the slap whipped my head to the side, and the metallic taste of blood burst in my mouth.

The flashbulbs went wild. Ethans hands gripped my shoulders so hard his knuckles turned white.

He twisted the heavy platinum ring on his finger, his eyes, usually so cold, now burning with pure rage.

"Stella Brooks, did you leave your manners in the gutter? You know how fragile she is, yet you pushed her! How can you be so vicious?"

He commanded, his voice heavy with undeniable pressure: "Kneel down. Apologize to Bianca. Don't make me say it twice in front of the press."

I didn't shed a single tear.

I wiped the blood from my lip with my tongue, tasting the iron.

Then, I reached out and grabbed a broken champagne bottle neck from the table beside me.

Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, I drove the jagged glass deep into Ethan's left shoulder.

The glass tore through his expensive white shirt, sinking deep into his flesh.

Blood sprayed instantly, splashing across Bianca's pale, horrified face.

"Ah!" Bianca screamed like a dying pig.

Ethan let out a sharp gasp of pain, his eyes wide. His grip on my shoulders loosened instantly. He stared at me in disbelief, as if he didn't recognize the woman standing before him.

I pulled a thick manila envelope from my purse and slammed it hard against his perfect face.

Inside were the bank records and signed documents proving Ethan had used my AI patent royalties to purchase three luxury villas overseas for Bianca.

The papers scattered like snow, falling around the guests feet.

I slipped off the diamond engagement ring that represented three years of my wasted youth and threw it onto the red carpet like trash.

"Ethan Vance, you played the clean germaphobe for so long, did you actually start believing you aren't filthy?"

I looked at his bleeding shoulder and spoke, my voice echoing clearly through the entire hall.

"Take your trash and rot in the gutter."

I turned, stepping over the glass in my high heels, and walked out of the gala without looking back.