Seven Years of Lies,The Betrayed Wife's Billion-Dollar Revenge

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Seven years of marriage, and on the day I finally got a positive pregnancy test, I drove to the airport myself to pick up the husband who'd been living in another city for three years.

I waited four hours for Piers Harding. He never showed. But the girl he'd been keeping on the side did.

You're Piers Harding's assistant, right? Don't bother waiting. Your boss wore himself out in the early hours, and he's still overseas catching up on sleep. Just drop me off at the usual spot.

I accepted the role she'd handed me, held out my phone, and let her type in the address of a thirty-million-dollar villa in the suburbs.

The whole drive, she lounged against the leather seat, chatting with her best friend on speakerphone.

"Who says good looks don't matter? That sixty grand on surgery and implants was worth every penny, wasn't it? I've got this CEO wrapped around my little finger!"

"He didn't just give me three fully paid-off condos downtown. There's also a Lamborghini. And the best part? Once I graduate, he's sending me to Harbor City for grad school!"

"He even promised that if I get pregnant, he'll give me even more!"

When her friend pushed back, the girl pouted, smug as ever. "The devoted-husband act is obviously fake. His wife at home is nothing special."

Then, without warning, she aimed her phone camera straight at my face.

"See? Like this woman slaving away for Piers Harding. Past her prime, couldn't land a man if she threw herself at one, right?"

She nudged my shoulder. "Hey, am I wrong?"

I went along with it. Nodded.

Then I let my gaze drift slowly to her face. Christina Winfield. Very young, barely into her twenties.

Polished like a porcelain doll. Sixty thousand dollars well spent, by the looks of it.

She was still talking to her friend, not bothering to lower her voice one bit. "Don't forget, we've known each other for three years!"

"Besides, Piers is into educated women, right? His wife did some combined master's-to-PhD program? Well, when he came to give a talk at our school, he couldn't take his eyes off me the entire time. And that's because I was the top student representative."

Listening to the sweetness dripping from every word, my fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

That was when Piers Harding called Christina Winfield.

"You landed? Why didn't you coordinate with me before you left?"

What caught me off guard was his tone. He sounded like he was talking to a subordinate. Strictly business. Nothing about it suggested he was sweet-talking a mistress.

Less than a minute after the call ended, a phone buzzed again.

This time, it was mine.

Piers Harding's voice came through my Bluetooth earpiece, syrupy and tender, like an entirely different person.

"Hey, babe. Something came up last minute, a meeting I can't get out of. I really can't make it back today."

"Are you home yet? Have you eaten? How's your appetite been lately? When I get back, I'll make you that soup you like..."

But barely ten minutes earlier, another girl's boasting was still ringing in my ears.

"You haven't seen what he's like in bed. Completely different from that cold, untouchable act he puts on. A totally different man!"

A wave of nausea surged up from my stomach.

Not morning sickness. Something deeper than that. A revulsion rising from somewhere in my core.

I pulled out the earpiece and took a long breath.

That was when Christina Winfield shoved her phone in my face. On the screen was a message thread with Piers Harding.

"Hey, sweetie, your boss says to carry my luggage inside. Got it?"

I said nothing. Killed the engine and got out of the car.

I'll admit it was curiosity that drove me. I wanted to see their little love nest for myself.

The moment I pushed the door open, the place hit me with a wave of youthful energy.

Pink everywhere.

Stuffed animals piled on the couch. Anime figurines on every shelf and cabinet.

Instinctively, I looked for traces of Piers Harding. No houseplants, the kind he loved.

No wine cabinet. No cigar wall.

For some reason, I felt a small breath of relief.

The bitter truth was that I could only cling to these scraps of evidencethings he'd been careless enough to leave behindjust to prop up the crumbling illusion that he still loved me.

Christina tossed her coat on the floor by her feet. "Nice place, right? Decorated exactly the way I like it."

My eyes locked onto the necklace resting above her V-neckline. My lips trembled.

"That necklace..."

Christina leaned in, eyes bright. "Your boss is pretty generous, huh? He gave it to me for my birthday. I heard it's super hard to get."

When Piers gave me mine, he told me it was a limited edition. He said he'd only managed to snag one.

Now I stared at the identical necklace around her neck, and suddenly I couldn't tell which one of us was the afterthought.

I turned to leave, and my gaze caught something at the entryway.

A large note was stuck to the wall. My pupils contracted.

It was Christina's class schedule, with several key courses circled in red pen.

Next to it were her exam times, down to the exact hour and minute.

Piers's friends always teased him for being a "daddy husband"the kind who managed every detail of his wife's life.

He kept a list of my food allergies in his notes app. My monthly checkup dates were posted on the fridge. He even organized the pill cases for my family members.

I'd always believed it was instinct born from love.

Turns out it was a hobby.

Being a caretaker at home wasn't enough for him. He had to go out and raise another one.

"Want some?"

Christina ripped open a bag of snacks. "I love this beef jerky! The dining hall at school is awful. Once Mr. Harding found out, he started having the housekeeper make batches of snacks every Sunday night and deliver them to me."

She took a bite. "I just wonder if his wife knows about it."

I stared at the jerky in her hand. My nails dug into my palms.

Of course she didn't know.

I'd even thought Piers was the one who liked them. Sometimes I'd help the housekeeper make them myself.

"Miss Winfield, did you know that Mr. Harding and his wife have been together for seven years?"

"Sure." Christina blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. "So what? It's not like I want to marry him."

"He gives me money and connections. I keep him happy. Everybody wins."

She leaned closer. "Think about ithis wife's at home turning into a frumpy housewife, dealing with groceries and bills all day. What kind of excitement does a man come home to? I'm different. I'm young and gorgeous. He can show me off."

Her eyes lit up. "A little while ago, he took me to this wine-tasting event. Very upscale."

"Know why he brought me instead of his wife?"

I looked at her. I didn't answer.

"Because I'm the one worth showing off." She flipped her hair. "You guys probably don't even know what Mr. Harding's phone wallpaper is, do you? It's me."

"His lock screen, thoughthat's his wife." She clicked her tongue. "Tsk."

"That's men for you. Not a decent one in the bunch. They want the trophy on the outside and the stability at home."

I lowered my eyes. A wave of bitter irony washed over me.

"All right, head on up."

Christina waved me off. "Leave the luggageI'll handle it myself. Thanks, sweetie."

I turned and walked out.

But her words had already lodged in my skull like a splinter, throbbing with every thought.

Seven years of marriage, and I had never once checked Piers's phone.

His wallpaper was me. I'd always known that.

But it had never occurred to me that a woman could live the way Christina didyoung and pretty, and that was enough to justify wedging herself into someone else's marriage without a shred of shame. She'd laid it all out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I felt sorry for her. I felt sorry for myself.

Most of all, I felt sorry for the tiny, unformed life in my belly.

When I started the car, all I could think about was every good thing Piers had ever done for me.

All those things I thought were mine alone. One of a kind.

I was a light sleeper, so he warmed milk for me every night before bed. He kept that up for seven years. He had a recipe folder saved on his phone, filled with nothing but my favorites: when to add the sugar to the sweet-and-sour ribs, how many minutes to steam the crab. He even collected our movie ticket stubs like a lovesick teenager.

How could a man like that not love me?

But he'd done every single one of those things for someone else, too.

He brought Christina meals. He memorized her class schedule just so he could see her between lectures. He took her shopping. He gave her the same gifts he gave me, all to keep her happy.

I blinked hard and swallowed the sting behind my eyes.

Three days later, Piers came home.

Kisses landed on my face one after another, trailing downward.

"Baby, I missed you so much."

His lips pressed against the hollow of my neck. "You've lost weight. Have you been skipping meals because you missed me?"

No one at his company would have believed this was the same man who never cracked a smile in the boardroom.

"I brought you something."

He produced a bottle of wine like a kid showing off a prize. "Your favorite label. I made a special trip to pick it up."

"How about we open it tonight?"

I stared at the bottle.

Every time he traveled for business, he came back with some thoughtful little gift, always exactly what I'd been wanting. I once asked him how he always knew. He told me he'd overheard me mention a bracelet while I was on the phone with a friend, and he'd kept it tucked away in his memory ever since.

But after seeing all those matching "surprises" at Christina's apartment, the wine just made my stomach turn.

Right this moment, was an identical bottle sitting on her counter, too?

His phone rang.

Piers glanced at the screen and silenced it.

It rang again. He silenced it again.

When it rang a third time, I said nothing. I peeled his hand off me and walked to the dining table.

Piers answered the call and stepped onto the balcony. A minute at most. Then he came back and offered a one-line explanation.

"Work stuff. An intern keeps messing things up."

I nodded. "Sit down and eat first."

I was ready to lay my cards on the table. After all, a decision had to be made about the baby sooner or later.

But just as I opened my mouth, his phone buzzed again.

A text this time.

He glanced down, and the color drained from his face. He shot out of his chair like he'd been launched from it.

"What's wrong?"

His voice came out clipped, urgent. "Something came up at the office. I need to head out."

Before he'd even finished the sentence, he was already pulling on his coat, fumbling for his car keys.

I watched his retreating back and spoke up. "Let Josie Parrish drive you. It's late, and you shouldn't be behind the wheel."

Piers nodded without protest.

The door clicked shut. I sat alone at the dining table and let a thin smile cross my lips.

Josie was my eyes and ears.

I wanted to know exactly what Christina was up to, dragging him out in the middle of the night like the place was on fire.

"Kate, that girl is pregnant."

Josie's voice came through the phone, dead serious. "That's why Mr. Harding rushed over. They met at the hospital last night. Now they're having dinner at a private restaurant."

"Are you okay?"

I loosened my fingers. They'd been digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. I forced out a breath that I hoped sounded casual.

"Which restaurant?"

By the time I arrived, they were still inside a private dining room.

The door was slightly ajar, and Christina's voice drifted out.

"Mr. Harding, do you really love your wife that much?"

"She hasn't gotten pregnant after all this time. Have you... ever thought about getting a divorce?"

Silence stretched for a few seconds inside the room.

I stood at the door, fingers white-knuckled around my purse strap.

"Piers, if you two don't get divorced, and she refuses to accept the baby I'm carrying, then what? I'm serious. I want to keep this child."

Piers's voice was heavy with exhaustion. "Christina, stop this."

"I'm not doing anything."

She sounded wounded, aggrieved. "I just don't understand. What is it about her you can't let go of? Didn't you tell me she'd been with someone else back then? If she disgusts you that much, why won't you just divorce her?"

Every muscle in my body locked.

"When you're lying next to her, doesn't it eat at you?"

"Christina."

"Fine, fine, I'll drop it. But are you going to divorce her or not?"

"Not right now."

"Then when?"

Another stretch of silence.

I stood at the door, cold seeping through every inch of me.

I still remembered that night. Piers had called to say he'd been in a car accident and told me to hurry over. I ended up cornered in an alley for nearly an hour. My clothes were torn, but nothing worse happened. In the end, Piers was the one who called the police and got me out. He'd held me and told me it wasn't my fault, that it was okay.

I thought he truly didn't care.

But all along, it had been a thorn buried in his heart.

When no clear answer came, Christina stormed out, her heels hammering the floor like gunshots.

I pushed the door open and walked straight in.

Piers looked up. A flicker of shock crossed his face.

My palm connected with his cheek before the placating hand he'd raised could reach me.

"What you just said. Did you mean it?"

He blinked, and his expression shifted in an instant. "Kate, you're misunderstanding. She and I aren't like that."

"I saw everything, Piers. Are you really going to lie to my face right now?"

The certainty in my eyes drained the fight out of him. His shoulders sagged.

"I... those weren't my real feelings. I was just trying to calm her down. Let me explain. She's pregnant and emotionally unstable. I was afraid she'd make a scene. It was nothing. I didn't mean a word of it."

"Kate, don't you know how I've treated you all these years? That incident was so long ago. When have I ever held it against you?"

"Sweetheart..."

His voice cracked. He reached for me.

"I just wanted a child. She doesn't mean anything to me."

I stepped back.

"Two choices."

I looked him dead in the eye, detached, like a stranger watching from the outside. "Come home with me right now. Call Christina in front of me and end it. Completely."

"Or we meet at City Hall."

The words landed, and panic flooded his face. "Sweetheart! Listen to me. Christina's emotions are all over the place right now. She's carrying a child!"

"You know how badly I've wanted a baby all these years."

"Please. Just give me some time. I'll end things with her, I swear..."

I drew a long breath. "How long?"

"How much time do you need?"

"A month? Two months? Or are you going to wait until she delivers?"

I watched his gaze dart away from mine, and suddenly I didn't want to ask anything else.

I turned around and pushed the door open.

An hour later, I was sitting on a hospital bed in the OB-GYN ward.

By the time I walked out, the sky had gone completely dark.

Josie was waiting at the entrance, a document folder in her hand.

"Kate, these are the Harding Group's financial records from the past three years. Several transfers don't add up. I had someone dig into them. The amounts aren't small."

The day I mailed the divorce papers, Piers came home that very night. He'd been unreachable for seven days, but the moment those papers hit, he appeared.

He saw me packing a suitcase in the bedroom and snatched it out of my hands.

"What do you think you're doing? Where are you going?"

"Seven years of marriage, and you send me a piece of paper?"

I finally looked at him. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Should I have sent you a blessing too? Wished you and your new bride a happy life? A double celebration? Oh wait, divorced and remarried with a baby on the way from the other woman. That's a triple celebration."

"She's just pregnant! I never said I was going to marry her!"

Piers flushed with anger, his voice shooting up an octave. "Kate, I admit I made a mistake, but so what? What man doesn't? I only made the same mistake every man makes. Can't you show a little understanding?"

"Haven't I been good enough to you all these years? Do you really have to crucify me over this?"

"What are you even going to do without me? Have you held a single real job in all this time? Kate, don't be stupid."

By the time he finished, my suitcase was packed.

"You cheated for three years. You kept a whole second family behind my back. So spare me the noble speeches. Every man makes this mistake, so you get a pass? Every dog eats garbage. You want a taste of that too?"

His face turned crimson. His chest heaved.

Then his voice went cold. "Fine. You want to leave, leave. Just don't come crawling back."

There was nothing to crawl back for.

Besides, if anyone was going to regret this, it wouldn't be me.

Two weeks later.

I was browsing new arrivals at a luxury boutique.

I hadn't been there long when Christina appeared, her belly just beginning to show, trailed by an entourage carrying armfuls of shopping bags.

The sales associates smelled money. They swarmed her instantly, gushing compliments.

I tried to turn away, but it was too late.

"Well, well. Isn't this Mr. Harding's little assistant?"

Christina looked me up and down. "You... you shop here?"

Her eyes glittered with open mockery.

"Not bad, sweetheart. You've really cleaned yourself up. The curls, the perfume. Almost tasteful."

I said nothing.

"But seriously, does an assistant's salary even cover one handbag in this place?"

She was on a roll now, waving a credit card between her fingers. "See this? Mr. Harding's supplementary card. No spending limit."

I had no interest in wasting my breath on her. I called a sales associate over to wrap up my selections.

But Christina stepped into my path, blocking me.

"Hey. Tell me. What tricks did you use to seduce Piers?"

"I knew something was off. That custom perfume you were wearing the other day? I've smelled it on him."

The sales associates knew exactly who I was.

They exchanged a quick glance and quietly took a step back.

Christina didn't notice. "I'm his one and only now. Do you understand what that means? You and that wife of his are the same. Washed-up housewives waiting to be replaced. You think you can compete with me?"

"Do you know whose baby I'm carrying? The future Harding heir. When that day comes, someone like you won't even be fit to carry my shoes."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll disappear. Stay away from Piers."

"Christina."

A familiar voice came from behind her.

Piers strode over. "All done shopping? I'll take you home."

His gaze landed on my face. The smile froze.

"W... wife?"

Christina blinked. "What did you just call her?"

Piers couldn't speak.

The color drained from Christina's face, shifting from shock to disbelief.

"You're Kate Gilbert?"

Before she could process another thought, my hand was already across Piers's face.

He turned his head, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"You two deserve each other. Get out of my way."

Piers didn't spare a second thought for the slap. He chased after me immediately.

"Kate, listen to me!"

His hand hadn't even reached my arm before a figure stepped between us, blocking his path.

Florence Fox raised her voice, feigning surprise. "Girl, you're pregnant and wearing heels that high? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Silence.

The next second, Piers's phone slipped from his hand and hit the ground, the screen shattering into pieces.

I glanced at him.

Christina had followed him out, and she'd heard every word. She stood frozen in place, as if someone had nailed her feet to the floor.

"Pregnant?"