After His Betrayal, I Inherited The Empire

Malia Martin had just returned from her annual leave when she found a dismissal email from the HR Director waiting for her at the office. She approached Kellen Rodriguez, the HR Director, for confirmation. “My employee ID is 003. Are you sure I'm being let go?” she asked. Kellen wore a forced smile. “The company’s performance this year hasn't met expectations. You, as the project lead, took a week off to holiday in Greece. How's that fair to all the staff working overtime? How does that justify the company’s investment in you?” Malia replied with a dry laugh, “Seventy percent of the company’s success is due to my efforts. You're trying to cut off the main artery here!” Kellen smirked.

Chapters

Chapter 1

Kellen wore a forced smile. “The company’s performance this year hasn't met expectations. You, as the project lead, took a week off to holiday in Greece. How's that fair to all the staff working overtime? How does that justify the company’s investment in you?”

Malia replied with a dry laugh, “Seventy percent of the company’s success is due to my efforts. You're trying to cut off the main artery here!”

Kellen smirked. “Malia, the company can run without anyone. You're overestimating your importance!”

With a casual wave, Malia walked away. He didn't understand that without her leveraging her family resources to fill in the gaps, this shaky start-up wouldn’t have survived long.

Malia's trip to Greece was personally approved by Yahya Watson. Yahya recognized the tough three years she'd put in and had given her a week off to unwind. "I'll cover your travel costs and accommodation. Plus, here’s $2,500 for shopping—buy whatever you like!" At the time, Malia felt appreciated, believing she had judged his character correctly.

Returning from vacation, she was blindsided—the employee with ID 003 was laid off. Kellen's tone softened slightly. “Malia, we're all professionals here. You understand what's happening.”

Malia grasped the underlying message. Yahya must have agreed to this, or Kellen wouldn't dare proceed. Swallowing her dissatisfaction, she inquired, “What about my year-end performance bonus?”

Kellen glanced down slightly and said, “Malia, you’re putting me in a tough spot. The company’s achievements are a team effort. You were just the face of the project. You’ve been earning the highest salary, with most bonuses, driving an SUV, and wearing designer clothes. Your colleagues have long had grievances. If we hadn’t been managing their discontent, you’d have been sidelined a long time ago. It’s unreasonable for you to take all the major benefits while others barely make ends meet.”

Listening to Kellen, Malia felt a mix of amusement and anger. The company had grown from a small operation with just a few people to over two hundred employees. At least 60-70% of the projects over the past three years were initiated and completed by her independently. Now that the business was stable, were Yahya and his team looking to cast her aside now that they had reaped the benefits?

“If I leave, who’s going to handle the SONDER project for Blue Mar?” she asked.

Kellen chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“As for the severance package,” he added, “the company will ensure you receive everything you’re owed.”

Malia smiled, “Oh, should I be thanking the company for its great generosity?”

“I’m not accepting this dismissal,” she gestured toward Kellen, “but you’re out!”

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I watched Grace's hands tremble as she tore open the envelope, her breath held in that fragile moment between hope and disappointment. The morning light streamed through our kitchen window, catching the dust motes that danced around us in our small Kentucky home—a home that had witnessed twenty years of my silent endurance. "I got in, Mom!" Grace's voice broke with excitement as she waved the acceptance letter. "Lexington College offered me a partial scholarship!" My heart swelled with pride even as anxiety knotted my stomach. I knew what was coming—had lived it before in that other life that sometimes felt like a half-remembered nightmare. I crossed the worn linoleum floor and wrapped my arms around my daughter, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, feeling her vibrate with joy against me. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," I whispered, meaning every word. The weight of foreknowledge pressed against my chest. In my previous life, this moment had been the beginning of our end. Not this time.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.1

After His Mistress Poisoned Me, I Planned My Escape

8.1

The Manhattan sky hung like slate above the cemetery, heavy with unshed rain. I stood at my mother's graveside, my black dress absorbing the chill that seeped through the October air. The mourners—New York's elite, gathered in their funeral finery—formed a somber half-circle around the fresh earth. I had arranged every detail of this service with the same precision I brought to everything: white roses, my mother's favorite hymn, a eulogy that captured her grace without revealing her private struggles. For once, I had done something that was solely mine, not an extension of Conrad Morrison's perfect socialite wife. But then I saw it—a flash of scarlet cutting through the sea of black. My breath caught as Billie Cooper stepped out from behind the crowd, her red cocktail dress a deliberate wound against the mourning. She clung to Conrad's arm, her crimson lips curved into a smile meant only for me. The whispers began immediately, rippling through the crowd like wind through dry leaves. 'She's wearing *red* to a funeral?' 'A widow's funeral, no less...' 'Conrad's new...' I felt their eyes on me, waiting for the perfect wife to crack.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.8

Betrayal Cost a Child's Life

8.8

The door swung open, and there he was—my Austin, my husband of three years, his tall frame silhouetted against the hallway light. My heart leapt as it always did at the sight of him, but something was wrong. His expression was strained, and he wasn't alone. "Austin?" I stepped forward, my arms already reaching for him. "You're home early. I thought your Seattle meetings would run through tomorrow." He didn't move into my embrace as he usually would. Instead, he gestured behind him, where a petite woman with wide, doe-like eyes stood clutching a small overnight bag. "Esmeralda, this is Keyla Tucker," Austin said, his voice oddly formal. "She saved my life during the crisis with the Westlake merger." I froze, my arms still outstretched. "Your life?" "The building was being evacuated.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

Divorce Amidst Revenge

9.0

I'd been married to Clayton for three years, but what did I get in return? Damaged hands, a heart full of grievances, and a body beyond repair. It wasn't until Arabella woke up that I discovered my husband had once been her boyfriend. Clayton married me purely out of spite. Yet, strangely, now that I'm at death's door, he seems more affectionate than ever. By the time I arrived at the hospital, my sister was awake. Her bedside was crowded with people, including Clayton. "Arabella, you're finally awake, dear." "It's such a relief that you're awake." "Where's my sister?" Arabella glanced around but didn’t see me. Her face was pale, her brow slightly furrowed, and as soon as she spoke, Clayton's expression tensed up. I tried to find my voice.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.4

Falling For My Father's Best friend

8.4

A fresh out college mess decided to have a few harmless drinks before going to see her father. Well, a very irresistible stranger wasn't so harmless so why not risk it. Little did she know that he was someone close to her father. Her father's best friend. *********** “Tell me what you want,” he demanded. “You,” I gasped. “Harder. Please.” He gave it to me. Relentless. Possessive. One hand pinned my wrists above my head; the other gripped my hip, angling me exactly how he wanted. “You’re mine tonight,” he said against my throat, teeth grazing skin. “Say it.” “I’m yours,” I breathed, lost in him.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

My Husband Couldn't Forget His First Love

9.0

The crystal chandelier above the Whitman family's dining table cast harsh shadows across the mahogany surface, making the elaborate Sunday dinner feel more like an interrogation than a family meal. I sat rigidly in my designated chair—always the same one, always positioned where I could serve but never quite belong—watching David's mother, Michelle, cut her prime rib with surgical precision. "Ava, dear," Michelle's voice sliced through the air with the same sharpness as her knife, "I was just telling Mrs. Pemberton at the club yesterday about your... background. She found it so quaint that you're from Michigan." The word 'quaint' dripped from her lips like poison honey. I forced my hands to remain steady as I reached for my water glass, the ice clinking against the crystal in the sudden silence. "Michigan has its charms," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. Michelle's laugh was as cold as the marble floors beneath our feet. "Oh, I'm sure it does. Simple pleasures for simple people. But you understand, don't you, that our family operates on rather different standards?" My chest tightened. Across the table, David's sister Chloe smirked, her fork poised mid-air like she was watching a particularly entertaining show. David himself remained absorbed in his phone, his thumb scrolling endlessly through messages, completely oblivious to the verbal daggers being thrown at his wife. "Mother," I heard myself say, the word feeling foreign and bitter on my tongue, "I've been trying my best to—" "Oh, darling, I know you have." Michelle's interruption was swift and merciless. "But trying and succeeding are two very different things, aren't they? Some people just don't understand our family's standards. It's not your fault, really. You simply weren't raised with the proper... foundation." The room felt like it was shrinking around me.

Billionaire Modern Romance

After His Betrayal, I Inherited The Empire

Chapter 1

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