Married to the Billionaire I Hated

He pried my legs apart and slammed forward hard. The movement was rough-fast and forceful-and it wasn't long before a raspy groan escaped him.

It felt like pure torture. He drove me to the edge for hours, and I could only grit my teeth and hold on. Theodore, I swear one day I'll make sure you feel every ounce of this humiliation I suffered tonight.

It wasn't until the street was deathly quiet and the night completely drowned the city that he finally let me go. Zipping up his pants, he looked refreshed, almost smug, while I lay there in a mess-drained and crumpled like I'd fallen apart.

He tossed his suit jacket over me like it was a courtesy, then drove me straight to the gates of the Reynolds residence. When the security guard saw us, he paused-staring without a word.

Theodore pulled three hundred bucks from his wallet and shoved it into my hand, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"For the clothes," he said, "If it's not enough, call the Sterlings. My mother would be thrilled to host you. Feel free to name your price."

His car sped off down the road with a roar and vanished into the night.

I shot a sharp glare at the security guard who was gawking at my exposed legs, forcing myself to stand tall and act like I was above it all, even though every step was a struggle on my way back to the house.

By that time, it was past 2 a.m. Everyone at home was already asleep. I went straight to my room, wrapped my arms around a photo of my foster mom, cried into the silence, and eventually fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the sound of someone pounding on my door startled me awake. The banging was wild, like they meant to knock the whole door down. I dragged myself up and opened it, only to be met with Isabella's tear-streaked face glaring at me.

She scanned me from top to bottom before screaming, "Natalie! You vile bitch!"

Before I could react, she shoved me to the floor. The jacket slipped open, revealing my torn clothes underneath-my skin now a map of bruises and glaring red marks.

Isabella dashed at me, yanking at my hair with everything she had. I finally snapped out of it and fought back, and that's when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway-Vivian and Hubert appeared at the same time.

Without even asking what the hell was happening, Hubert charged up and slapped me across the face-hard. My cheek instantly swelled, the pain a burning sting that made my eyes water.

"Natalie, even if you hate me, Isabella is your sister! How could you do something so disgusting?!" Vivian clutched Isabella with trembling arms, sobbing like I was some monster, while Hubert pointed at me, red with fury.

"You've got no shame at all! He's your sister's fiancé! Are you really so bitter that you can't stand to see her happy?"

I took a shaky breath, spat out the blood pooling in my mouth, and glaring at Vivian's fake-innocent, pitiful act, I let out a cold laugh.

"Can't stand to see her happy? She should be thanking me. If it weren't for me, Theodore wouldn't have called. You'd never have gotten the chance to meddle and set her up with him. If Madame Sterling and Mr. Sterling hadn't pressured him, do you really think he'd give her a second look? Keep dreaming."

Back then I was dumb enough to try to get back at him by scrawling Vivian's number on the back of that three-hundred-dollar 'thank you' note. That backfired perfectly, giving her the perfect opening to work behind my back.

Her schemes made Madame Sterling think Isabella was the one involved with Theodore. And considering how powerful the Sterlings are in Southveil, Hubert jumped at the chance to push the engagement.

With both Vivian's plotting and public opinion adding fuel to the fire, the Sterlings finally confirmed the engagement.

Mr. Sterling Sr. had always favored his most capable grandson, promising that as long as he produced a great-grandchild soon, he'd consider naming him the heir to the Sterling Group.

With such a massive fortune dangling in front of him, Theodore didn't care who he married. The person didn't matter-only the result did.

And he never denied nor clarified anything, for a very simple reason-it was all just part of his revenge on me.

That day he brought his mother to the Reynolds household, it became crystal clear that I was no longer welcome there. I wasn't about to let Vivian and Isabella pull off their scheme so easily. Theodore probably figured he could even use me to teach them a lesson.

In a way, I kind of handed Isabella the engagement on a silver platter.

Vivian's face froze. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Swear on your conscience if you dare."

"That's enough!" Hubert was livid, his face darkening as he pointed at me and roared, "Get out! I don't have a disgrace like you for a daughter!"

I let out a low chuckle, grabbed the photo of my late adoptive mother from the nightstand and turned to leave. Hubert called after me, his voice cold and sharp, "Don't show your face at the Reynolds–Sterling engagement. If you mess this up, I guarantee you'll regret it."

Seriously, with a tone like that, it didn't sound like a father talking to his daughter. I didn't bother responding and just walked away.

I moved into a rental apartment and never stepped foot in the Reynolds house again. I didn't tell Grandpa anything, and Hubert wasn't dumb-he must've kept the news of me leaving completely under wraps.

After work today, I was planning to meet Lucille. But my manager, Oliver Hatcher, suddenly stopped me and insisted I go with him to meet a client and finalize a deal. He promised me a generous commission if it went through.

I texted Lucille to wait for me at the restaurant we were heading to. I figured I'd join her as soon as the contract was signed.

We went to a fancy lounge that had a private room with a Japanese-style setup. Oliver ordered food and drinks, then sat on the tatami with me while we waited.

I couldn't help but think this client sure knew how to make an entrance. If Oliver weren't with me, I'd be pretty nervous, no lie.

He gave me a casual smile and poured me a drink. "Here, have a sip. Patience is part of being in sales, y'know. Clients like this one-nothing new."

I took the glass and glanced at him, a bit hesitant. Oliver might look young for his mid-thirties, but in our department, he was known for being all smiles on the outside and ruthless behind the scenes. I've caught heat from him plenty over the past two years. But today, his attitude felt weirdly chill-too nice, honestly.

He threw me a sideways look. "What? Think I slipped something in your drink?"

I mentally rolled my eyes, but to save face, I took a couple sips and set the glass down. He didn't say anything more and just drank by himself.

That put me at ease, at least for the moment.

A while later, he stepped out to take a call. When he came back, he was with a man in a suit. I didn't recognize the figure at first, but as soon as he sat down, my stomach dropped.

Round face, greasy combover, chunky arms and a belly like a barrel. He sat down and gave me a slow once-over, then patted Oliver on the shoulder. "Nicely done."

It was Graham Sullivan-the same guy Vivian tricked me into meeting last time. Rumors painted him as some high-flying thirty-something CEO with a billion-dollar company.

In reality? Total scam. Seeing him in person exposed all the lies. Vivian was ruthless-handing me over to a sleaze like him? She really wanted to ruin me.