Married To The Ruthless Billionaire Husband

The morning sun sliced through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting Adaline directly in the eyes.

She groaned, her body aching. She had fallen asleep on the floor. She pushed herself up, her muscles stiff and protesting. She walked into the bathroom, washed her face, and changed back into the dried, wrinkled clothes from yesterday. She needed to get to the hospital.

Downstairs, the atmosphere in the study was volatile.

Ferris stood by the window, looking out at the manicured lawns. His assistant, Alex, stood by the desk, holding a sleek tablet.

"Sir, the background check on Miss Bennett is complete," Alex reported. "She was engaged to Baker Padilla until yesterday."

Ferris turned around. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. "Engaged. So she's not just a gold digger, she's a cheating liar." He slammed his hand against the windowsill.

Alex adjusted his glasses. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag. He placed it carefully on the desk.

Inside the bag was a crumpled, expensive men's dress shirt.

"The hotel cleaning staff found this kicked under the bed in Suite 801 at the Waldorf," Alex said quietly. "It is a custom piece, but the designer tags were forcefully removed. Our analysts traced the fabric weave to a boutique in Manhattan. Sir, this wasn't left by a corporate spy or a hired escort. It's a high-end gift."

Ferris froze. He stared at the shirt in the plastic bag.

His mind violently snapped back to the pitch-black hotel room. He remembered the desperate, terrified thrashing of the woman beneath him. He remembered the hot tears falling onto his hands.

A horrifying realization crashed into his brain.

The woman in the room wasn't an operative sent by his rivals to ruin him. She was an innocent woman. She had brought a gift for someone else. She had simply walked into the wrong room. His room.

And he had destroyed her.

A wave of nausea hit Ferris so hard he gripped the edge of the desk to stay upright. His chest tightened painfully. His breathing turned shallow.

"Find her," Ferris ordered, his voice ragged and hoarse. "Pull every camera. Use every contact. I don't care what it costs. Find the woman who owns that shirt. I will give her half my empire to compensate for what I did. And Alex? Keep a close eye on Miss Bennett's movements. Track her phone. I want to know exactly what kind of mess I'm marrying into."

Out in the hallway, Adaline had just reached the bottom of the stairs. She was walking past the slightly open door of the study.

Her footsteps halted.

She heard Ferris's voice, loud and desperate. Find her. Compensate her. Half my empire.

A bitter chill swept through Adaline's veins. She let out a silent, self-deprecating breath. So, the cold, untouchable Ferris Finch had a true love. A woman he was desperately searching for. A woman he was willing to give everything to.

She remembered how he had looked at her with pure disgust last night, refusing to make a single phone call to save her mother. Because his heart and his resources were reserved for someone else.

Ferris heard the floorboard creak. His head snapped toward the door.

He saw Adaline standing there. The intense guilt in his chest instantly vanished, replaced by a flare of defensive anger. He hated being spied on.

He strode to the door and pulled it wide open. He glared down at her.

"Eavesdropping now?" Ferris sneered, adjusting his cufflinks with sharp, jerky movements. "Keep your pathetic little tricks to yourself."

Adaline didn't flinch. She looked up at him, her eyes completely dead. "I have zero interest in your tragic love life, Mr. Finch."

She turned on her heel and walked toward the front door. Her spine was perfectly straight.

Ferris watched her walk away. Her absolute indifference grated against his nerves. He clenched his jaw, his hand balling into a fist against the doorframe.

Adaline walked out the front doors. Alistair offered to have a driver take her, but she ignored him. She pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber.

She climbed into the backseat of the generic sedan. She looked out the window as the estate disappeared behind the iron gates. Ferris Finch was officially an enemy.

Her phone buzzed. A text from the hospital. Her mother was stable, but the lack of a donor was a ticking time bomb.

Adaline gripped her phone tightly. Her knuckles turned white. She was going to find the donor who backed out. She was going to fix this herself.

The Uber merged onto the highway, speeding toward Manhattan.