Marrying My Cheating Ex's Billionaire Boss

Alena dragged her suitcase out of the JFK arrivals terminal. The biting November wind whipped against her neck, forcing her to pull the collar of her trench coat tight against her skin.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb hovering over the power button. She couldn't wait to hear Darrin's voice.

The screen lit up. Instantly, a barrage of notifications flooded the glass. Fifteen unread messages. The rapid, sharp pings vibrating against her palm made her stomach tighten.

She tapped the top message from her best friend. It was a link marked urgent.

The webpage stalled for a fraction of a second. Then, a massive, high-resolution photo loaded onto her screen.

The air vanished from Alena's lungs.

It was the grand ballroom of The Plaza Hotel. In the center of the frame, her fiancé, Darrin, was kissing a woman. He was holding her face, his eyes closed in deep devotion.

The woman was Katrina. Alena's older sister.

Alena's fingers began to shake. The tremor started in her wrists and violently traveled up her arms. She tapped Darrin's contact and pressed call.

The phone rang once before a cold, automated voice informed her she had reached his voicemail.

The last shred of hope in her chest snapped.

She spun around and stepped into the street, throwing her hand up. A yellow cab screeched to a halt. The driver took one look at her pale, bloodless face and hesitated.

Alena didn't speak. She ripped a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet and threw it onto the passenger seat.

The cab lurched forward, crawling through the brutal Manhattan rush hour. Outside the window, the neon lights of the city blurred into sharp, stinging streaks of color.

Her mind raced, flashing back to just a week ago when Darrin had held her hands, looking deeply into her eyes and promising her a lifetime of loyalty. The memory of his soft, assuring voice now felt like a serrated blade sawing against her ribs. How long had this been going on? How long had Katrina been smiling at her across the dinner table, playing the supportive older sister, while secretly sleeping with the man Alena was supposed to marry? Katrina had always competed with her-for their parents' attention, for the best grades, for the spotlight-but this was a level of cruelty Alena couldn't comprehend. The sheer magnitude of the betrayal suffocated her.

Tears finally spilled over her eyelashes, hot and fast, burning her cold cheeks.

When the cab stopped, Alena shoved the door open. The Plaza Hotel loomed above her. The heavy glass revolving doors were pushed open by a doorman.

The faint, elegant sound of a cello drifted out from the lobby. It sounded like a dull blade scraping against her eardrums.

She lifted the hem of her coat and walked toward the grand ballroom. Two security guards in dark suits stepped into her path, blocking the entrance.

"Invitation, please," one of them said.

Alena stared at his chest. "I am Alena Payne. The second daughter of the Payne family. Get out of my way."

The guard's eyes widened slightly. He stepped aside.

Alena pushed the heavy, carved wooden doors open. The blinding light from the crystal chandeliers hit her eyes like a physical strike.

She blinked through the pain. The room was dripping in wealth. Champagne towers, orchids, and hundreds of New York's elite.

She walked straight through the crowd. People turned to look at her, their eyes filled with shock and thinly veiled disgust.

Alena's spine went rigid, but she kept her chin high, forcing her legs to keep moving.

She stopped at the edge of the main stage. She tilted her head back. Darrin and Katrina were standing there, a massive tiered cake between them.

Alena opened her mouth, but her throat felt like it was packed with broken glass. No sound came out.

Katrina saw her first. The delicate, blushing smile on her sister's face froze. Katrina took a quick half-step back, hiding behind Darrin's shoulder.

Darrin followed her gaze. When his eyes locked onto Alena, a flash of panic hit his face, instantly replaced by a wall of ice.

He frowned, his jaw ticking as he marched down the steps to block her view of Katrina.

"Three years," Alena choked out, her eyes burning red. "What was all of this, Darrin?"

Darrin leaned in, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "Don't make a scene here, Alena. Don't embarrass the Payne family."

The coldness in his words froze the blood in her veins.

Katrina lifted her couture gown and hurried down the steps. She reached out, her face twisted in fake sympathy, trying to grab Alena's hand.

Alena felt a surge of nausea. She violently slapped Katrina's hand away.

Katrina gasped. She threw her weight backward and collapsed onto the thick carpet with a dramatic cry.

The entire ballroom went dead silent. Every eye turned to them.

The crowd parted. Darla, Alena's mother, rushed forward. Darla's perfectly contoured face twisted with pure rage when she saw her eldest daughter on the floor.

Darla didn't ask a single question. She didn't even look at Alena's tears.

Darla raised her hand and slapped Alena across the face.

The crack echoed through the room. The force of the blow snapped Alena's head to the side. A sharp, metallic taste flooded her mouth. Blood pooled in the corner of her lips.

Alena pressed her hand to her burning cheek. Her ears were ringing. She stared at the woman who had given birth to her.

"You jealous, spiteful girl," Darla hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Trying to ruin your sister's happiness because you can't handle your own failures."

The words hit Alena right in her chest, crushing her lungs.

She looked at Darrin. He was standing there, watching her with dead eyes. He reached down and gently helped Katrina to her feet, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

That single movement killed whatever love Alena had left for him.

Alena slowly lowered her hand from her face. She wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her thumb. She looked at the three of them with eyes that felt completely hollow.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry anymore. She let out a dry, hollow laugh.

"A bitch and a dog," Alena said, her voice eerily calm. "You deserve each other."

Darla gasped. The Payne family elders in the front row began to murmur in outrage. Darla shot a look at the security guards.

Two men in suits stepped forward to grab Alena's arms.

Alena violently jerked her shoulders away. "Don't touch me."

She turned her back on them. She kept her spine perfectly straight, walking toward the heavy doors like a soldier leaving a battlefield.

The second she crossed the threshold into the hallway, the cold air conditioning hit her face.

Her strength vanished. Her knees gave out, and she slammed against the wall to keep from falling.

Her stomach violently cramped. She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran to the nearest restroom. She leaned over the porcelain sink, dry heaving until her ribs ached, but nothing came up.

She turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto her face.

She looked at her reflection. Her cheek was a swollen, angry red. Her eyes were dead.

Alena turned away from the mirror. She walked out of the restroom, through the grand lobby, and pushed the glass doors open.

She stepped out into the freezing November rain. The downpour swallowed her instantly.