Web of Lie

I was the anchor for my tech billionaire husband, Killian-the only person who could ground his chaotic soul.

But when my brother was dying, Killian gave the life-saving funds to his mistress for a multi-million dollar cat sanctuary.

After my brother died, he left me bleeding in a car wreck to save her.

The final betrayal came when I tried to file for divorce and discovered our entire marriage was a lie, the certificate a carefully crafted forgery.

He had built my world on a foundation of deceit to ensure I could never leave, never have anything of my own.

So I called the one man I'd rejected years ago and began my plan to burn his empire to the ground.

Chapter 1

Emily POV:

They say every monster has a weakness. For the tech world' s most brilliant and volatile monster, Killian Emerson, that weakness was supposed to be me. I was his anchor, the only person who could tether his chaotic soul to the ground. That was the story we told ourselves, the myth that built his empire and my entire world.

Until it wasn' t my world anymore.

The rumors had been swirling for months, whispers in the gilded cages of high society, headlines on gossip sites I never read but were sent to me by "concerned" friends. Killian, who once bought an entire island because I mentioned I liked the color of its sand, was now seen everywhere with Dallas Lucas.

Dallas. The name itself felt like acid on my tongue. She was a social media heiress, famous for being famous, and my personal high school nightmare. She was the reason for the faint, silvery scar on my wrist, a constant reminder of a pain I thought I had buried.

And Killian, my Killian, was utterly captivated by her.

The first public blow was a charity gala. He was supposed to be my date. I waited for three hours in a gown he' d had custom-made for me, only to see a photo flash across my phone: Killian, his hand possessively on the small of Dallas' s back, her head thrown back in laughter. The caption read: Tech Titan Killian Emerson and Influencer Dallas Lucas make a stunning debut.

My debut was a quiet taxi ride home, the silk of the gown feeling like a shroud.

Then came the smaller, sharper cuts. He started canceling our weekly dinners, the one sacred tradition we' d kept since we were broke and sharing a single slice of pizza. His texts became shorter, his calls less frequent. He was a ghost in our sprawling minimalist mansion, his side of the bed perpetually cold.

Dallas, meanwhile, was relentless. She sent me DMs of her wearing my favorite brand of lingerie, tagging the location as Killian' s private jet. She "accidentally" mailed a package to our home containing a framed photo of her and Killian, a ridiculously intimate selfie. Each act was a carefully sharpened knife, designed to twist in the wound of my insecurity.

But the act that shattered everything, the one that turned my grief into something cold and hard and vengeful, had nothing to do with me.

It had to do with Leo.

My younger brother, my bright, hopeful Leo, was dying. A rare genetic disorder was systematically shutting down his body, but a new experimental treatment offered a sliver of hope. It was astronomically expensive, requiring resources and connections only Killian possessed. He had promised me. He held my face in his hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Emily, I will move heaven and earth for Leo. Whatever it takes."

I believed him. I clung to that promise like a drowning woman to a life raft.

Last week, Leo' s doctor called. There was a window, a critical one. The treatment needed to be funded immediately, the equipment secured within seventy-two hours. I called Killian, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.

"Killian, it's time. We need the funds. The doctors said-"

"I'm in a meeting, Em," he'd cut me off, his voice distant, impatient. I could hear the faint sound of a cat meowing in the background, a sound I knew belonged to the Persian kitten he' d just bought for Dallas. "I' ll look at the email later."

He never did.