Her Vicious Romeo

For five years, I was the loving Mrs. Clayton, enduring painful fertility treatments to give my husband, Bronson, the heir he deserved. He was my rock, my protector since a college hazing incident left me barren.

Then I overheard the truth from behind his study door.

Our marriage was a sham, never legally filed. He' d had a vasectomy before our wedding. It was all an elaborate lie to protect Bridgett-his childhood love and the very woman who orchestrated the assault that destroyed my future.

He wasn't my savior. He was her accomplice, and I was just his compensation. Every gentle touch, every reassuring word, was a performance.

He thought I' d never find out. He thought I' d always be his devoted, clueless wife.

But when his precious Bridgett harmed my sick brother, my grief turned to ice. I smiled sweetly, played the part of the forgiving wife, and began gathering the evidence that would burn their entire world to the ground.

Chapter 1

Elodie POV:

I stared at the fertility clinic brochure, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of a hopeful mother' s belly. This was it. The complex procedure I was about to undertake, a desperate bid to carry a child.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Clayton," the insurance agent on the phone said, her voice flat. "Your husband isn't listed as a dependent on your new policy. The system shows no valid marriage certificate on file."

"Sometimes," she continued, "these things happen with older, shall we say, 'informal' filings. Would you like us to look into it? It might be a bureaucratic oversight, or perhaps... something more."

My heart skipped. Bronson? An error? Impossible. He was meticulous. "No, thank you," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "It must be a mistake on my end. Bronson handles everything perfectly."

Five years. Five years I' d been Mrs. Clayton. Five years I' d lived with the quiet ache of infertility, a cruel legacy from a college hazing incident that had stolen so much more than just my peace.

Bronson had been my rock, my protector. He' d shielded me from his family' s relentless pressure for an heir, always whispering, "Your health comes first, Elodie. We'll find another way."

But I knew the truth. His family' s legacy. His name. I would do anything for him, even endure this painful journey, hoping to finally give him the one thing I couldn' t naturally provide.

My phone buzzed, vibrating violently against the glass tabletop. An unfamiliar number, but the urgency in the ring tone sliced through my thoughts.

"Elodie? It' s Anner. You need to come to the estate. Clifton... he's furious. Bronson is being dealt with. It's bad." Her voice was a tight, panicked whisper.

My breath hitched. Bronson? What could possibly warrant his father's wrath? I grabbed my keys, the brochure forgotten on the table, my mind racing.

The Clayton estate loomed, a fortress of old money and unspoken rules. Its grand, iron gates swung open with a slow, grinding groan, swallowing my small car whole.

Before I even stepped inside, the shouts reached me, muffled but sharp, echoing from the study. Clifton' s booming voice, then Anner' s pleading tones, and finally, Bronson' s low, tense replies.

"Bridgett!" Clifton roared, the name hitting me like a physical blow. "All this... for Bridgett!"

Bridgett. The name alone curdled my stomach. Her sneering face. Her manipulative smiles. The girl who always seemed to orbit Bronson, a shadow I had long learned to ignore.

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp. My legs felt like jelly, rooted to the spot outside the closed study door.

"I had to protect her, Father!" Bronson' s voice was raw. "You know why. Her father… what he did for ours. I owe her."

"An old debt!" Anner cried, her voice cracking. "A debt of friendship, not a lifelong leash! Her father's business acumen helped Clifton establish this empire, yes, but that doesn't mean we sacrifice our own for his daughter's depravity!"

"It' s more than friendship, Mother," Bronson countered, the weariness clear in his tone. "It' s a promise. A sacred trust between families."