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The Billionaire's Rival: My Sweet Revenge

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 673    |    Released on: 20/01/2026

f and velvet. The city lights of Manhattan sprawled out th

r and walked toward her. He didn't rush. He moved with the c

f intimacy was quick, efficient, and usually

ched out and took the Hermès bag from he

" he murmured.

or two years flared up, hot and bright. She didn't wait for him to initiate.

t wasn't gentle.

around her waist, lifting her off the floor, crushing her against him. He kissed her back with a hunger

. He laid her down on the massive bed, his body cove

he commanded,

arrison was hovering over h

said. "I want to

n," she

calculated to wring a reaction from her. He made her feel things she had convinced herself she w

room was different. It wasn'

-count sheets pulled up to her chin. She felt ex

rm thrown over his eyes. He shifted, turning to look at her.

," he said. It w

d loudly. She flushed. "I

kes?" Harrison scoffed. He sat up and gra

e cheeseburgers. Fries. Truffle aioli. A

ng cross-legged on the million-dollar

urger. It was greasy, heavy, ever

taking a massive bite of his own. "

her mouth. She groaned involuntarily. She ate the whole thing. S

g away the sauce. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. It was such a

ed back

he mask slid back into place

she asked, he

a suite that costs fifteen grand a night until check-out. Bes

ime in two years, she didn't feel alone. An

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The Billionaire's Rival: My Sweet Revenge
The Billionaire's Rival: My Sweet Revenge
“I had spent two years playing the perfect Stepford Wife to billionaire Brittain Kane, acting as the obedient accessory while he built his empire. I played the fool until I found his second phone, the one filled with messages and photos of a nineteen-year-old hostess. Determined to balance the scales, I checked into the Pierre Hotel and spent twenty-five thousand dollars to hire a high-end male escort. I wanted one night of rebellion to wash away the two years of humiliation and finally even the score. But when the heavy footsteps stopped outside my door, the man who walked in wasn't the professional I had booked. It was Harrison Juarez-my husband's most ruthless business rival and supposed "best friend." He stood there in a suit that cost more than my car, holding a screenshot of my scandalous booking on his phone. My blood turned to ice as I realized my carefully constructed exit plan was over. He had the proof, the leverage, and the power to leave me with nothing in a divorce. He mocked my "cheap courage" and told me that sleeping with a hired hand wouldn't hurt a man like Brittain; he'd just pay the guy off and buy me a new car to shut me up. The fear inside me snapped, replaced by a cold, hard clarity. I looked at the man who held my life in his hands and realized he wasn't there to expose me. He was there because he was petty, effective, and wanted to destroy Brittain just as much as I did. "If you really want to make Brittain Kane lose his mind," Harrison whispered, his voice rough against my ear, "you don't need a gigolo. You need me." I didn't hesitate. I reached into my bag, pulled out my husband's black Centurion card, and tossed it at my husband's greatest enemy. I told him to book the most expensive penthouse in the city, because if I was going to ruin my marriage, I was going to do it on Brittain's dime with the one man he feared most.”