Betrayed Wife: Claimed By The Ruthless CEO

chest tight with a mixture of dread and reckless fury. The image of Clark's hands roaming over Kelsey Byrd's body in the back

te stood facing the glass, the outline of his shoulders broad and unyielding. Isolde stepped inside, her heart

l, a stranger who could erase Clark's touch f

he said, her voice steadier than she fel

nose. His eyes were dark, piercing, locking onto her with an intensity that made the air in her l

illed her vision, erasing the rest of the room. Isolde's brea

a low rumble, vibrating in

ing to regain control. "I paid fo

he wood. His hand came up, his long fingers wrapping around her chin, tilting her face up to meet

playing with?" he asked, his voice dropping

roma wrapped around her, suddenly triggering a suffocating sense of dread, as if touching a dark, terrifying switch bu

xpensive fabric. She pulled him closer, desperate to overwrite the old me

own, snagging on her collarbone. The silver bracelet resting there, the Mitchell f

ingtone of a cell phon

ward her clutch bag on the side table

gth. He stepped back, caught off guard. Isolde stumbled away from the door, her hip catching the edge of the side table.

mered, her voice crac

e didn't stop. She yanked the door open and fled into the hallway, the sou

look back.

ed whiskey. He looked down at the carpet. A silver bracelet lay there, its clasp broken. He bent down, his fingers closing arou

acket pocket, right against his heart. H

the large man st

d stepped fo

ho that wom

ew mirror. Her makeup was smudged, her hair a mess. The thrill of revenge she had expected never came. Only a

stomach dropped. The main house was ablaze with light. Every window on the ground

ying to slow her racing heart. She had to pull herself tog

with Linda McCoy. The older housekeeper balanced a tra

ing toward the living room. "Your

uined dress. She pasted on a blank

d neatly on the coffee table, was a stack of pastel-colored baby blankets and a set o

's voice was like dry lea

standing. "Wha

n the room, isn't it? Your father's company went under years ago. The Mitchell name is worthless now. A

olde said, her nails

who spends more time at the doctor than the playground. What can she do for

cramped. "What

ng your duties, Clark has found someone who can." Agnes smiled, a thi

ars ago, she had given birth in agony, only to be told her son was dead. And

this house," Isolde said, h

rd Isolde, her posture imposing. "Clark is bringing her here. To live.

his wife. As long as I am breathing, tha

this arrangement, Clark will divorce you. And with that ironclad prenup you signed, you will leave here wi

malice in her eyes, the absolute certainty that she would follow through. Isolde's n

ak door behind her. She wasn't going to stand there and take it. She wa