My Billionaire Husband's Web Of Lies

aire husband, Killian-the only perso

ve the life-saving funds to his mistress

he left me bleeding in

divorce and discovered our entire marriage was a

n of deceit to ensure I could never

cted years ago and began my plan

pte

ly

erson, that weakness was supposed to be me. I was his anchor, the only person who could tether his chaotic s

sn' t my wo

ossip sites I never read but were sent to me by "concerned" friends. Killian, who once bought an enti

mous for being famous, and my personal high school nightmare. She was the reason for th

llian, was utterly

-made for me, only to see a photo flash across my phone: Killian, his hand possessively on the small of Dallas' s back, her

ride home, the silk of the

we' d kept since we were broke and sharing a single slice of pizza. His texts became shorter, his calls

Killian' s private jet. She "accidentally" mailed a package to our home containing a framed photo of her and Killian, a

e that turned my grief into something cold an

to do w

ntal treatment offered a sliver of hope. It was astronomically expensive, requiring resources and connections only Killian possessed. He had

o that promise like a dro

tment needed to be funded immediately, the equipment secured within seventy-t

. We need the funds

ar the faint sound of a cat meowing in the background, a sound I knew belonged to

ever

son' s Generosity Knows No Bounds: Tech Billionaire Funds Dallas Lu

million pieces, leaving me to dr

ed yes

s, I scrolled through my contacts. My thumb hovered over a name I hadn't dialed in eight years. A number I' d

mbled as I typ

t was a Hail Mary, a despe

minute later,

e where you are.

n my cheek and splashed onto the scree

here he was. Killian. He was at a press conference for the cat sanctuary. He was smiling, a rare, genuine smile I hadn't

een read: A New Leash on Life: Dall

ly thing of Leo' s I couldn't bear to pack away yet. It played a tinny, off-k

tment over a laundromat that always smelled of damp clothes and bleach. Killian was a ghost then, a brilliant, angry boy who h

ching complex code on napkins. I started leaving him leftovers, then offered him my couch whe

ing a portfolio worth billions. Our lives transfor

and glass fortress we now called home. "A real one. Something neither of us ever ha

ding a world for Dallas, a sanctuary for her cats, w

ed from my very soul. I picked up Leo's music box, its ch

text exchange with Killian. My desperate pleas for him to call the

u

mee

t t

proposed to me on a windswept cliff in Ireland, promising me a lifetime of devotion. He had spent it w

two days ago. Leo is getting wor

ver r