Billionaire's Betrayal a contracted revenge (Aurelia) novel Chapter 1

Chp 1:The night that turned her heart to steel.

Aurelia’s POV

I swallowed the champagne hastily, it was the only thing keeping me standing in the middle of the ballroom, smiling until my cheeks ached.

“Stop fidgeting,” a low voice rumbled beside my ear. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.

I froze, my hand dropping from where I’d been nervously twisting my diamond wedding band. I looked up at Dawson. Even in the dim, golden light of the gala, he was terrifyingly beautiful. Sharp jawline, dark hair swept back with careless precision, and eyes that looked like shattered graphite. He was wearing the black tuxedo I’d laid out for him, the one that made his broad shoulders look like they could carry the weight of the city—or crush it.

“I wasn’t fidgeting, Dawson,” I whispered, leaning in so the investors nearby wouldn’t hear. “My feet hurt. You’ve had us standing here for two hours.”

Dawson didn’t even look at me. He took a sip of his scotch, his gaze fixed on a business rival across the room. “You’re my wife, Aurelia. Your only job is to stand there and look expensive. If you can’t handle that, go wait in the car.”

The air left my lungs. Two years. Two years of this.

“It’s our anniversary,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to be pathetic. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. You’d acknowledge me?”

Dawson finally turned his head. His eyes swept over me—from the custom silk strap dress that hugged my slim frame to the expensive earrings he hadn’t bought me—and landed on my face. There was no warmth. No spark. Just the cold calculation of a man assessing a depreciating asset.

“I acknowledged you when I signed the check for that dress,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Go find Charlotte. She’s seemingly the only one who knows how to handle herself in public tonight. You’re embarrassing me.”

He turned his back on me before I could respond, immediately engaging in a laugh with a gray-haired banker—a laugh he never used with me.

I felt the sting of tears pricking my eyes and hated myself for it. I spun around, needing air, needing to escape the suffocating scent of expensive perfume and Dawson’s indifference.

I wove through the crowd, spotting the familiar blonde waves of my best friend, Charlotte, near the terrace doors. Charlotte would understand. Charlotte always listened when I cried about how Dawson treated me like furniture.

I moved toward the terrace, my heels clicking on the marble. The heavy velvet curtains were partially drawn, obscuring the balcony from the main hall. I reached out to push the fabric aside, desperate for a friendly face.

“…told her yet?”

I stopped mid-air. That was Dawson’s voice. He must have slipped out the side door while I was walking away.

“I can’t just tell her here, Dawson. It’s cruel,” a female voice replied. Soft. Breathless.

Charlotte.

My blood turned to ice. I pressed myself against the wall, hidden by the velvet folds. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Cruel is keeping me tethered to a woman I can’t stand,” Dawson said. The sound of a lighter flicking open echoed in the small space. “She’s useless, Charlotte. Clingy. Desperate. Every time she looks at me with those puppy dog eyes, I want to retch.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob clawing its way up my throat.

“She loves you,” Charlotte said, but there was no defense in her tone. Just a teasing lilt. “She tries so hard.”

“She tries too hard,” Dawson scoffed. “I married her because the board wanted a stable image. I didn’t sign up for a stage-five clinger.” A pause. “Besides, the situation has changed now. Hasn’t it?”

Silence stretched, heavy and thick. Then, the sound of rustling fabric.

“The doctor confirmed it this morning,” Charlotte whispered. The smile in her voice was audible. “Six weeks, Dawson. It’s a boy.”

The world tilted on its axis. The floor seemed to dissolve beneath my feet.

Pregnant.

My best friend. The woman who held my hand last week when I cried about my fertility struggles. The woman who told me, ‘Don’t worry, Aurelia, your time will come.’

“Finally,” Dawson breathed, his voice dropping an octave, sounding richer, deeper—full of an emotion I had never heard directed at me. Pride. “An heir. A real heir. Not something forced.”

“What about Aurelia?” Charlotte asked. “She’s going to be devastated.”

“Who cares?” Dawson’s callousness hit me like a physical slap. “I’ll cut her a check. She can go back to whatever hole I pulled her out of. I’m done playing house. I want my son, and I want you.”

I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. The rage hit me so fast it eclipsed the pain. I ripped the curtain back, stepping into the cool night air.

Dawson was leaning against the stone railing, his tuxedo jacket discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. His hand was resting possessively on Charlotte’s waist. Charlotte, looking radiant in red, gasped, her hand flying to her flat stomach.

“Aurelia,” Charlotte squeaked, her eyes widening in mock horror.

Dawson didn’t jump. He didn’t look guilty. He slowly straightened, taking a drag of his cigarette, and blew the smoke in my direction. His expression was boring.

“You have terrible timing,” he said flatly.

I stared at them, my hands shaking at my sides. “You’re sleeping with her?” My voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the silence. “My best friend?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Dawson deadpanned, flicking ash onto the balcony floor. “And stop acting surprised. You knew this marriage was a corpse walking. Charlotte just put it out of its misery.”

“We were trying for a baby, Dawson!” I screamed, the sound raw and jagged. “I have been injecting hormones for months! And you… you got her pregnant?”

“Because I actually want her,” Dawson said, stepping forward, looming over me. He was huge, radiating heat and menace. “Look at you, Aurelia. You’re weak. You’re fragile. You honestly thought I’d let someone like you carry the Valerius legacy? You were a placeholder until Charlotte was ready to leave her husband.”

He looked down at me with a sneer that twisted his handsome face into something demonic.

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