Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109 Rejecting Her Fifty Million Bribe

I stood by the wide windows, looking down at the waking capital city. The morning sun offered a harsh, blinding glare against the

steel skyscrapers. It felt like a spotlight aimed directly at the wreckage of the legacy families.

Diego Morales sat at my dining table. He spread six different morning newspapers across the smooth surface.

Every single front page featured the exact same photograph.

It was a file image from a gala last winter. Tristan Johnston and Celeste Whitmore stood side by side on a red carpet. Tristan looked

stoic, his jaw set in a hard line. Celeste wore a bright smile, her hand resting on his arm, the heavy Johnston diamond flashing on

her finger.

The headlines screamed in bold, black text.

THE ROYAL WEDDING OF THE CAPITAL: HEIRESS CELESTE WHITMORE ANNOUNCES SPRING NUPTIALS.

“She initiated the media blitz at four in the morning, Diego reported. He tapped the thickest newspaper. “She paid triple the standard rate to clear the front pages. She bought digital billboard space across the financial district. The official date is set for the

second week of May. Five months from now.”

I walked over to the table. I picked up a paper and studied Celeste’s frozen, printed smile.

“She is terrified,” I observed.

“She is trying to build a cage out of public opinion,” Diego agreed. He pulled up his digital tablet, scrolling through real-time analytics. “She wants to trap him. She knows if the entire city expects a wedding, backing out will cause a massive hit to the

Johnston Group stock. She is forcing his hand.”

“Where is Tristan?” I asked.

“Missing,” Diego said. He looked up, his dark eyes serious. “He skipped the morning executive briefing. He ignored a direct summons

from Harriet Montgomery. The Johnston internal communications channel is in absolute chaos. His grandmother sent a private

security team to his penthouse two hours ago. He refused to open the door.”

“What is he doing?” I pressed.

“He is tearing his own intelligence division apart,” Diego answered. “My contacts inside his firm say he fired his lead investigator at

midnight. He demanded raw data from every charity hospital in Port Sterling. He wants intake logs. He wants shift schedules. He is

hunting your ghost, Minerva. The man is not sleeping. He is bleeding out.”

I dropped the newspaper back onto the table.

Tristan was unraveling. The guilt and the desperate need for the truth were eating him alive. He stood in the cold outside my

building, begging for answers. Now, he isolated himself, ripping the city apart to find the proof I refused to hand him.

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Chapter 109 Rejecting Her Fifty Million Bribe

Celeste saw the cracks forming. She watched the man she intended to marry lose his mind over another woman. She panicked. She

threw millions of dollars at the press to create an illusion of control.

‘Pack the files, I instructed Diego. “We have a company to run. Let them tear each other apart.”

We drove to the Aegis headquarters. I spent the first three hours of the morning locked in meetings. I reviewed supply chain

logistics for our new European distribution centers. I approved marketing budgets. I forced my mind to process numbers and

contracts.

I built a fortress of work to keep the image of Tristan’s broken, desperate eyes out of my head.

At noon, Chloe knocked on the glass door of my executive suite. She stepped inside, looking tense.

“Miss Hayes,” my assistant began. She gripped her clipboard tight. “Security just flagged a visitor in the private underground/garage.

She refused to use the main lobby. She arrived in an unmarked town car.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Celeste Whitmore, Chloe answered.

I leaned back in my leather chair. The heiress lacked an entourage. She lacked the flashing cameras she loved so much. She came to

the center of my territory alone.

“Send her up, I commanded. “No security escort. Let her walk the hall by herself.”

A few minutes later, the heavy glass door opened.

Celeste stepped into my office. The confident, glowing woman from the newspaper photographs did not exist. She looked frayed. The perfect blonde waves were pulled into a tight, severe knot. She wore a dark, heavy coat. Her makeup failed to hide the dark, bruised circles under her eyes. She looked like a woman standing on the edge of a sheer drop.

She closed the door. She walked toward my desk. Her hands shook.

She did not say a word. She opened her designer handbag. She pulled out a sleek leather checkbook and a silver pen. She placed

them on the glass surface.

She scribbled a number, signed her name, and ripped the slip of paper free, She slid the check across the desk.

I looked down. Fifty million dollars.

“Take it,” Celeste demanded. Her voice cracked. It lacked the usual arrogant sneer. It sounded thin and desperate. “Take the money.

Pack your bags. Take the boy. Leave the country today.”

I picked up the check. I held it between my fingers, studying the ink.

“You are spending a fortune to buy a man who does not want you, Celeste, I noted. I kept my voice calm, a stark contrast to her

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