Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42 Exposing the Liar in Public

“You think you’re smart, don’t you? You think you can just walk in here, act like you own the place, and everyone will forget that

you were nothing but a bed-warmer in a billionaire’s penthouse.”

Sienna slammed the folded tabloid onto the center of the oak table. It hit the wood with a heavy, final sound. Her manicured nail tapped rhythmically against the glossy image of Tristan Johnston’s face. She didn’t look like a boss; she looked like a cornered

animal desperate to bite.

I didn’t reach for the magazine. I didn’t lean in to look at the headlines I already knew by heart. I kept my hands folded over the dark, sensible fabric of my maternity dress. I didn’t let my pulse spike. I didn’t let my breath hitch. I simply looked at Sienna, my

face a mask of iron.

“Is that your strategy, Sienna?” I asked, my voice calm, flat. “You rely on gossip rags to manage your floor? I thought you were interested in operational efficiency. Or was that just another lie you told Eduardo?”

Sienna’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. She leaned over the table, her shadow looming large in the conference room. “Everyone knows what you are. The photographs from the gala are all over the web. They show you for what you are-a delusional mistress who tried to blackmail the CEO and got thrown into the trash where she belongs. You think you can hide here in Port Sterling? You think you can build a career out of this wreckage? You’re a stain, Minerva. And I’m going to make sure the board scrubs you off.”

The words should have hurt. Three months ago, they would have shattered me. I would have felt the sting of the slap, the heat of the humiliation, the crushing weight of being called a “stain.” But the woman who stood in that ballroom and bled for Tristan’s approval had died a long time ago. The woman standing here now only cared about the bottom line.

“My past is irrelevant,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a dangerous, quiet sound. “The performance metrics of this subsidiary are what matter. And last I checked, your name is on the state registry as Director of Operations, not mine. That means when the board looks at the failures, they look at you. And when they look at the success of these new routing maps, they look at

you, too.”

Sienna narrowed her eyes. She clearly thought she had the upper hand, that the tabloid scandal was a lethal weapon that would force me to crawl out of the room. She was wrong. She was operating on sentiment, on petty social warfare. I was operating on cold,

hard reality.

“I’m going to make sure they look at you,” Sienna snapped. She pointed a shaking finger at my chest. “I’m going to tell them you’re a liability. That you’re a corporate spy who can’t be trusted. By tomorrow, you’ll be on the street, and I’ll be back in charge of the maps you were so proud of.”

“You don’t understand the maps, Sienna,” I said, a slow, humorless smile touching my lips. “You don’t understand the supply chain. You don’t understand the cooling units, the fuel costs, or the liability waivers. You couldn’t run this floor for forty-eight hours without the whole thing collapsing.”

We’ll see, she hissed. She turned on her heel and marched toward the door.

She thought she was leaving me behind. She thought the room was a prison. But she was wrong.

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Chapter 42 Exposing the Liar in Public

“Wait, I called out.

Sienna stopped, her hand on the heavy brass handle. She turned, her face twisted in a sneer. ‘What? You going to beg for your job?”

I reached into the leather portfolio sitting on the table. I didn’t pull out a summary or a graph. I pulled out a single, thin file.

“You’re right,” I said. “You’re the Director of Operations. You’re the one responsible for the floor. But there’s a problem with the inventory logs from the northern route last week.

Sienna paused. Her sneer didn’t disappear, but her eyes flickered. “The inventory is fine. The deliveties are consistent.

“Are they?” I opened the folder. “I noticed an anomaly in the weight distribution. Route twenty-two. Your signature is on the sign- off, Sienna. But the vehicle weight at departure was nearly four hundred pounds lighter than the cargo manifest. That’s not spoilage.

That’s theft.

Sienna’s posture changed. The arrogance didn’t vanish, but the air went out of her suit. She took a step back toward the table, her eyes searching mine for a bluff.

“That’s a rounding error,” she said.

“A rounding error worth four hundred pounds of luxury product? I raised an eyebrow. I have the weigh-station logs from the transit point. I have the digital sign-offs. I have the chain of custody. It’s a very clean, very specific discrepancy.”

Sienna’s breath hitched. She looked at the door, then at me. “You’re trying to pin your failures on me?”

“I’m pointing out the rot,” I said. “And the rot isn’t in the warehouse floor. It’s in the office. You’ve been signing off on missing inventory for weeks, Sienna. I think you’ve been working with someone on the inside. Perhaps one of the drivers? Or maybe someone in the boutique accounts?”

Her face went pale. The red flush vanished, leaving her looking sickly and fragile. “You have no proof of that.”

“I have enough to start an audit,” I lied. I had nothing but a few random data points, but I knew how to paint a picture. I knew how to make a board see what I wanted them to see. “I have enough to bring the board down here on a Tuesday afternoon. And I don’t think they’ll care much about my tabloid scandal when they see the money disappearing from their accounts.”

Sienna stood frozen. The power dynamic in the room shifted. She wasn’t the predator anymore. She was just another variable I was

controlling.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

I want the resignation,” I said. “I want you to walk out that door, go to Eduardo, and tell him you’re stepping down for personal reasons. You’ll sign the transfer of management protocols to me. You’ll leave the building, and you will never mention my name, my past, or my personal life to anyone on this board.”

And if I refuse?

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Chapter 42 Exposing the Liar in Public

“Then I walk out of this office and I hand these files to Sebastian Blackwood. I don’t care about my reputation. I don’t care about

the press. But I think you care a great deal about your freedom.”

“You’re a monster,” she breathed.

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