Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Confronting The Woman He Chose

The diamond on Celeste’s extended hand caught the light of a hundred crystal chandeliers. The massive stone fractured the glare

into sharp, blinding prisms that stabbed at my eyes. She stood there in her custom white gown, wrapped in the undeniable armor of

wealth and pedigree, waiting for my surrender.

She wanted me to take her hand. She wanted the cameras, the reporters, and the billionaires in the room to witness my defeat.

The ballroom held its breath. The string quartet had transitioned into a soft, sweeping melody, but the music felt distant, drowned out by the rushing blood in my ears. The circle of high-society spectators tightened around us. I felt their judgment pressing against my skin. They wanted a show. They wanted the discarded woman to bow to the new queen.

I stared at Celeste’s hand. I did not move.

“I have nothing to congratulate you for,” I said. My voice sounded hollow, stripped of all warmth.

Celeste lowered her hand. A look of manufactured pity softened her flawless features. She tilted her head, playing the role of the gracious, understanding victor to absolute perfection.

“I understand, Celeste murmured. She pitched her voice to ensure the front row of journalists could hear every syllable. “This is a difficult evening for you. Tristan warned me you might struggle with the transition. It is hard to let go of fantasies. But you must face reality, Minerva. You do not belong here.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. I heard the sharp click of camera shutters from the press pit. They were documenting my

execution.

“I do not want to speak to you,” I said, keeping my gaze level with hers. “I want to speak to Tristan.”

I looked past her shoulder. Tristan stood near the edge of the stage, flanked by two Johnston Group executives and the formidable figure of his grandmother, Evelyn Johnston. He held a glass of dark amber liquid. His posture remained rigid, his broad shoulders tense under the tailored fabric of his tuxedo. He watched the confrontation, yet he made no move to intervene. He stood on his mountaintop and watched me drown in the valley.

I took a step forward, aiming for the gap between Celeste and Victoria Hawthorne. I needed five minutes. I needed to drag him into a quiet corridor, away from the flashing lights and the suffocating scent of white roses, I needed to look into his steel-gray eyes and demand the truth about the promises he made in that quiet courthouse.

Celeste shifted her weight. Her white silk gown rustled against the carpet. She stepped sideways, positioning herself directly in my

path.

“Tristan is unavailable, Celeste said. The sugary sweetness vanished from her tone, replaced by cold authority. He has international investors to entertain. He has a family legacy to uphold. He does not have time to coddle past mistakes.”

“Get out of my way, Celeste.”

5

|||

O

1/2

Chapter 7 Confronting The Woman He Chose

‘Or what?” she countered. She took a half-step closer. The scent of her expensive floral perfume invaded my space. Will you thro a tantrum? Will you scream and cry and prove every rumor about you right? Look around you, Minerva. Look at these people

I did not want to look. I could feel their eyes peeling the dignity from my bones.

“They know what you are, Celeste continued, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper meant only for me. You are a placeholder. You

warmed his bed while my father negotiated the terms of our merger. You were a distraction. A toy. And now the playtime is over

A fresh wave of nausea twisted my stomach. A placeholder. The words echoed in my skull. I thought of the long nights in the hiddyn penthouse, the whispered confessions in the dark, the silver chain resting against my collarbone right now. Was if all a lie? Did he sign the marriage certificate just to keep me quiet while he secured the Whitmore capital?

I refused to accept it. Not from her.

“I will not ask you again,” I said, my voice hardening. “Move.”

I sidestepped her. I shoved past the heavy velvet rope that separated the VIP section from the main floor.

A tall figure materialized in front of me, blocking my path once more.

Julian Whitmore smoothed the lapels of his midnight-blue suit. His lips curled into a predatory smirk. He looked down at me with an expression of profound disgust.

“Is this woman bothering you, sister?’ Julian asked, though his eyes never left my face.

“She is confused, Julian, Celeste sighed, stepping up beside him. She thinks she still has a claim on my fiancé. I was just trying to help her understand her position before she embarrasses herself further.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify