The Price of her Revenge. Billionaire's Regret

The crystal champagne flute trembled almost imperceptibly in Isabella Sterling's hand as she watched her husband of three years across the Sterling Industries charity gala. Marcus Sterling stood at the center of a crowd of admirers, his commanding presence drawing people to him like moths to a flame. At thirty-two, he cut an impressive figure in his custom Tom Ford tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly styled and his aristocratic features set in what the business magazines called his "billion-dollar smile."

That smile wasn't directed at her. It hadn't been for months.

Instead, it was aimed at Victoria Sinclair, Sterling Industries' CFO and Marcus's ex-girlfriend, who stood too close to him in a daring red Versace gown. Victoria's perfectly manicured hand rested on Marcus's arm as she laughed at something he said, her blonde hair catching the light from the ballroom's crystal chandeliers.

Isabella took a small sip of champagne, maintaining her serene expression. A corporate wife must always appear perfectly composed, especially at events like these where photographers lurked in every corner. She'd learned that lesson early in her marriage, along with countless others.

"Mrs. Sterling," a waiter appeared at her elbow with a fresh glass of champagne, "Mr. Sterling asked me to ensure you don't run dry."

She accepted the glass with a gentle smile, though her husband hadn't so much as glanced in her direction for the past hour.

"Thank you, James."

The fact that she knew the waiter's name made him beam. Isabella made it her business to know everyone who worked for Sterling Industries, from the cleaning staff to the board members.

"Will you be attending the children's hospital opening next week?" James asked as he took her empty glass. "The staff always looks forward to your visits."

"Of course. I've already arranged for the toy delivery and-"

Isabella's voice caught as she watched Victoria whisper something in Marcus's ear, her red lips nearly touching his skin.

"-and the entertainment schedule is finalized."

James followed her gaze and his expression softened with sympathy. Isabella straightened her spine, hating that even the wait staff had noticed the change in her marriage. She smoothed down her conservative black Chanel dress, chosen specifically because Marcus had once said it made her look "appropriately elegant."

Everything in her life was chosen to be appropriate, to be perfect, to make his life easier.

She excused herself from James and made her way to one of the ballroom's floor-to-ceiling windows, ostensibly to admire the Manhattan skyline. In the reflection of the glass, she could see herself as others did – petite and elegant, with long black hair swept into a classic chignon, delicate Asian features composed in an expression of serene contentment. The perfect corporate wife.

Three years ago, she'd been so much more.

***

"This acquisition strategy has a critical flaw," she'd said in that first meeting, pointing to the spreadsheet on the conference room screen.

"If you proceed, you'll lose at least thirty percent of the target company's value within six months."*

*Marcus had looked at her then – really looked at her – for the first time. "Explain."*

*She'd broken down the numbers, showing him exactly how the proposed deal would fail. By the end of her presentation, he'd canceled the acquisition, fired his previous advisory team, and asked her to dinner.*

The memory made her chest ache. She'd fallen hard and fast for the brilliant, driven man who could discuss market strategies one minute and make her laugh the next. When he'd proposed six months later, she'd said yes without hesitation, even knowing it meant giving up her own career and disappointing her family.

"Isabella." Marcus's voice cut through her memories. She turned to find him standing behind her, his expression unreadable. Victoria hovered several feet away, a champagne flute dangling from her perfectly manicured fingers.

"The Jacobsons want to discuss their foundation's new initiative. Come."

It wasn't a request. Isabella fell into step beside him, automatically adjusting her stride to match his longer one. As they walked, he spoke without looking at her.

"The Jacobsons are considering a significant investment in Sterling Industries' new tech division. Make sure Sarah Jacobson feels... appreciated."

"Of course." Isabella understood her role. She would charm Sarah Jacobson, learn about her children, her charities, her interests, and use that information to help secure the investment. It's what she'd been doing for three years – smoothing paths, making connections, being useful.

Four hours later, Isabella's feet ached in her Louboutin heels as she stood in their penthouse closet, carefully hanging up her dress. The Jacobsons had committed to the investment, impressed by her suggestion to incorporate their foundation's educational initiatives into Sterling Industries' corporate responsibility program.

Marcus hadn't acknowledged her role in securing the deal.

She changed into a silk nightgown and began her nightly beauty routine, applying expensive creams that promised to keep her looking young and perfect. Through the open bathroom door, she could hear Marcus on the phone in his home office.

"The numbers don't add up, Victoria." His voice was warm, intimate – the way it used to be with her. "Come over tomorrow morning and we'll go through them together. Isabella will be at her charity meeting."

Isabella's hand stilled on her face. Tomorrow was Thursday. She didn't have a charity meeting on Thursdays.

Moving silently, she walked to her private office – a space Marcus never entered – and opened her laptop. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she accessed Sterling Industries' secure servers. As Marcus's wife, she had high-level clearance, though she rarely used it. She'd promised herself she wouldn't interfere in the business after their marriage, wanting to prove she wasn't a threat to Victoria's position as CFO.

But something in Marcus's tone had set off old instincts. The financial analyst she'd once been wouldn't let it go.

Three hours later, she stared at her screen, her face pale in the blue light. The numbers really didn't add up – but not in the way Marcus thought. There were discrepancies in the Asian market expansions, careful manipulations that had diverted millions into offshore accounts. The fraud was subtle, sophisticated, and absolutely deliberate.

And according to the digital trail, it had her fingerprints all over it.

Isabella leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. She'd been careful never to access these particular files before, knowing Victoria guarded them jealously. Now she understood why. Someone had used her login credentials to create a perfect paper trail of embezzlement and fraud. Someone who knew she had the skills to do it. Someone who wanted her to take the fall.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her quickly close the laptop. Marcus appeared in the doorway, his bow tie undone and hanging around his neck.

"Still up?" He didn't wait for her answer. "Don't forget you have your charity meeting tomorrow. I'll be busy with Victoria all day."

Isabella looked at her husband – really looked at him – for the first time in months. The careful distance in his eyes, the slight hardening of his jaw when he said her name, the way he no longer met her gaze. She'd attributed it all to the natural cooling of a passionate romance into a comfortable marriage.

She'd been wrong.

"Of course," she said softly. "I'll be out of your way."

He nodded and left without another word. Isabella waited until his footsteps faded before reopening her laptop. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard for just a moment before she began typing.

It was time to remember who she was before she became Mrs. Sterling. Time to remember the skills that had once impressed a billionaire. Time to understand exactly what her husband and his CFO were planning.

Because Isabella Chen had given up everything to become the perfect wife.

But she'd never agreed to be the perfect fool.