The Stoic Billionaire's Secret Family Exposed

uld burn everything down. She lay next to her husband, a monster. A calm, disciplined, preaching monster. She could smell the

ed numbers were the only source of warmth in the room, a stark contrast to the chilled,

ghs. She took a breath, holding it in her lungs until her chest burned, trying to steady the tremor in her hands. This was the schedule. Tuesday. The

ak door ope

pend. He smelled of ozone and expensive, unscented soap. He walked straight to the walk-in closet, unbuttoning his cuffs with precise, mechanical movements. The closet door slid open to

She took a step toward the center of the room,

ded thin, absorbed instantly by t

e muscles defined by hours of gym time she was never invited

ight, E

"But the

his eyes sweeping over her silk gown with the clinical detachment of a doctor inspecting a chart. "My cortisol level

fici

ke a physical blow. She wasn't a w

the humiliation rising in her throat like bile

. He lay down on his side of the bed, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. "Discipline, Ele

the duvet up to his shoulder, creatin

h the cold. She felt foolish, standing there in lingerie that cost more than her

not to let her foot touch his calf. The space between

rhythmic, shallow sound, the result of the breathing exerc

adow from the window grate cast a g

. The clock

ustling softly. She swung her legs out of bed, her feet finding the pl

here Cedrick had discarded

bout corporate espionage. He preached digital minimalism, c

tion light b

l devices. The penalty was financial ruin. Specifically, the immediate cessation of the pay

ed of something ugly in her chest. It wasn

inst her ribs, a frantic, bird-like rhythm. She

tton. The screen lit up

ick's sleeping for

his birthda

ate of his company

to have achieved "spiritual enl

ss. What mattered to him? What w

her of her debt. The day her mother ha

the number

icon clic

overed over the photo gallery icon. She expected to see architectural

pped t

his office his sanctuary, a place of pure, logical thought. He must ha

owned. She

oaded, and the ai

This man was throwing his head back, laughing. His mouth was open, his e

wasn'

in his hair. Julianna Baird. The socialite. The

ngers felt numb, disco

re undeniably his. He was feeding her ice cream. There was chocolate smeared on his prist

swiped

ag. Ye

g Sur, cleansing his spirit of worldly attachments, he was at

the carpet. The thud sounded l

r eyes snappi

, rolling over. His arm flopped out, landing

ng herself against the nightstand.

resumed its rh

ily mocked her. The "Stoic Energy Conservation Protocol." The "spiritual discipline." It

ttled in her stomach

tand. Her hands were shaking so badly she a

ver the table

to the next

he locations, the timestamps. She

of the tablet, removing her fingerprints. She placed it back on the floo

felt heavy, like they

bed back