Married To My Ex Husband's Billionaire Brother

Bernice "What the hell are you doing?!" My voice trembled with a mix of shock and fury as I stared at the scene before me. There was Fed, my husband, bare-chested, passionately locked in a kiss with a woman. The woman was Melissa, my own sister, wearing my nightgown, in my bed. "Bernie, weren't you supposed to be at the hospital?" Fed's voice was not his usual composed tone, and it was tinged with the huskiness that comes after sex. He looked at me, then at Melissa, his eyes darting between us as if searching for the right lie to smooth things over. Melissa, on the other hand, seemed eerily composed, her long hair splayed across her shoulders, a smug smile playing on her lips. It was as if she had orchestrated this entire scene to torment me. "Bernice, my dear sister, you're back," she cooed, rising from the bed and adjusting the white silk nightgown of mine as if it were her own. "I came in such a hurry that I forgot to pack. I hope you don't mind me borrowing your clothes."

Bernice As I turned around, the figure of Fed came into view. He stood there, his tall and imposing frame casting a shadow under the lights. His features, usually handsome and chiseled, were etched with severity. His lips were pressed into a hard line, betraying his displeasure. His eyes, those deep blue pools I once adored, were as cold as frost, devoid of any warmth. At the sight of Fed, Melissa quickly masked her malevolence with a visage of distress. Tears streamed down her face, each one a perfect droplet of manipulation. "Fed, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to... to ruin Bernice's dress. I was only trying to help, but I didn't expect her to react like this." Fed's gaze shifted from Melissa's disheveled appearance to me, his scrutinizing look causing a suffocating sensation. He was a man accustomed to control, and any deviation from his expectations would sour his mood. "Bernice, what have you done?" he asked, his voice calm but laced

Bernice I raised an eyebrow, surprised to see him here after our heated argument. Usually he'd disappear for days after we fight, leaving me alone until I'd come crawling back to apologize. But here he was, waiting for me. "Out with Cathy, just having a few drinks." I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. Fed stood up, his expression darkening. "It's late and you come home stinking of alcohol? Don't you know you're a married woman?" I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh, the memory of countless nights waiting for him to come home from 'work' or 'business dinners' flashing before my eyes. "How long did you wait tonight, Fed? An hour? Two?" I threw his own words back at him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've waited for you for years, and you're never home on time. Didn't you remember you were married?" Fed looked taken aback, as if he wasn't used to being challenged. "That's not the point, Bernice. You're a member of the Miller family now. Your actions reflect on u

Bernice Christian looked different from the version from that night, more...intimidating. With the black suit and dark gray shirt he's wearing today, he exudes an aura of taller, darker danger. But none of that matters. What's important is that what happened at the strip club last week should fade into the memories of everyone involved. Not become some kind of lurking threat. He glanced toward me. I immediately held my breath, and then he gave a faint smile. Not one of those polite, distant smiles. He acted as if we knew each other. Hell, no. He recognized me. And he acted like an asshole. What did he mean? Elina suddenly came up next to me, "Come with me." Her face was somber. And I quickly figured out why. Fed was pouring himself glass after glass of brandy. He looked like his self-esteem had been damaged by his father. "Son, your father wouldn't like you sitting at the dinner table drunk." Elina snatched the glass out of Fed's hand. Fed stood up unhappily, "He wo

Christian As I entered Aaron's study, the rich scent of leather and aged wood enveloped me, a familiar yet unsettling aroma that transported me back to countless childhood moments spent in this very room. Aaron sat behind his sprawling mahogany desk, his expression an inscrutable mask as he motioned for me to take a seat across from him. I settled into the plush leather chair, my posture straight and unyielding, a silent declaration of my resolve. The air between us crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken agendas and long-buried resentments hanging heavy in the space. "Christian, my son," Aaron began, his tone deliberate and measured, each word carefully chosen for maximum impact. "Your return as CEO of Miller Corporation is a momentous occasion. But to secure the company's future, I need you to liquidate all your assets and invest the proceeds into the business." I met his gaze head-on, my own eyes unwavering. "I agreed to lead the company, but I won't compromise my fi