Chapter One: The Night i Came Home Early

The rain was falling hard over Manhattan, but I didn't care. 

I was holding the best news of my life.

In my shaking hand, I clutched a small white envelope from the doctor. Inside it was a single ultrasound picture. Two months. I was two months pregnant with Adrian Stone's child.

For three years, I had been Mrs. Adrian Stone. The quiet wife. The faithful wife. The woman who waited at home in his fifty-million-dollar penthouse while he built his empire.

Tonight was our third wedding anniversary. He had promised he would be home by seven. I had spent the whole afternoon cooking his favorite meal. I wore the red silk dress he bought me in Paris, the one he said made me look like a goddess. I lit candles. I wanted to tell him, "Adrian, you are going to be a father."

I took a taxi from the clinic. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest.

"Please, hurry," I told the driver.

When I got to the Stone Tower, the doorman smiled at me.

"Good evening, Mrs. Stone. Mr. Stone came home early. He is upstairs."

Early? My husband never came home early. That should have been my first warning.

I took the private elevator to the 60th floor. My heels were wet from the rain. The ultrasound picture was safe inside my purse.

I opened the door to our penthouse. It was dark. The candles I had set on the table in the morning were not lit. But I could hear voices from his office. His office wall was made of glass. From the living room, you could see everything inside.

I was about to call out, "Adrian, I'm home," when I froze.

He was not alone.

Adrian was standing by his desk. His suit jacket was off. His tie was loose. And in his arms was Vanessa Croft, his executive secretary. The woman everyone at the office whispered about. The beautiful brunette in the tight red dress who always looked at my husband like he belonged to her.

She was pressed against him. Her arms were around his neck. His hands were on her waist, pulling her close. Her lips were inches from his.

Then I watched her kiss him.

It was not a quick kiss. It was slow. Intimate. The kind of kiss a lover gives.

The white envelope fell from my hand.

My world stopped.

I could hear the rain hitting the glass windows. I could hear my own breathing, loud and broken. I could hear Vanessa whisper, "I missed you so much, Adrian. Finally, we're alone."

Adrian didn't push her away. He whispered back, "Not now. Elena could be home any minute."

Elena. That was me. My name in his mouth while he held another woman.

I thought I would scream. I thought I would run in there and tear them apart. But my legs would not move. Tears started to fall down my face before I even realized I was crying.

This was the man I had prayed for. The man I had left my small life in Chicago to marry. The billionaire everyone envied me for. Adrian Stone, the man who had told me on our wedding day, "Elena, you are the only woman I will ever love. I will never betray your trust."

And now here he was, breaking that trust against his office desk.

Vanessa laughed softly and said, "She never has to know. She is so naive, Adrian. She still thinks you work late every night for business."

Naive. That word hit me like a slap.

Was I naive? Was I stupid for believing that when he said he was at a business dinner in Boston, he was really in Boston? Was I stupid for believing that the lipstick I once found on his shirt was from his sister?

I had defended him. When my friends said, "Elena, be careful, billionaire men don't stay faithful," I said, "Adrian is different."

I was wrong.

I finally found my voice. It came out as a broken whisper.

"Adrian?"

He turned. His eyes met mine through the glass wall.

For one second, I saw pure panic on his perfect face. His blue eyes widened. His hands dropped from Vanessa's waist.

"Elena!" he shouted. He pushed Vanessa away so fast she stumbled.

Vanessa turned and saw me too. She didn't look guilty. She looked annoyed, like I had interrupted something important.

"What are you doing home early?" Adrian rushed out of the office, his shirt half-unbuttoned. "You were supposed to be at the spa. I told you—"

I couldn't speak. My hand was on my stomach. Our baby. Our child that was growing inside me. A child he didn't even know about yet.

I looked down at the floor. The ultrasound picture had fallen out of the envelope when I dropped it. It was lying on the wet marble, the tiny black and white image getting soaked by the rainwater from my shoes.

Adrian followed my eyes. He saw the paper.

"What is that?" he asked.

Vanessa picked it up first. She looked at it, and then she smiled. It was not a kind smile.

"Oh my God," she said loudly. "Is this what I think it is? Is this an ultrasound? Elena, are you pregnant?"

Adrian snatched it from her hand. He stared at it. His hands were shaking now, but not from happiness. From shock.

"Elena, is this... is this true? Are you pregnant?"

I finally found my strength. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. My red dress, the dress I wore to please him, felt like a costume for a fool.

"Yes," I said, my voice shaking but loud. "I am two months pregnant. I came home early to tell my husband. To celebrate our anniversary. But I see you were already celebrating with her."

"No, no, Elena, it's not what you think," Adrian said quickly, stepping towards me. "Vanessa and I were just... we were working. It was a late meeting. She was upset about a client. I was just comforting her."

"Comforting her by kissing her?" I screamed. The words tore out of me. "I saw you! I saw you kiss her! Do you think I am blind?"

"Elena, please, lower your voice," he said, looking at the open elevator door. "The staff will hear you. Let's talk about this like adults."

Like adults? He was asking me to be calm while my heart was being ripped out.

Vanessa crossed her arms. "Elena, you are overreacting," she said coldly. "This is how business works in New York. If you can't handle your husband having a female colleague, maybe you shouldn't be a billionaire's wife."

That was it. The final insult.

I looked at Adrian. I waited for him to defend me. To tell her to shut up. To tell her to leave our home.

He said nothing. He just stood there, looking between me and her, like he was deciding which woman was more trouble.

In that silence, I understood everything.

I was not his wife anymore. I was a problem to manage.

I bent down, picked up my wet purse and the soaked ultrasound picture. My hands were numb.

"I am not overreacting," I said quietly. "And I will not stay here to be disrespected in my own home."

I turned to leave. The elevator was still open.

Adrian grabbed my arm. His grip was tight.

"Elena, you are not going anywhere in this rain. You are pregnant. Think about the baby. Think about what people will say."

I looked at his hand on my arm, then at his face. The face I once loved more than my own life.

"Don't touch me," I whispered. "Don't you ever touch me again."

I pulled my arm away and walked into the elevator. I pressed the button for the ground floor.

As the doors closed, I saw them. Adrian standing in the doorway of our penthouse, his face hard now, not sorry. And Vanessa behind him, her hand on his shoulder, smiling at me like she had won.

The doors closed.

I collapsed against the elevator wall and cried. Loud, painful sobs that shook my whole body. The woman in the red dress, crying alone in a golden elevator, holding a picture of a baby whose father had just betrayed her.

When I got to the lobby, the doorman looked at me in shock.

"Mrs. Stone? Are you okay? It's pouring outside."

I walked past him. Out into the Manhattan rain. I had no umbrella. No coat. No place to go. My mother was dead. My father lived in Chicago. I had no one in this cold city.

But I had my baby. And I had my pride.

I stood in the rain, letting it wash away my tears, my makeup, my old life.

"I swear," I whispered to the sky, to my baby, to myself, "I will never be naive again. I will never trust a man again. Adrian Stone, you will regret this night for the rest of your life."

I started walking. I didn't know where. But I knew I would never go back to that penthouse.

Just then, a black Maybach stopped in front of me. The window rolled down.

A man in a dark suit looked at me. He was not Adrian. He was taller. Older. His eyes were grey and cold and beautiful.

"Elena Hart?" he said, as if he knew me. "Get in. You are going to catch a cold. And your husband doesn't deserve your tears."

My blood froze.

How did this stranger know my name?

Hi my loves! Welcome to THE BILLIONAIRE'S BROKEN TRUST ❤️

Elena don suffer for this chapter, but trust me, her revenge go sweet!

If you like am, please add this book to your library and drop a comment — should Elena trust Julian or run away from him?

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Love, Your Author