THE BILLIONAIRE SECRET TWIN HEIR

Twenty-seven. That number ricochets through the hollow caverns of my mind while I rummage through those crammed plastic bags in my arms in search of my house keys. Not that I'm old but I'm not young, either, especially in Elizabeth Walton's utopia where women my age ought to have at least produced two heirs by now. I shifted the weight of the birthday decorations to my hip and finally fished the keys from my purse. Silver and gold streamers peeked out from one bag, along with the custom cake topper I'd ordered weeks ago. Michael had been so consumed with the Masterson merger that I'd decided to handle my birthday celebration: a small and intimate dinner, just the two of us. To connect back. After he had forgotten why we fell in love with each other, an infinite number of pregnancy checks and families became their close affairs. The house was in silence upon entering my home, with sunlight cutting through tall windows creating elegant lines across the marble floor that echoed beneat

~ Next Day ~ "Are you completely sure about this?” Sam asked over a bad connection just outside the gates to the Walton mansion. My home, my prison." "Totally sure." The minute I said that, I squeezed the phone until my knuckles were white. "If I don't go and face him now, I never will." "Call me the second you are through. I don't care when. If I don't hear from you in two hours, I will come looking for you." "Yes, dear mom." It was a feeble attempt at humor that died the moment it left my lips. "I mean it, Aria." "I know. I'll call." I hung up, punched in the gate code and the heavy wrought iron gates pained in protest as they opened just wide enough to let me squeeze through. The driveway stretched out before me, lined by precisely trimmed shrubs that Elizabeth had insisted on being pruned twice a week. Nothing less than perfection for the Walton estate. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my hands shaking as I drove up the long driveway. Twenty-four hours ago, I had bolte

~ At her Attorney Office ~ Rebecca Torres's office smelled like lemon polish and expensive leather. Vases of fresh-cut flowers perched on minimalist tables—a deliberate softness in an otherwise sharp environment. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Manhattan's skyline, a reminder of how high the stakes were in this city. I fidgeted with my wedding ring—still on my finger despite everything. Old habits. "Tell me everything," Rebecca said, her dark eyes assessing me over tortoiseshell glasses. "And I mean everything, Aria. The Waltons have already assembled their legal team." Already. Of course they had. I'd barely slept since walking out of the mansion yesterday, and they'd already mobilized their army. "My husband slept with my sister." The words still felt surreal, like recounting someone else's tragedy. "I caught them in his study, in our home." Rebecca didn't flinch. She'd heard worse, I supposed. She just nodded and made notes in an expensive leather-bound notebook, her Mo

"ARE WALTON DIVORCE SECRETS ABOUT TO SPILL?" The headline screamed from the newsstand as I hurried past, collar turned up against both the October chill and any potential recognition. Three weeks into the divorce proceedings, my face was everywhere—tabloids, gossip sites, even legitimate business publications. All of them speculating. All of them are wrong. I ducked into the coffee shop where Samantha waited, removing my sunglasses only after scanning the room for phones pointed my way. "Jesus, you look terrible," Sam said, pushing a latte toward me. "Thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear when her under-eye bags have their own I*******m account." Sam's face softened. "Have you slept at all?" I wrapped my cold fingers around the warm mug. "Sleep requires not having nightmares about Elizabeth Walton dissecting my life in front of a judge." "Seen today's hit piece?" Sam slid her tablet across the table. There I was again—an unflattering photo snapped mid-sentence outside th

The contents of Marcus's flash drive burned through my laptop screen like acid. Email after email, spreadsheet after spreadsheet—all documenting Jessica's meticulous betrayal. Not just of me, but of the entire Walton empire. "That conniving little snake," Samantha whispered beside me. Her fingers dug into my shoulder as we scrolled through dated communications between Jessica and Miller. *Target acquisition files downloaded. Meeting at the usual place tonight. Make sure M.W. is distracted.* That was from three weeks before I caught them together. My stomach churned. I slammed the laptop shut, unable to look at another word. "She planned everything." The realization tasted like copper in my mouth. "My marriage was just... collateral damage in her corporate espionage." "Aria—" Samantha started. "No." I stood up, needing to move. My legs carried me across her living room in frantic strides. "All this time I thought it was about sex. Or jealousy. Or hell, even love. But it was busin