Ten Dates With The Billionaire

Chapter One: The Perfect Lie

SERA’S POV

The chandelier above me sparkles like a thousand tiny diamonds, its light reflecting off the polished marble floors. Laughter and the gentle clinking of champagne glasses fill the grand ballroom, where New York’s elite parade in their designer gowns and tailored suits.

To them, this is just another glamorous charity gala. To me, it’s a prison.

I stand at Ethan Carter’s side, the man I once loved—the man I married thinking he was my happily ever after. His grip on my waist is firm, possessive, like he’s staking a claim. He leans in, whispering against my ear, his lips barely brushing my skin.

“Smile, Sera. You wouldn’t want our guests to think you’re ungrateful.”

Ungrateful.

I want to laugh.

Instead, I do as I’ve been trained to do—force a smile, sip my champagne, play the role of the devoted wife. The woman who has it all.

But I feel hollow.

I glance around the room, my gaze landing on Celeste Deveraux—the latest in Ethan’s long line of mistresses. She’s draped over his business partner, but she keeps sneaking glances at my husband, her ruby lips curving in amusement.

Then I see it.

The necklace around her throat.

I know that necklace. Ethan gave it to me on our third anniversary, telling me it was as timeless as my beauty.

Now it’s wrapped around another woman’s neck like a cruel joke.

A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down.

Not here. Not now.

Ethan moves his hand lower on my waist, fingers pressing into my hip in warning. “I expect you to behave tonight,” he murmurs before turning his attention back to his associates, laughing like nothing is wrong.

I feel sick.

I excuse myself, my heels clicking against the marble as I make my way to the powder room. The moment the heavy door shuts behind me, I exhale a shaky breath.

The mirror reflects a woman I barely recognize. My once vibrant eyes are dull, my lips painted into a smile that isn’t real. The off-shoulder navy gown I’m wearing is stunning, custom-made for this event, but it doesn’t belong to me. Not really. Nothing in my life does anymore.

I press my hands against the sink, gripping the edges like it’s the only thing keeping me from collapsing.

I can’t do this.

I can’t keep pretending.

The door opens, and I stiffen. Celeste strides in, her stiletto heels clicking against the tiles. She meets my gaze in the mirror, a smirk curling her lips.

“Beautiful necklace, isn’t it?” she purrs, tilting her head as she fingers the diamonds. “Ethan has such exquisite taste.”

My nails dig into my palms. “I hope you enjoy my leftovers.”

She lets out a soft laugh, stepping closer. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the leftovers.”

My breath hitches, but I refuse to let her see me break.

She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll never leave him. You know why? Because he owns you. And you? You’re too weak to do anything about it.”

She turns and walks out, leaving me alone with her words slicing through my soul.

I grip the counter, my entire body trembling.

I can’t stay in this life.

But I have nowhere else to go.

---

I don’t remember leaving the gala.

One moment, I was standing in that bathroom, drowning in humiliation. The next, I was gripping the wheel of my car, driving aimlessly through the city.

The skyline blurs past me, neon lights flashing in the darkness. My heart pounds, my pulse erratic.

I need to breathe.

I need to escape.

And then I see it.

A bar. Crimson Veil was the name

Not the kind Ethan and his associates frequent—the kind where the music is loud, the air is thick with smoke and whiskey, and no one cares who you are.

I pull into the parking lot, my hands shaking as I step out of the car.

Inside, the bass vibrates through my bones, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of my life. The air smells of sweat, liquor, and recklessness.

I make my way to the bar, sliding onto a stool. The bartender glances at me, his brow arching slightly, as if he knows I don’t belong here.

“What’ll it be?”

I don’t hesitate. “Something strong.”

He smirks, pouring amber liquid into a glass. I down it in one gulp, relishing the burn.

For the first time in years, I feel something other than numb.

And then I sense it.

A presence.

Someone is watching me.

I glance over my shoulder, my breath catching.

A woman sits in the far corner, her gaze fixed on me.

Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a slow, knowing smile that sends a shiver down my spine.

She doesn’t look away.

Neither do I.

And for the first time in years, I feel alive.

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