The Billionaire's Broken Wife

　　Vanessa walked into the well-furnished hotel suite, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She was following her husband Joe's directive to meet him at the hotel.　　What he wanted, she had no idea. They have been married for three years, and in all of those years, this was the first time he has ever asked to meet in a hotel.　　She knew they were a couple in name and on paper only, but her treacherous heart could not control the way it felt for Joe.　　After inspecting every inch of the suite, she noticed a note on a side stool, held down by a glass of juice.　　"The juice is for you. Make yourself comfortable. I will join you soon, Joe."　　Sighing in exhaustion, she picked up the glass of juice and waltzed to the window that overlooked the city of Chicago.　　"What a sight," she thought to herself as she took a tentative sip of the juice. It was very refreshing, soothing her parched throat so she gulped the remaining content of the glass.　　A while later, Vanessa began to feel dizzy, an

　　ONE YEAR LATER　　"We are ready to land. Please stay in your seats and fasten your seat belts," said the air hostess cheerfully.　　The private jet landed on the tarmac in the airport, courtesy of an experienced pilot.　　The door opened, and a staircase rolled out. David King descended. Standing at 6 foot 3 inches tall, Mr. King had intense grey eyes, full pink lips, and a high nose bridge.　　His dark hair swept away in an artful swoosh away from his forehead. He exuded a very powerful and mysterious aura, much like a god came to earth. His black suit was well cut, hugging his solid, muscle-packed upper body.　　As soon as his feet touched the ground, his assistant, Pete, came running towards him.　　"Sir," he greeted, smiling. He bowed a little, took his briefcase and they began to walk away from the tarmac. Pete led him towards the exclusive VIP section of the airport, reserved for people of the highest caliber of society.　　"Hope you had a nice flight, sir," Pete asked. David makes a

　　Sophia waltzed into the company with Gerald and her bodyguard on her heels. She had taken off the sunglasses and she tossed her blonde hair once again, aware of the image she projected.　　Everyone knew Gerald, she was sure, but no one knew Sophia Blake – at least no one knew how she looked. But there were whispers, and she heard them. She smirked and entered the elevator that her bodyguard just opened for her.　　Turning around, she kept the smirk on her face.　　The heiress is back.　　The elevator began its smooth ascent upwards.　　While in the elevator, Gerald began to brief her about the meeting she was going into.　　"You will be meeting with the board of Directors. That includes all heads of relevant divisions of the company such as the Chief Operations Officer, the Managing Director, the Chief Financial Officer, Head of Human Resources, and Editor-in-Chief of the Public Relations Department."　　Sophia nodded in contemplation, a million thoughts flitting through her head.　　"What i

　　The meeting went on for the next hour, and after a while, it came to an end. From their discussion, Sophia was able to fully understand the operation of the company, what she needed to do, and where she had to start to make everything better. Though it was her first time there, she found the current situation of things at the company appalling.　　One after the other, the men left. When they had all left the room, Sophia looked at Gerald who was sitting beside her. An irritated look appeared on her face, and no one needed to tell Gerald that she was about to make a complaint.　　Gerald rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Say it all out. I know you're about to accuse me of something. Do it already." He folded his arms and placed one of his legs on the table.　　"No wonder grandma wanted me to come here!" Sophia exclaimed and slapped her right palm on the table, making Gerald jerk a bit backward. He didn't drop his leg from the table though.　　"If you keep going on like this, I guess thi

　　About half an hour later, Gerald and Sophia arrived at a textile store. As always, the driver got down from the front seat to open the door for her at the owner's corner where she sat, and adjusted her sunglasses as she looked at the building in front of her. Gerald also got down by the other side. The two approached the front door of the high-end private custom home textile store.　　As soon as they walked in, the store manager—a petite man who seemed like he was in his mid-thirties—who was discussing with the receptionist, rushed over to Gerald and Sophia to receive them in person. 　　After offering them a seat and being done with his welcome speech, he proceeded to tell them about the available materials in the store.　　"Sir," he turned to Gerald since he was the one who came before to book down the place. "These are the company's latest products. They are handcrafted and meet your requirements." He pointed to the products and respectfully introduced the mattress and bedding in fro