Chapter 1: Love Of Money

CAMILLA

“Are you also a virgin, Mr. Castillo, or… are you gay?”

I watched his expression shift for the briefest second before he masked it with a smirk.

“You want to find out?” he said softly.

My breath caught.

I never believed that, in just one day, I could find myself in a situation like this.

But to understand how I ended up sitting on my bestie's husband, Mr. Castillo, on his thigh and asking him a question that could change everything.

ONE DAY AGO

The fact that Lyra had asked me to meet her at the club at this hour of the night was strange. What could be that urgent?

The place was packed, Friday night, as expected. I pushed through the crowd toward the bar, following her instructions, but only her purse sat on the stool. Without being told, I already knew where she was. Definitely dancing.

I sighed and sat down, rubbing my forehead.

Today had been exhausting. Not only had I handled two divorce cases, bringing my record to 499 wins without a single loss, but I had also spent the rest of the day getting everything ready for my own wedding, which was coming up next Saturday.

I was marrying my first love, my boyfriend of seven years. The thought still made my heart swell.

But weddings weren’t cheap, and most of the expenses fell on me. I couldn’t let one beautiful day destroy the future I’d fought so hard to build. For two years I’d been saving to buy equity in the firm or start my own if that failed. Every case, every victory, mattered.

Suddenly, my phone chimed.

I pulled it out of my purse and smiled when I saw Desmond’s message.

"Hello, my love. Just got home, helping Nana with dinner."

A picture followed—him and his mother in the kitchen. I smiled. He’d gone to bring her and his aunt to Madrid for the wedding.

I typed back quickly.

"Alright, my regards to her. I’m in the club with Lyra. She said she has something important to discuss with me."

His reply came instantly.

"Lyra? Why are you in a club with her? You know she doesn’t respect marriage. And how dare she take you to such a filthy place when you're getting married in seven days? You should be resting at home, not staying in a club."

A smile tugged at my lips. Protective as always.

"Relax. It’s urgent. I won’t stay long.

Desmond: Fine. And please don’t drink. Let me know when you get home safely. I’m feeling restless right now."

"Okay, my love."

I lowered my phone with a grin and looked toward the dance floor.

I still wasn’t sure what was so urgent about Lyra’s invitation, because she was currently dancing with a male model on the stage instead of telling me what she wanted.

Lyra had been carefree since the day we met in high school ten years ago. And she was lucky enough to have married the wealthiest man in the city, a man who let her live however she wanted and spend whatever she pleased.

As if summoned by my thoughts, she suddenly looked toward the bar.

Our eyes met.

She smiled and started walking toward me, swirling her hips the way she always did, as if she ruled the entire place.

And of course, she probably did.

She could buy this club if she wanted to.

Another male model approached her. To my surprise, he ran a hand over her cleavage. She giggled. My brow furrowed. She's married, for goodness’ sake.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said brightly as she reached me. “I can’t handle the joy right now.”

She signaled for a shot.

“Lyra, why did you let that guy touch you like that? You’re married.”

She downed the shot in one gulp, then looked at me calmly.

“I might be partially single. I’m divorcing Sebastian.”

My eyes widened. “Are you insane? Mr. Castillo is a big shot. Every woman in our circle still envies you. You got an untouched billionaire to marry you, stay loyal, and give you everything, and now you’re throwing it all away?”

“What should I do, Camilla? We’ve been married a year and haven’t had sex. Haven’t even shared a bed.”

My jaw dropped. As a divorce lawyer, I’d seen every kind of marriage. But a billionaire married to a beautiful woman for an entire year without touching her? Something was off.

“You always praise him. You never told me this.”

“Because he gives me money. Cars, clothes, jewelry, whatever I want.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But he won’t give me himself.”

My chest tightened. I exhaled.

“Fine. Your happiness comes first. I’ll look at your options and send the documents Monday.”

A small smile crossed her lips. Then that familiar childlike expression appeared, the one she wore when she was about to ask for something impossible.

“What now?”

“I don’t just want a divorce. I want half of his property.”

I stared at her in shock. “You’re sick if you think I’ll do that.”

She grabbed my hand.

“Please. I don’t want to walk out empty-handed.”

I pulled my hand away.

“Getting half is almost impossible. The court looks at what belongs to the marriage, what was acquired during it, contributions, and circumstances. Being his wife doesn’t automatically mean half.”

Silence settled between us.

“I’ll pay you five hundred million dollars,” she said firmly.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Five hundred million?”

“Yes. More than any client has ever paid you. Enough to buy that equity you’ve been chasing.”

I stayed completely still. The offer was tempting. Yes, I loved money—it meant freedom, choices, and security. And having enough money to secure my future was something I had always wanted.

Still, there was one thing I wasn’t willing to do. Something that would go against my professionalism.

And yet… a memory rose unbidden.

Ten years ago, after the accident that took both my parents and left me with nothing but debt and a half-finished degree, an envelope had appeared at my door. No name. No explanation. Just enough money to keep me in school and stop me from drowning. I had always believed it was Lyra. She was the only one who knew how close I had come to disappearing. She never admitted it. I never forced her. But I had carried that debt every day since.

Now she was looking at me with tears in her eyes.

“I can fight for everything the law allows you to claim,” I said quietly. “That’s all.”

She stared at me, completely shocked, before exhaling.

“Adultery is an offense, right?”

My brows furrowed. “Sebastian cheated on you?”

She shook her head. “I just want to know.”

“Yes. With evidence, the court can order compensation. But not automatically half of everything.”

She nodded in satisfaction. “Compensation isn’t bad.”

“But you just said he didn't cheat on you. How then will you get evidence?”

“I already know how to make him cheat. And I’ll use it as evidence.”

I stared at her, completely baffled. “What do you mean by that?”

“Sebastian doesn’t touch women easily. But there’s one woman I think he might.”

My heart sank. I lowered my voice.

“Who?”

Her smile widened, her gaze locked with mine.

“You.”