All Chapters of My Accidental Billionaire Husband : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

DeliaEver since that night in Victor’s penthouse, a constant, restless heat has been humming under my skin. The way he took me—without hesitation, without the distance I’ve grown used to, left me starving. I woke up every morning with a buzzing horniness that wouldn't fade, a physical reminder of what it felt like to actually be wanted. I knew Julian wouldn’t touch me if I simply asked; he’s spent months treating me like a ghost in his hallways. But I was his wife. I was a Kensington, and I was going to make sure he finally fucked me. I was tired of the cold bed and the even colder silence.I needed to break the stalemate. I needed to see him look at me with something other than complete boredom.I cleared the estate staff early, telling the chef and the maids to leave dinner on the warmers and disappear for the night. Once the house was empty, the silence became my stage. I spent an hour decorating the living room, throwing deep red rose petals across the floor until the white marb

~Delia~The investigator sent the report on a Thursday morning.I read it at the kitchen table with coffee I didn't touch.He had found nothing on the financial history. Katia's money trail before IG Technologies went public was a wall — clean, sealed, professionally maintained. He had hit it from four different angles and got nowhere. Whatever funded those early years was buried deep enough that he would need significantly more time and significantly more money to find it.That was the bad news.The good news was everything else.He had photographs. Forty-three of them, taken over three weeks by a contact he used for surveillance work. Katia and Julian at the Windsor family lunch. Katia and Julian at a child's birthday party, standing close, her laughing at something he said. Katia leaving the WEG building on a Tuesday afternoon, Julian walking her to her car, the two of them talking in the street for eleven minutes before she got in.Eleven minutes. He had timed it.There was a phot

~Delia~Mama was in the kitchen when I arrived.She took one look at my face and put the kettle on without saying anything. That was the thing about my mother; she could read a room before she read a person, and right now the room I had brought with me was ugly.I sat down at the kitchen table."Katia is fucking Julian," I said.Martha turned from the kettle."Delia—""I'm not asking. I'm telling you." I put my bag on the table. "She is fucking my husband. I went to her apartment today, and I told her to stay away from him, and she sat there with her wine and her Brooklyn view and gave me that face and denied everything, but she is fucking him, Mother. I know it."Mama came to the table and sat across from me. She had the expression she wore when she was deciding how seriously to take something — the slight tightening around the eyes, the careful stillness."You don't know that," she said."I had her investigated."Mama blinked. "You what?""I hired someone. I have photographs. Dates,

~Julian~Thirty days.I had thought working alongside Katia every day would get easier. It did not get easier. It got harder in the way that things got harder when you knew exactly what you wanted and had promised yourself you would handle things correctly before taking it, and the handling was taking longer than expected.I noticed everything.She drank her coffee black until three PM and then added one sugar without thinking about it, the way people did things they had done so long they stopped registering them. She always read documents from the back last page first, then the middle, and then the front. I had watched her do it with four separate briefs before I understood it was a system, not a habit. She held her pen in her left hand when she was thinking and switched to her right when she was writing.I noticed all of it. I hated myself for noticing. I noticed it anyway.On day eleven she fell asleep in the conference room.Just her head dropping slightly, then catching herself,

Katia He spent the next hour telling me about Meridian. Not the version I already knew, not the dry facts of a government contract and a lost bid. His version. He told me about building Halo Systems from nothing over ten years, about the government AI contract that was going to change everything, and about spending eighteen months developing a system that he believed was the best in the field. He told me about the evaluation committee and the result and the grinding unfairness of losing to a company that had appeared from nowhere with technology that he said, carefully watching my face, had not been developed entirely independently."What does that mean?" I said."It means someone helped them," he said. "Someone with access to proprietary architecture that was not theirs to share." He paused. "I cannot prove it. I have tried. The paper trail is clean. But I know what was in my system, and I know what appeared in Meridian's algorithm, and the overlap is not a coincidence."I sat wit