The Billionaire’s Vengeful Heiress
"We accept your terms!"
Lydia's voice cracked through the room like a whip. Her hand shot out, fingers already curling around the pen before I'd finished my sentence.
There it was. That look.
I'd seen it before, three years into my marriage to Leo. A dinner party, champagne flowing, Lydia's eyes tracking the diamond bracelet on my wrist. "That would look better on me," she'd said, laughing as if it were a joke. Two weeks later, the bracelet had vanished from my jewelry box. I'd found it months later, tucked in the silk lining of her purse during one of her visits.