THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORGOTTEN WIFE: My Husband's Redemption
My stomach drops, my eyes widening as I turn slowly, and there they are.
Rhys, head high, jacket undone, confidence radiating like arrogance dressed in black, and beside him is Betty.
The air thickens in my chest, and the sound of the violins distorts in my ears, the notes distant, like they’re playing underwater.
Betty is wearing a silk white gown that clings to her body like liquid light.
Her hair is up, curls spilling against the curve of her neck, and her makeup is subtle except for her lips — that deep red that shouldn’t suit her but does. It makes her look alive in a way I have never seen.
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