Divorced, Blackmailed, and Married to a Billionaire Heir

Kevin Henson saved my life three times, so I gave him three chances to fail me.

On our wedding day, he showed up at the altar with lipstick stains barely hidden beneath his collar and a neck mottled with hickeys. I pretended not to see.

The second time, paparazzi caught him leaving a hotel with some lounge singer.

I smashed his car. I slapped him so hard his lip split and bled. I filed for divorce—then spent the night dancing at a club until my feet went numb.

Kevin got word of it. He bought out the entire venue just to trash it, then went live across every platform to beg my forgiveness. He swore he'd changed. Swore he'd be the husband I deserved.

My family pressured me. I caved.

But the day my mother was driven to jump off our rooftop by my father's mistress and her daughter? Kevin vanished.

When I finally tracked him down, he had his arm around my father's illegitimate child, clinking glasses with friends like it was just another Friday night.

"Kev, didn't you swear you were done messing around?" one of his buddies laughed. "Aren't you afraid Fern Sullivan's gonna lose it on you?"

Kevin snorted, utterly unbothered.

"Christina's practically family. She got a scare today—what's wrong with comforting her a little?"

He swirled his drink. "Besides, you know how Fern is. She always makes a big scene, then lets it go. Even if she finds out, she'll forgive me. She always does."

But Kevin—you just used your last chance.

1.

I drew a slow breath and pushed open the door.

The noise in the private room died instantly. Someone scrambled to kill the music.

The moment Kevin saw me, he shot to his feet. A flicker of panic crossed his face before he smoothed it over.

"Babe—what are you doing here? Is the funeral all taken care of?"

He gestured vaguely toward Christina. "She was really shaken up. I figured she's your sister, and you were so busy, so I brought her out to get her mind off things—"

Sister.

The word curdled in my stomach.

"Kevin." My voice came out flat. Dead. "Did you drink yourself stupid, or did you just forget why my mother is dead?"

Today was supposed to be my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

Instead, my father's mistress and her daughter showed up at our door. They called it a "congratulations visit." It was a declaration of war.

And my father? He didn't apologize. He told my mother to be more understanding.

Christina Sullivan is only two years younger than me.

My mother spent twenty-five years building that man's home, raising his family, standing by his side—only to discover he'd been betraying her the entire time.

Our housekeeper, Hilary Lambert, got worried and called me while I was picking up the anniversary cake.

I broke every speed limit getting back.

I was still pulling into the driveway when my mother stepped off the roof.

Her body landed on my car. Blood sprayed across the windshield in a pattern I will never unsee.

While I was drowning in grief, barely holding myself together to arrange her funeral—my father was busy consoling his mistress.

And my husband? My husband decided to take my enemy's daughter out for a good time?

A thought sliced through the fog in my mind. Impossible. And yet—

"Kevin." I stared at him. "You already knew Christina. You knew exactly who she was. Didn't you?"

"I..." He opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyes darted sideways—guilty.

That was all the confirmation I needed.

Christina jumped in, her voice pitched high and sweet. "Please don't blame Kevin, Fern. Dad and I begged him not to say anything. We were afraid you'd be upset. We wanted to find the right time—"

She twisted her fingers together, the picture of innocence.

"Kevin and I met in college. I was his junior. We... we dated for a while. But then his family called him back for the arranged marriage, and we had to break up."

Her eyes went wide and wet. "I swear I'm not trying to steal him from you. I just—today was so awful. I never imagined your mother would... that she'd go that far..."

Kevin said nothing.

His silence was its own confession.

The absurdity of it crashed over me like ice water.

He'd known all along. He'd known my father had a secret daughter, and he'd kept me blind.

If I'd found out sooner—if I'd had any warning—maybe I could have protected her.

Maybe my mother would still be alive.

The silence stretched. Christina rushed to fill it.