Bought and Betrayed: My Stray Husband's Downfall

The year I turned twenty, I met Killian. He was auctioning off his life to pay his mother's medical debt.

He knelt on the filthy pavement outside a club, slapping a fiftygrand price tag on his own head. The crowd circling him didn't care. To them, it was just a latenight street show.

I had just closed my tab. I stepped out into the biting night air, waiting for my driver to pull around, when a hand locked onto the hem of my dress. I glanced down.

A pair of eyes—bruised, desperate, yet burning with a feral stubbornness—slammed into mine. "Please," he rasped, the word tearing from his throat. "Help me.

I'll do anything." The heavy bass from the club thumped against the pavement.

The silence between us stretched tight before I finally heard my own voice. "Okay." I let my guard down. My armor cracked.

After I brought him back to the estate, the oldmoney circle had a field day. "The Montgomery heiress picked up a stray," they laughed. "She's got herself a little shadow." Years bled by, and the whispers changed tune.

The shadow vanished, replaced by the CEO of Yuxing Tech. He became the city's most ruthless newmoney prodigy. Throughout our marriage, Killian never missed a single milestone.

He was the kind of husband who had custom jewelry locked in the vault weeks before an anniversary.

So, on my twentysixth birthday, when he texted me to meet him at a highend club for a surprise, I didn't hesitate.

Turns out, the surprise was a frontrow seat to my own humiliation. He was down on one knee. Holding a ring up to a bottle girl.

The bass vibrated through the floorboards as the crowd erupted. Cell phone flashlights strobed through the smoke.

Someone from a VIP booth whistled, hollering over the music, "Look at the billionaire wifing up the bottle girl!" My fingernails dug into my palms until the flesh yielded and the sharp sting grounded my racing pulse.

I stared at the man I had dragged out of the gutter, watching him pledge his life to someone else. This time, I was done. Chapter 1 The cheering swelled.

The girl's face flushed crimson under the strobe lights. She yanked the ring off her finger and hurled it at Killian's chest. "Who gave you the right to throw your charity at me?

You think this is a game? I have my pride!" His jaw didn't clench. He didn't even blink.

He just crouched down, plucked the diamond from the sticky floor, and wiped it clean with his thumb. Then, he slid it right back onto her finger. He didn't ask for her permission.

Just like he never asked for mine, not once in all our years of marriage.

Killian twisted the band, making sure it sat perfectly over her knuckle. "It's not charity," he said, his tone low and steady. "Everything you need right now, I can give it to you.

The money, the status. Even my submission." The fight drained out of her. She stood frozen, letting him straighten up and pull her against his chest.

Across the strobelit room, his gaze locked onto mine. The hand resting on the girl's waist twitched, loosening its grip.

His dark eyes held a sharp, glittering challenge that hadn't been there six years ago. He was showing me he had options. He was showing me I wasn't his only lifeline anymore.

His lips moved, forming silent words over the pounding bass. "Don't come over here." I wasn't one of the board members he terrified on a daily basis.

I kept my spine straight, locked my knees, and walked forward. Passing the bar, my fingers closed around a full cocktail glass. I didn't stop. I hurled it straight at his chest.

The amber liquid splashed across his custom Italian suit. The heavy crystal shattered at his leather shoes, sending shards skittering across the floor.

The girl jumped, ripping herself out of his arms. Her wide, panicked eyes darted to me.

I pulled a napkin from my clutch and methodically wiped the sticky condensation from my fingertips. Then, I reached out and caught her hovering hand. "Hi.

I'm Rowena," I said. "Killian's wife." Tears instantly flooded her eyes, mixing with a raw, defensive glare. It was the exact same look he had given me in the alley six years ago.

I dropped her hand. Killian stepped sideways, cutting off my line of sight. He positioned himself like a shield in front of her.

The muscles in his jaw ticked, his upper lip curling into a sneer I had never seen before. "If you want to throw a tantrum, Rowena, go home.

This isn't your playground." His voice was a flat, dead calm. It was the exact tone he used before firing an executive, a tone he had never once directed at me.

My hand twitched upward, then fell back to my side. He had downgraded me from his wife to my full, sterile name. He wasn't going to apologize. He wasn't going to explain.

Screaming at him wouldn't do a damn thing—Killian only understood power, not tears.

I lowered my gaze to the thick gold band sitting freshly on his ring finger. "You texted me to come see my surprise," I said, keeping my voice low enough that he had to lean in to hear. "I'm here.

I saw it.

So drop the act." I met his eyes. "Killian, we're getting a divorce." [How can it be cheating if there was never any love to begin with?] I gripped the silk of my dress until the fabric dug sharply into my palms.

The heavy bass and the buzzing whispers of the crowd felt like a vice crushing my skull. Killian didn't bother comforting the girl.

He pulled a thick stack of bills from his money clip, shoving it into a nearby waitress's hands. "Take Gemma home," he ordered. He didn't wait for a reply.

His hand clamped around my wrist like a steel shackle, dragging me toward the exit. He hauled me out into the freezing night and shoved me toward his Maybach.

He pushed me into the backseat, but in the final fraction of a second, his hand caught the back of my neck, guiding my head down so I wouldn't hit the doorframe.

I had just torched his perfect, public proposal. Of course he was furious. Chapter 2 The Maybach tore down the asphalt, the speedometer needle climbing with reckless speed.

Killian broke the heavy silence. "Rowena. Does it hurt? Watching me cheat?" Bile rose in the back of my throat.

I swallowed it down, letting the venom bleed into my voice. "How do you have the nerve to ask me that?" I shot back. "You set up a frontrow seat for me." "Isn't this exactly what you wanted?

To force my hand into a divorce?" His knuckles turned bonewhite around the leather steering wheel. The engine roared as he slammed his foot on the gas.

I stared out the passenger window. A few hours ago, I thought my husband was planning a romantic birthday surprise.

Now, the custom dashboard ornament I had bought him years ago—a little grinning figure—swung violently from the rearview mirror. Its painted smile felt like a slap to the face.

The silence in the car grew suffocating. He didn't say another word. He didn't take the exit toward our estate.

Instead, the tires screeched to a halt in front of the flagship luxury plaza. He hauled me out of the car and marched me straight into a highend designer boutique.

It was a sterile, aggressive display of wealth.

He slammed his black card on the glass counter, pointing out diamond sets and limitededition bags like he was clearing out a grocery aisle. Then, he stepped behind me.

His chest pressed flush against my spine.

His arms banded around my waist, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. "The great Montgomery heiress," he murmured. "You're just throwing a tantrum because I missed dinner, aren't you?

I bought the gifts. What else could you possibly want?" What else could I want? Killian, I'd love the answer to that myself.

Across the counter, the sales associates watched us with glittering, envious eyes.

To them, I was wrapped in a billionaire's absolute devotion. "I don't give a damn about the diamonds," I said, my voice deadpan. "I want to know why you went out of your way to make sure I caught you." The arms locked around my ribs suddenly constricted, pulling me painfully tight against his solid frame.

A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest. "How can it be cheating," he whispered, "if there was never any love between us?" All the air vanished from the room.

A phantom hand squeezed my lungs until black spots danced in my peripheral vision. No love. Then what the hell were the last six years?

A oneman play I had funded and starred in all by myself?

When my father took over the Montgomery empire, he made the new rules bloodsimple: prove your worth to the board, or get cut out of the trust.

As the eldest daughter, the crosshairs were permanently locked on my back. I didn't sleep. I practically lived in boardrooms and VIP lounges.

I swallowed my pride and matched ruthless investors drink for drink, downing straight whiskey until my throat burned raw, just to secure signatures on dotted lines.

I dragged myself home every night smelling like stale smoke and liquor. And every night, Killian would be waiting. He'd have hot hangover soup ready on the stove.

He’d spoonfeed it to me, brushing the hair from my sticky forehead, pressing soft kisses to my flushed cheeks. He hated watching me destroy myself.

Eventually, he started shadowing my meetings, claiming he was just there to supervise.

But whenever the glasses were poured, he was the one stepping in, downing the shots before they even reached my hands. The workaholic shifted from me to him.

He promised me he would climb to the absolute top of the food chain, just so no one could ever force me to prove my worth again. Well. Killian reached the summit.

And now he was standing at the peak, telling me he never loved me. Every ounce of my highsociety conditioning snapped.

I grabbed the nearest limitededition handbag and hurled it into the mirrored display case. The glass shattered with a deafening crash. I didn't stop.

I swept my arm across the velvet trays, sending diamonds and pearls clattering across the marble tiles. Phones flashed from the entryway as onlookers recorded the meltdown.

Killian stared at me like I was a feral animal. He grabbed me, hauled me out of the blinding lights, and drove us straight back to the estate.

He threw me onto the kingsized mattress. The springs groaned as he caged me in, a knee sinking into the duvet beside my hip, his hands pinning my wrists to the sheets.

His shadow swallowed me whole. "Are you really this dense, Rowena?" he demanded, his face inches from mine. "This was a transaction.

You said so yourself." His jaw ticked, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. "You're just as sickening as your father.

You used me as your attack dog to secure your empire, and now that I've outlived my usefulness, you're ready to kick me to the curb and marry into better old money." I stared up at him, paralyzed.

The rims of his eyes were bloodshot. Kick him to the curb? When did I ever plan to dump him? We had built a life together.

My absolute bewilderment must have shown on my face, because the temperature in the room plummeted.

The dark intent in his eyes sharpened into something dangerous. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly, terrifying whisper. "We are never getting a divorce." He leaned down.

His teeth grazed my fingertip, biting down just hard enough to send a sharp jolt of electricity up my arm—a twisted mimicry of his old affection.

His eyes burned with an obsessive, suffocating gravity. "I'm your little shadow, remember?

How could we ever separate?" Chapter 3 Killian’s eyes flicked to the digital calendar on the nightstand.

His hands clamped onto my silk top, the fabric tearing with a sharp rip. "Didn't you always want a kid?" he demanded, his voice thick. "Tonight's the night." I shoved my palms against his chest, but he was a wall of solid muscle.

His arms locked around me like a vice. His mouth crashed down on mine, bruising and desperate.

His teeth scraped down the column of my throat, leaving hot, stinging marks in their wake. Salt burned the corners of my eyes.

The metallic clink of his belt buckle unfastening echoed in the quiet room. I stared up at his darkened, obsessive features, and my stomach churned, nausea clawing up my throat.

I twisted out of his grip, practically falling over the edge of the mattress. I grabbed the metal trash can and dryheaved until my ribs cramped.

His hand clamped around my upper arm, hauling me upright. His thumb scraped heavily across my wet cheek.

The muscles in his neck strained, his chest heaving with erratic breaths. "You're disgusted by me?" he snapped, his voice cracking slightly. "You used to beg for this.

You don't get to look at me like that, Rowena. You threw me away first." I dragged a pillow against my chest, putting a physical barrier between us.

I scrambled backward until my spine hit the cold headboard. My teeth chattered so hard my jaw ached. "Killian," I gasped out. "If you think this is a marriage, we're divorcing.

If you think this was a transaction, then the contract is terminated. I don't owe you a damn thing." The veins bulged at his temples.

The hand gripping my collar slowly opened, dropping the ruined silk. "Fine, Rowena," he spat. "I don't need you." He turned on his heel.

The heavy bedroom door slammed shut behind him with enough force to rattle the glass lamps on the nightstands. I pulled the duvet over my shoulders and curled my knees to my chest.

Outside, the rain lashed heavily against the windowpanes. I stayed in that corner until the gray, washedout light of dawn bled through the curtains.

My phone vibrated endlessly under the crushed pillow. My joints popped as I reached for it, swiping the screen with numb fingers.

My father's voice exploded through the speaker. "Rowena! You're a walking PR disaster!

Are you trying to tank our stock?" "Throwing a hysterical fit in a luxury mall, making sure every paparazzo in the city knows you're a Montgomery!

Who the hell is going to sign a merger with us now?" "Look at the trending hashtags! Get your ass back to the estate, right now." A blinding spike of pain drove through my temples.

My dry lips parted. "Dad—" The line went dead. The phone slipped from my grip, vanishing into the tangled sheets. I forced myself off the mattress, stumbling to the master bathroom.

I gripped the edges of the marble vanity, staring at the ghost looking back in the mirror.

I turned on the cold water and spent the next hour burying the wreckage under a heavy layer of foundation and concealer.

If I didn't face him today, he would use his ultimate leverage against me.

The second my heels clicked onto the foyer tile of the Montgomery estate, a booming voice echoed from the grand living room. "Get on your knees." "You're exactly like your useless mother.

You screw up everything you touch. Do you have any idea how the board is laughing at us right now?" I stared at the geometric patterns on the Persian rug. I didn't say a word.

I just dug my manicured nails into the lining of my skirt. He still held the legal power of attorney over my mother's private medical care.

She hadn't been transferred to a safe facility yet. Just hold on, Rowena. Just a little longer. I looked up.

The man sitting on the leather sofa was resting both hands on the solid brass head of his cane. "It's been a year," he sneered. "I told you to drain the rest of Killian's shares from the subsidiary, and you still haven't managed it.

That stray dog you married is plotting a takeover.

We gave him the clothes on his back, and now he’s biting the hand that feeds him." My father leaned back against the cushions like he was exhausted by my sheer incompetence, raising his hand.

The solid oak cane cracked against my back. The impact drove the air from my lungs. Another strike hit my shoulders, hard and merciless.

The massive double oak doors suddenly blew open. Killian strode into the foyer, flanked by a swarm of media reporters with flashing cameras.

His eyes landed on me, bruised and kneeling on the floor. He lunged forward. His hands instinctively hooked under my arms, hauling me up with a sudden, desperate panic.

But halfway up, he froze. His jaw tightened. He released his grip, letting me slip back down to the floor. Killian… you said there was no love between us.

Then what the hell was that reaction? Pity? Chapter 4 His righthand man pressed play on a digital recorder.

My father's voice cut through the heavy silence of the foyer, followed immediately by my own. "My dear daughter, marrying him without my approval was a massive disappointment.

But a stray is still a starving wolf. You better not have any real feelings for him, or else—" "But at least he's useful.

I didn't expect his corporate tactics to be even more ruthless than yours. Dad, it's just a transaction.

I paid off his mother's halfmillion medical debt, and he bleeds for this family." "Hmph. Keep your head straight.

When the time is right, strip his shares, cut him loose, and take the oldmoney match I've arranged for you." The audio clicked off.

It was a private conversation from my father's study six months ago. The pieces of the puzzle slammed together.

The venom in Killian's voice the other night—he had heard every single word. The audio had leaked on a live stream.

It was already going viral across every major platform. [The Montgomerys are literally drinking Killian's blood.] [And everyone praised them for giving the soninlaw his own tech branch!] [It was a shell game.

He’s just a puppet bleeding for their profit margins.] [Boycott Montgomery Corp until they hand over his executive rights!] The dull roar of my father's screaming faded into static.

The burning agony radiating from my spine finally dragged me under. The world went black. The sterile smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol dragged me back to consciousness.

I was in a private hospital wing. The steady beep of a heart monitor echoed in the quiet room. Killian stood by the halfopen door, his back to my bed.

Gemma stood perfectly still next to him. "You played your part perfectly at the club," he said, his voice dropping low. "Don't worry about your sister's medical bills.

I've got it covered." Gemma shifted her weight, looking down. "Isn't this cruel to Ms. Montgomery?

She doesn't know you're—" "That's above your pay grade." The temperature in the room plummeted. "Just stick to the script and take your check." He turned around. Our eyes locked.

A microscopic flinch broke his perfectly blank expression.

Then, fluidly, he wrapped an arm around Gemma's waist, pulling her flush against his side. "I came to give you a headsup," he said smoothly. "We're holding a wedding ceremony.

We won't sign the legal papers yet, but as the official wife, you deserved to know." Gemma kept her eyes glued to the floor. She didn't make a sound.

The exhaustion settled deep into my marrow. I didn't have the energy to dissect his motives anymore. I didn't even want to explain the spliced recording.

Once the seed of doubt was planted, the rot just spread. He had never planned on trusting me anyway.

I stared at the acoustic tiles on the ceiling. "Save yourself the catering bill," I said, my voice hollow. "We're getting a divorce. You can do whatever you want.

You don't need to brief me." The muscles in his jaw snapped tight. He shoved Gemma away with such force that she stumbled into the doorframe.

The oversized diamond ring slipped off her finger, clattering sharply against the linoleum floor. "You want to divorce me, Rowena?" He closed the distance to the bed, his chest heaving. "The only way out is if I throw you out!

We never had feelings for each other anyway, so what's the difference?

We'll just keep living like this." His rage washed over me without leaving a single mark. "You forgot the paperwork, Killian." I pulled the IV line slightly to sit up against the pillows. "The prenup you signed." "If you cheat, the marriage is instantly voided.

I forwarded the video from the club to my lawyers an hour ago." "You don't need to jump through these theatrical hoops to get back at me. You said there was no love between us.

So be it." I smoothed the edge of the crisp white hospital blanket. "Treat it as a failed transaction. I don't need you anymore." Chapter 5 Killian froze.

His bloodshot eyes stared at me for a long time before his jaw unlocked. "Rowena. I am not signing those papers. No matter what." He turned and walked out, leaving Gemma behind.

She stood in the center of the room, her lips parting as if to speak, before she finally turned and slipped out the door. My phone vibrated against the mattress.

Ellis's voice came through the receiver, crisp and professional. "President Montgomery.

Your mother has been safely relocated out of the country." The invisible vice around my ribs finally unclasped. "Initiate the asset transfer," I instructed, my voice deadpan. "The second my flight lands, leak the Montgomery Corporation's black files to the press." "Understood," Ellis replied. "Also, the overseas contact has offered you an additional eight percent equity." They had been stingy during the initial negotiations.

Why the sudden generosity? I shoved the suspicion to the back of my mind. "Book my ticket for tomorrow.

We'll finalize the details facetoface." I paused, staring at the empty doorway. "Handle the divorce proceedings with Killian.

You'll be the primary liaison with the legal team." My father had spent my entire life treating me like a pawn on his chessboard. But he had made one fatal miscalculation.

He had given me too much clearance. I had spent years quietly siphoning his network, building my own empire in the shadows. The Montgomery family. Killian. They were dead weight.

I was cutting the cord. Killian Panic clawed at the back of my throat, thick and suffocating. It was her fault.

Rowena had played me for six years, manipulated my feelings, and now she wasn't even trying to make me stay. She was just throwing me away.

Why should I bleed to build the Montgomery family's tech subsidiary, only for her to kick me to the curb?

She was just going to follow her father's orders and marry into some oldmoney dynasty. Yes, the marriage started with a fiftygrand price tag.

But was it really just a transaction to her? Were the last six years of her gentle smiles and quiet support nothing but a corporate strategy? My chest tightened.

The regret hit me like a physical blow. I never should have hired Gemma.

I had orchestrated the entire stunt on her twentysixth birthday, right at the very club where she had bought my life, just to twist the knife.

I told her there was no love between us because I wanted to see her crack. I wanted to see if she cared.

But watching the absolute devastation shatter her composure hadn't given me the sick satisfaction I wanted. If it was just a transaction, why had she looked so entirely broken?

I hated myself for trying to destroy her, only to realize I was still obsessively, pathetically in love with her. I drove straight to the private sanatorium.

The head nurse caught me in the hallway, mentioning my mother had something for me. I pushed open the door.

My mother was sitting up against the pillows, knitting a sweater just like she used to before the illness. The sight of her drove a jagged shard of guilt right through my ribs.

She looked up, her warm eyes scanning the empty space behind me. "Where's Rowena? Did she not come with you?" I swallowed the sandpaper in my throat. "She had a meeting.

Couldn't make it." She lowered her knitting needles, a gentle, teasing smile on her face. "You used to be her little shadow.

It feels strange seeing you without her." The silence stretched out, thick and heavy. "How's your health, Mom?" I asked, forcing a change of subject.

She waved me off, still smiling. "I'm perfectly fine. As long as you two kids are happy, that's all that matters." "Rowena dropped this off two months ago.

I don't know what it is, and I certainly can't read the legal jargon. But she said you'd need it someday. Take a look." I ripped the seal open and pulled out the crisp documents.

My breath hitched. My pupils dilated, fixating on the bold ink at the top of the page. It was a transfer deed for thirty percent of the subsidiary's shares.

The sole beneficiary listed was me. Chapter 6