His Desperate Apology

The penthouse suite looked like a war zone decorated by a florist gone mad. Champagne bottles lay shattered across the marble, Ethan was a shivering, impotent wreck on the floor, and the air was still thick with the lingering scent of fifty-six different perfumes. Most women would be screaming or nursing a shattered heart after catching their fiancé in a week-long marathon of infidelity. Not me. I just watched the golden digits on my phone screen climb past the three-billion-dollar mark with a smile that would have terrified a shark. My hand was still stinging from the final confrontation, but the rhythmic chime of the Cuckold Cash System was the only heartbeat I needed. I had successfully turned my betrayal into a kingdom, ruining a man who thought I was his toy. But as the heavy scent of Wyatt’s familiar, expensive cologne drifted through the open door and his security team stepped out of the shadows to sweep up the debris of my old life, I realized the real catastrophe was just beginning. The billionaire stalker I’d escaped months ago was back, his crimson eyes filled with a terrifying, childlike devotion, and he was ready to claim the monster I’d become.