THE BILLIONAIRE WIFE'S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

Sierra was never one to ignore signs, not in business, not in love, and certainly not in betrayal. By morning, her sleek mahogany desk was covered in a mosaic of receipts, emails, calendar reminders, and transaction records. Her laptop had three open tabs, all related to Liam's trip to Boston two months ago.

The hotel had confirmed his stay, The Beacon Plaza, luxury suite, three nights. But what unsettled her was a second charge: a room service bill for two, champagne and oysters, two entrees, and dessert. Why order for two in a king suite if you were traveling alone?

The door to the penthouse opened.

Liam.

Sierra quickly closed her laptop and stood, smoothing her silk robe. She walked out to meet him like nothing had changed.

"Hey," he said, smiling tiredly. "Didn't expect you to still be up."

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, brushing a kiss against his cheek. "Too much on my mind."

He arched an eyebrow. "Work stuff?"

She shrugged. "Life stuff."

They exchanged no more than that as he moved toward the bedroom. Sierra watched him go. The lie sat between them like a fog.

The next day, she drove herself to the Hayes Properties downtown office. Not the penthouse suite with her name on the door, but the basement records department, where financial and travel logs were archived. She greeted the head of operations with a smile and a fabricated story.

"I need to pull some travel expenses from Liam's Boston trip," she said. "We've got a minor audit coming up."

The man didn't question it. Within minutes, Sierra had access to every charge on the company card. Flights, meals, car rentals, dry cleaning… and one boutique jewellery store receipt that didn't fit.

A bracelet. Emerald stones. Gift-wrapped.

Not for her.

She left the office that afternoon with the weight of a new truth: Liam hadn't just hidden his infertility. He had hidden a woman.

Later that night, Sierra met Mila again, this time at Mila's penthouse. Mila handed her a glass of vodka and curled her legs under her on the couch.

"Okay. Tell me everything," she said. "You've got that look like you just solved a murder."

Sierra took a slow sip. "There's someone else. I haven't confirmed who. But the jewellery receipt, the room service, the calls during that trip, they don't lie."

Mila whistled. "Damn. He's really outdone himself."

Sierra nodded, her face unreadable. "I haven't confronted him. I need more. I don't know if he slept with her or if she's some obsessed woman from the conference. But someone texted me from a burner phone, told me to ask about Boston."

"Creepy," Mila muttered. "You think she's still around?"

"Possibly," Sierra said. "Or maybe she was never really gone."

Mila paused, watching her closely. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to dig deeper," Sierra said calmly. "No accusations yet. I want the truth, all of it, before I make any move."

That weekend, Sierra and Liam hosted a private dinner at their Hamptons home. Investors, friends, and associates filled the patio, sipping wine beneath string lights and murmuring about the couple's empire.

Sierra smiled. She charmed. She clinked glasses and laughed on cue.

Liam played the part too, kissing her cheek, resting his hand on the small of her back, talking about expansion plans like nothing was unravelling behind closed doors.

But when she slipped away to the guest room where Liam had kept a locked travel case, she found what she'd been looking for: a second phone.

Hidden in a drawer. Tucked beneath a stack of unused business cards.

She turned it on.

There were messages.

Dozens of them.

A woman's name at the top: Isabelle.

Isabelle: I miss you. Last night was perfect.

Isabelle: She doesn't know, right?

Isabelle: I thought maybe this meant something to you too.

Sierra's breath caught. Her fingers tightened on the phone.

What did Liam mean by hiding this? If it was nothing, why the second phone?

She kept scrolling.

Isabelle: I'm late. I don't want to scare you, but we should talk.

Sierra's eyes narrowed.

Late? Late as in… pregnancy late?

But Liam was infertile.

She frowned, trying to piece it together. If he couldn't have children, then Isabelle was either lying or delusional. Or was Liam not "that" impotent? Maybe "late" meant something different?

Ughh… everything was so confusing

It didn't make sense.

She took photos of the screen, every message, every timestamp, every clue. Then she powered the phone off and tucked it back into the drawer, exactly as she'd found it.

Her heart was pounding, but her face remained composed. Calculated. Determined.

Back downstairs, Liam had just finished giving a toast. Their guests clapped politely as he stepped down and made his way toward her.

He leaned in and kissed her temple. "Everything okay?"

"Perfect," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Everything was far from okay.

Because this marriage wasn't built on love anymore.

It was built on secrets.

And secrets had a way of crumbling empires.