The Betrayed Wife's Billion-Dollar RevengeChapter 1
After his first affair, Adam James developed a sudden, violent case of mysophobia. He took no fewer than eight showers a day.
By the ninth, he would scrub until his skin turned raw and bright red, nearly flaying himself alive.
I had rushed over then, wrapping my arms around him.
"Stop washing," I pleaded. "I forgive you. Isn't that enough?"
Adam dropped the showerhead and fell to his knees. He slapped his own face, over and over, the sound echoing off the tiles.
"I'm a fucking bastard," he sobbed. "I've wronged you, Layla."
Tonight, Adam took me to a banquet hosted by a business partner.
I drank too much. Needing air, I stepped outside—only to see him guiding Lola Henson into the backseat of our car.
With trembling hands, I pulled up the in-car surveillance on my phone. Two tangled bodies filled the screen.
My mind went blank. Adam's voice, hoarse with lust, filtered through the speakers.
"Baby, I missed you so much!"
He held her tight, his breath ragged.
"Just to make Layla believe I'd changed, I've been living like a monk for a whole month!"
The words barely left his mouth before they were tearing at each other's clothes.