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.