The Billionaires Cold And Bitter Betrayal

The Billionaires Cold And Bitter Betrayal.

NOVEL STATUS: ON GOING

PUBLISHED CHAPTERS: 200+ CHAPTERS

The Billionaires Cold And Bitter Betrayal – Sneak Peek

The rain mixed with the tears on her face, hot and salty against the cold water. She let out a short, jagged laugh that sounded more like a sob. She had almost died today. She had faced the ground rushing up to meet her. And yet, that impact hadn’t hurt half as much as this.

The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, humming at a frequency that seemed to vibrate directly against Anjanette’s skull. She blinked, her eyelids feeling like sandpaper, and tried to lift her right arm. A sharp, searing pain shot from her shoulder down to her wrist, forcing a gasp from her dry throat. She gritted her teeth against a wave of dizziness — a lingering ghost of the concussion the doctor had warned her about. She looked down. Her arm was wrapped in thick gauze, stark white against the bruising already blooming violet and green along her skin.

She was alive.

The memory of the turbulence, the screaming alarms of the private jet, and the terrifying silence that followed the crash rushed back in a fragmented, chaotic wave. She remembered the cold air tearing through a breach in the fuselage.

She remembered waiting for the end.

A nurse bustled into the room and checked the IV bag hanging beside the bed, her eyes moving to the equipment rather than to Anjanette’s face.

“Excuse me,” Anjanette croaked. Her voice was a ruin. “Has anyone been here? My husband?”

The nurse paused, her gaze flickering toward the door before returning to the chart in her hands. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable.

“Just the flower delivery, Mrs. Horton. From a Gertrude Horton. No visitors.”

Gertrude. Adam’s grandmother. The only one who had ever looked at Anjanette with anything other than disdain. But Adam?

Anjanette reached for the phone on the bedside table with her good hand. The screen was cracked, a spiderweb of fractures distorting the glass, but it flickered to life. She tapped the call log. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.

𝖸ou𝗋 n𝘦𝘅𝘵 𝖿a𝘃о𝘳𝗂𝘵𝘦 𝗿е𝘢𝘥 iѕ оո 𝗀а𝗅𝗇𝘰𝘃е𝗅ѕ.𝘤о𝘮

There were three missed calls. All from the insurance company regarding the aircraft.

Zero from Adam.

She opened the news app. The headline screamed in bold black letters: Horton Private Jet Emergency Landing — Pilot and Passenger Survive. Below it was a photo — not of the crash site, but a file image of Adam, looking dashing and severe in a charcoal suit, cutting a ribbon at a new tech hub in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The article’s timestamp read two hours ago.

Adam was smiling in the photo. He was cutting a ribbon while she was bleeding in a ditch.

A coldness that had nothing to do with the hospital air conditioning settled deep in her marrow. It began in her chest and spread outward, numbing her fingertips. She wasn’t just unimportant to him. She was nonexistent.

She reached up and ripped the IV tape from her hand.

“Ma’am! You can’t do that!” the nurse yelped, dropping the chart.

Anjanette didn’t look at her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was freezing against her bare feet.

“I am signing out against medical advice,” Anjanette said. Her voice was stronger now, fueled by a sudden, icy rage. “I have a Grade 2 abrasion and likely a mild concussion. I will monitor for vomiting and pupil dilation myself. Give me the paperwork.”

The nurse stared, stunned by the shift — by the medical terminology flowing so calmly from the woman they had assumed was simply a traumatized trophy wife.

Ten minutes later, Anjanette walked out through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room. She wore her hospital gown tucked into a pair of oversized scrubs the nurse had pitied her with, topped by a thin disposable windbreaker.

It was raining. Of course it was raining. A cold New York drizzle that soaked through the thin fabric instantly, plastering her hair to her forehead.

She stood on the curb, shivering. She didn’t want to go back to the penthouse. The thought of that glass-walled mausoleum made her stomach turn.

A sleek black vehicle rounded the corner, its headlights cutting through the gloom. Anjanette’s breath hitched. She knew that car — a Bentley Mulsanne, the extended wheelbase edition. Adam’s car.

For a split second, a pathetic hope flared in her chest. He had come. He had heard.

She stepped back behind a concrete pillar as sudden shame washed over her. She looked like a wreck. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

The car didn’t stop at the general pickup area. It glided past her, smooth and silent, and pulled up to the VIP entrance fifty feet away. The driver, a man she knew well, stepped out, popped a large black umbrella, and opened the rear door.

Adam stepped out.

Anjanette pressed herself against the cold concrete. He looked impeccable — no tie, top button undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set tight. He looked worried.

– Continue in A The Billionaires Cold And Bitter Betrayal chapter 1 –