Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109 Rejecting Her Fifty Million Bribe

I stood by the wide windows, looking down at the waking capital city. The morning sun offered a harsh, blinding glare against the steel skyscrapers. It felt like a spotlight aimed directly at the wreckage of the legacy families.

Diego Morales sat at my dining table. He spread six different morning newspapers across the smooth surface.

Every single front page featured the exact same photograph.

It was a file image from a gala last winter. Tristan Johnston and Celeste Whitmore stood side by side on a red carpet. Tristan looked stoic, his jaw set in a hard line. Celeste wore a bright smile, her hand resting on his arm, the heavy Johnston diamond flashing on her finger.

The headlines screamed in bold, black text.

THE ROYAL WEDDING OF THE CAPITAL: HEIRESS CELESTE WHITMORE ANNOUNCES SPRING NUPTIALS.

“She initiated the media blitz at four in the morning, Diego reported. He tapped the thickest newspaper. “She paid triple the standard rate to clear the front pages. She bought digital billboard space across the financial district. The official date is set for the second week of May. Five months from now.”

I walked over to the table. I picked up a paper and studied Celeste’s frozen, printed smile.

“She is terrified,” I observed.

“She is trying to build a cage out of public opinion,” Diego agreed. He pulled up his digital tablet, scrolling through real-time analytics. “She wants to trap him. She knows if the entire city expects a wedding, backing out will cause a massive hit to the

Johnston Group stock. She is forcing his hand.”

“Where is Tristan?” I asked.

“Missing,” Diego said. He looked up, his dark eyes serious. “He skipped the morning executive briefing. He ignored a direct summons from Harriet Montgomery. The Johnston internal communications channel is in absolute chaos. His grandmother sent a private security team to his penthouse two hours ago. He refused to open the door.”

“What is he doing?” I pressed.

“He is tearing his own intelligence division apart,” Diego answered. “My contacts inside his firm say he fired his lead investigator at midnight. He demanded raw data from every charity hospital in Port Sterling. He wants intake logs. He wants shift schedules. He is hunting your ghost, Minerva. The man is not sleeping. He is bleeding out.”

I dropped the newspaper back onto the table.

Tristan was unraveling. The guilt and the desperate need for the truth were eating him alive. He stood in the cold outside my building, begging for answers. Now, he isolated himself, ripping the city apart to find the proof I refused to hand him.

Celeste saw the cracks forming. She watched the man she intended to marry lose his mind over another woman. She panicked. She

threw millions of dollars at the press to create an illusion of control.

‘Pack the files, I instructed Diego. “We have a company to run. Let them tear each other apart.”

She did not say a word. She opened her designer handbag. She pulled out a sleek leather checkbook and a silver pen. She placed them on the glass surface.

She scribbled a number, signed her name, and ripped the slip of paper free, She slid the check across the desk.

I looked down. Fifty million dollars.

“Take it,” Celeste demanded. Her voice cracked. It lacked the usual arrogant sneer. It sounded thin and desperate. “Take the money.

Pack your bags. Take the boy. Leave the country today.”

I picked up the check. I held it between my fingers, studying the ink.

“You are spending a fortune to buy a man who does not want you, Celeste, I noted. I kept my voice calm, a stark contrast to her frantic energy.

“He wants his legacy, Celeste snapped. She placed both hands flat on the desk, leaning forward. “He wants his empire. I am his equal. I belong in his world.”

“Then why are you standing in my office offering me fifty million dollars?” I asked.

Her shoulders slumped. The anger drained away, leaving nothing but sheer panic.