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No Heir For The Cheating Billionaire
img img No Heir For The Cheating Billionaire img Chapter 4 4
4 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 img
Chapter 12 img
Chapter 13 img
Chapter 14 img
Chapter 15 img
Chapter 16 img
Chapter 17 img
Chapter 18 img
Chapter 19 img
Chapter 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 img
Chapter 32 img
Chapter 33 img
Chapter 34 img
Chapter 35 img
Chapter 36 img
Chapter 37 img
Chapter 38 img
Chapter 39 img
Chapter 40 img
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Chapter 4 4

The next morning, the heavy oak doors of the Jacobson Group boardroom swung open. Hadley walked in, dressed in a black Tom Ford pantsuit that was less a piece of clothing and more a suit of armor.

The murmur of conversation died instantly. A dozen pairs of eyes, belonging to the most powerful men in New York finance, turned to her.

Cleveland, seated at the head of the long mahogany table, did not look up, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. He hadn't expected her here. Her seat on the board was a courtesy, a title he'd given her at the time of their marriage to appease his grandfather. He never expected her to use it.

She took her designated seat, directly across from him, and opened the folder in front of her.

The meeting was about the Meyer Acquisition Project, Cleveland's latest obsession. One of his VPs was at the front of the room, clicking through a PowerPoint presentation filled with optimistic projections and promises of massive returns.

"Excuse me," Hadley said, her voice cutting through the drone of the presentation.

The VP stopped, startled. All eyes were on her again.

"I happened to overhear some troubling rumors regarding the target company's environmental compliance issues in Ohio," she said coolly. She slid a folder-not a comprehensive audit, but a carefully compiled collection of local news clippings and public environmental complaints-across the polished table toward the board secretary. "Given the massive scale of this project, I suggest the board commission an independent risk assessment before moving forward."

The documents highlighted a pattern of alleged violations at a Meyer-owned chemical plant in Ohio. It raised the distinct possibility of future class-action lawsuits and EPA fines that could potentially run into the hundreds of millions if left unchecked.

A low buzz filled the room as the board members began to whisper among themselves. The tide of easy support for the deal was turning.

Cleveland's face was a thundercloud. He shot her a look that promised murder, but she met his gaze without flinching.

The vote was called. The acquisition was officially shelved, pending further investigation. It was a major, public defeat for Cleveland.

After the meeting, he cornered her in the hallway. "What the hell was that?" he hissed, his voice tight with fury. "You're using my company to settle a personal score?"

"I'm fulfilling my fiduciary duty as a board member," she replied, her voice icy. "I'm protecting the company's assets. Something you should be more focused on."

She walked away, leaving him seething in the hallway.

Thirty minutes later, she was seated in a discreet corner of a private coffee club overlooking Central Park. Across from her sat Julian Croft, the most feared divorce attorney in Manhattan. He hadn't originally planned to take her case, but assessing a potential high-profile conflict-or measuring the leverage of a dangerous new adversary-was an essential part of his job. He had agreed to this brief meeting out of a calculated curiosity, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of her posture as he sat immaculate in a three-piece suit.

She pushed a copy of the prenuptial agreement-painstakingly taped back together-across the table.

Julian read through it, his brow furrowing. Finally, he set it down and sighed. "This is a fortress, Mrs. Jacobson. It was designed by the best lawyers money can buy."

He explained the legalese. The trust was protected unless she could prove "long-term, continuous, and egregious fault." A simple affair wouldn't be enough.

Hadley took out her phone, played the explicit audio recording from the Tribeca apartment, and then calmly placed the crystal-studded Louboutin heel on the table between them.

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. "An audio clip and a shoe prove one night of indiscretion. It's not enough to break the trust. He'll paint it as a one-time mistake. The judge will see a financial demand, not a moral outrage."

Her heart sank. The coffee cup felt heavy in her hand.

Julian leaned forward, his voice dropping. "But," he said, a glint in his eye, "this document protects him only as long as he remains rational. If you want to win, you can't just prove he's a cheater. You have to make him lose control. You have to push him until he makes a mistake so big, so public, that no judge can ignore it."

Hadley looked up, a spark of fire returning to her eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good," Julian said, a thin smile playing on his lips. "Because this is no longer a divorce. This is a war."

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