Rejected By My Ex, Claimed By His Billionaire Boss

Renée stood frozen in the doorway, her heart pounding as she took in the scene before her. Her hand instinctively shot up to cover her mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape.

There, tangled in the sheets of her own bed, was her boyfriend, Shawn, entwined with another woman. The intimacy of their position, the way his hands moved over her body, left no doubt in Renée's mind about what had just occurred.

But it wasn't just any woman. As Renée's vision sharpened, she recognized the familiar cascade of blonde hair, her best friend, Lucy Winfred. The betrayal cut deeper, twisting like a knife in her chest.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Renée bellowed, her voice trembling with fury and hurt, "Shawn!"

Without a second thought, Renée's hand shot out, grabbing the heavy vase from the table beside the door. With a cry of rage, she hurled the vase at Shawn with all her might, her hand trembling as she released it. She didn't care whether it would hit him or not.

Shawn's eyes widened in panic as he realized what was happening. He scrambled to pull away from Lucy, who was equally startled, her face paling as she recognized the rage in Renée's eyes. Shawn barely managed to duck as the vase hurtled toward him, crashing into the wall just above the headboard with a deafening sound.

Renée's eyes blazed with fury as Shawn's words cut through the thick silence. "Renée, have you gone mad?" His voice was sharp, tinged with anger. "Did you just try to kill me?" He demanded, his tone incredulous as he glared at her.

Lucy, standing beside him, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she directed a cold, judgmental glare at Renée.

The sight of Lucy, her so-called best friend, standing there so brazenly after what she had done, made Renée's blood boil.

Renée's voice trembled with disbelief as she choked out, "How dare you both do this behind my back? Tomorrow is our engagement day, Shawn!"

She then turned to Lucy, her eyes pleading for an explanation. "And you, Lucy, why did you do it?" She struggled to comprehend how her best friend could betray her so completely.

Shawn's face hardened at Renée's words. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Don't say anything to Lucy," he snapped, his voice growing louder with each word. "It is good that you witnessed all this because I am not getting engaged to you!"

Renée stopped blinking at that moment. This wasn't just a betrayal; it was a complete and utter rejection. Everything she thought she knew, everything she had built with him, was crumbling before her eyes.

"What did you say?" she asked. She was supposed to confront him, to demand answers, but now it felt like the ground was slipping from beneath her feet. How had it turned into this? Why did it suddenly seem like she was the one to blame?

Before Shawn could respond, Lucy's voice cut through the air. "Renée, did you not hear him? Shawn doesn't want to be with you. Now, leave!" Lucy spat, her tone dripping with bitterness and contempt.

Renée's anger flared up. Without thinking, she stormed toward Lucy, her hand flying out before she could stop herself. The sound of the slap echoed through the room. Lucy stumbled back, her hand instinctively covering her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

"This is for eyeing someone else's man," Renée hissed with fury. The slap hadn't eased her pain, but it had given her a brief satisfaction.

Shawn's reaction was immediate and fierce. He barked at Renée, his voice filled with a fury she had never heard before, as he shoved her away from Lucy. His movements were rough, filled with anger as he moved to comfort Lucy, touching her cheek gently where Renée had struck her.

Then Shawn turned his glare back to Renée, his eyes dark with loathing. He pointed his finger at her, his words cold and cutting. "If you want to walk on your legs, leave this house and never show us your disgusting face again. I hate you," he declared, each word like a slap in Renée's face.

The man she had loved, the man she had planned to marry, was gone, replaced by someone she barely recognized. Renée couldn't believe her eyes. "You promised me," she uttered in a loud enough voice.

"One who doesn't even have a family name dreamt of marrying me! It's such an irony," he sneered with contempt. "Gosh! Even looking at you fills me with disgust and makes me mad." His relentless tirade left no room for Renée to defend herself, his intent clear, to humiliate her, to strip her of every last shred of dignity she had.

Lucy, emboldened by Shawn's behavior, spoke up with an air of superiority. "Shawn, just throw her out of our house," she demanded coldly.

"Your house? It's mine!" she declared, wiping the tears from her eyes. This was her home, the place she had built her dreams in, and she wasn't about to let them take it away so easily.

But Shawn wasn't done with his cruel game. He smirked, a twisted satisfaction in his eyes, as he walked over to the bedside table. Opening the drawer, he pulled out a stack of papers and held them up in front of Renée. "It's not yours, you foolish woman," he said, his voice mocking. "It's in my name now. So, stop calling my house yours."

Renée's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the papers in his hand. She felt as if the ground beneath her was crumbling away. Her throat went dry, and her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. How had he done this? How had he taken everything from her without her even realizing it?

Before she could react, Shawn snatched the papers from her and handed them to Lucy, who accepted them with a smug smile. Renée's shock quickly turned to desperation as she lunged forward, trying to grab the documents from Lucy. "Give me the papers! This isn't yours," she cried out, her voice filled with panic.

But Shawn was quicker. He grabbed her arm, and yanked her away from Lucy. Without a word, he began dragging her out of the room, ignoring her frantic protests. Renée struggled against him, her pleas falling on deaf ears as he dragged her down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, Renée finally managed to break free. Fueled by a mix of rage and desperation, she swung her hand with all her might, landing a hard slap across Shawn's face. "You, bastard!" She cussed at him.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. Shawn's face contorted with fury, his eyes blazing with anger. In a flash, he grabbed a fistful of Renée's hair, yanking her head back cruelly.

"Ahhh!" Renée screamed in pain, but her cries only seemed to spur him on. His grip tightened as he dragged her out of the house.

With a final, vicious shove, Shawn threw Renée out of the house, her body hitting the cold ground outside the main gate.

"Now, leave and never show me your face again," he declared, turning on his heels and disappearing through the gates of the house without a second glance.

Renée watched him go, her vision blurred by tears that refused to stop. She raised a trembling hand, trying to push the disheveled strands of hair away from her tear-stained face, but it was a futile effort. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

The man she had loved, the man she had devoted everything to, had betrayed and rejected her in the most brutal way imaginable. Her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest and shattered into a million pieces, the pain of it all leaving her numb and speechless. The future she had once envisioned with him lay in ruins, replaced by a deep, gnawing sense of loss and despair.

Renée slowly stood up from the cold, hard ground, her legs trembling beneath her. She turned to look at the house one last time, the place that had been her home.

It had been a gift from her godfather at the orphanage, a man who had seen something in her worth protecting, worth giving a home to. And now, through her own naivety and misplaced trust, she had signed it all away. How could she have been so foolish, so blind to the deception that had been unfolding right under her nose?

Renée had nowhere to go. That house had been her only refuge, her only sense of stability. Without it, she was lost. She had no stable job, no savings to fall back on. Her position at work was still precarious, not yet a full-time role that could offer her any real security. The realization that she was utterly alone, with nothing to her name, hit her like a wave of despair.

With heavy steps, Renée began to walk away from the only home she had ever known. Everything felt so dark in that moment to her. She didn't know where she was going, but there was one place that called to her in her sorrow-the bar. It was the only place she could think of, the only place where she could drown her pain, even if just for a little while.

Ordering three bottles of alcohol, she finished them soon. However, the pain in her heart was unbearable, and no amount of alcohol seemed to dull it. She took another swig, hoping to drown the sorrow that threatened to suffocate her. But the ache persisted.

Her stubborn tears continued to flow. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, but they only kept coming.

As she stared at the empty bottle in her hand, a wild thought crossed her mind. She imagined smashing the bottle against Shawn's head, imagining the shattering glass as some kind of release for all the pent-up rage inside her.

The thought brought a twisted satisfaction, a fleeting fantasy of vengeance that she knew she could never carry out. But for a brief moment, it felt good to imagine.

Gripping the bottle tightly, Renée stood up, her movements unsteady as she dragged her feet toward the exit. The world around her was a blur of colors and sounds, everything muffled by the fog of alcohol and grief. She barely noticed where she was going, her only focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Suddenly, her head collided with something solid, stopping her in her tracks. The impact jolted her slightly, and she instinctively looked up, her dazed mind trying to process what had just happened.

When her eyes met his, the world seemed to come into sharp focus. Renée's breath caught in her throat as she found herself staring into the ocean-blue eyes of the man standing before her.

For a moment, everything else faded away-the pain, the heartbreak, the alcohol-induced haze-replaced by the sheer intensity of his gaze. His eyes were like the depths of the ocean, deep and mesmerizing, pulling her in without warning.

"My boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend," she confessed to the stranger. She didn't know why she was telling this to a man she had never met before, but in that moment, it didn't seem to matter. She needed to say it out loud, to make it real, to make sense of the chaos in her heart.

As if the absurdity of her situation had suddenly hit her, Renée began to laugh-a wild, desperate sound that quickly dissolved into sobs. Her laughter echoed through the lounge, drawing a few curious glances from nearby patrons, but most of them quickly looked away.

The man before her seemed unfazed by her outburst, his expression remaining unreadable. He brushed past her, intent on leaving, when Renée, driven by a sudden surge of desperation, reached out and grabbed the edge of his sleeve.

"I want revenge on him," she blurted out.

He stopped, turning back to look at her, his ocean-blue eyes meeting hers once again. Before he could tell her to let go, Renée's body betrayed her. Her head lolled forward, crashing into his chest as her legs gave way beneath her.

The bottle she had been holding slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor with a sharp sound.

"Shawn is evil," she murmured weakly, her words barely audible. "I want to destroy him." And then, before she could say anything more, the darkness closed in, and she fainted, her consciousness slipping away as she fell into the arms of the handsome stranger.

The man caught her easily, his arms wrapping around her to keep her from hitting the floor.

The morning sun rays slipped through the gaps between the curtains and fell on Renée's calm face. Her eyes moved and her hand instinctively rested above them. Her sleep was already disturbed and she could feel the throbbing headache already.

Finally, Renée sat up, her head rested on the headboard as she pressed her fingers on her forehead to relieve some pain. Opening her eyes gradually, Renée was shocked to find herself in a room of which she was unaware of.

"Where am I?" Renée murmured and swung her legs down the bed after pushing away the duvet. She stood up while still holding her head. Renée recalled the events from the last night, but could only recall drinking in solitude.

"Why can't I recall after that?" Renée panicked, wondering if someone kidnapped her. Frantically, she ran out of the room and straight down the stairs in the living hall.

Her feet abruptly came to a halt when her eyes fell upon the same stranger she had met last night. Renée then recalled what exactly happened. She told this man how she was being cheated by her boyfriend. No, the Ex-boyfriend and best friend.

"Ahh, I," Renée stuttered, unable to form the words.

"Please have a seat," the man said, pointing to the sofa chair next to him. He placed the tablet on the table and waited for Renée to take the seat.

Renée was hesitant at first, and finally settled on the sofa. She clasped her fingers together and kept her head low. "Thank you for bringing me here last night," she expressed her gratitude and again gazed at him.

"I am Killian Morrison," the man finally introduced himself as he leisurely rested his back on the sofa. "I usually don't help people unless they are useful to me, Miss Findlay," he pronounced coldly.

Renée's eyes grew large, pondering why he knew her name. And what did he mean by he only helped those who were useful to him?

"How do you know my name, Mister Morrison?" asked Renée while rubbing her hands in nervousness.

"It was not tough for me to find out," Killian replied.

Renée realized that the man before her wasn't some ordinary man. By looking around the house, she could tell Killian was some kind of millionaire or perhaps a billionaire.

'Rich people are the worst,' Renée thought in her mind. They would find their benefits in everything.

"I think I should take my leave," Renée kept her tone as polite as she could. "Thank you for helping me last night. I hope I have not troubled you much," she said, giving a tiny smile to him. As she stood up from her place, Killian spoke up.

"Kindly sit, Miss Findlay. I am not done yet." He sounded authoritative, causing Renée to sit down immediately.

'What does he want now? Money?' Renée thought to herself.

"What more does Mister Morrison want to talk about?" Renée asked with a slight hesitation in her tone.

"I want you to become my wife," Killian pronounced.

"What?" Renée exclaimed in shock. She must have heard him wrong. "I'm sorry? You must be joking," she still refused to believe her ears.

"Do I look like joking to you?" Killian's calm face suddenly stormed with strictness. It felt like he was scolding Renée.

"I think you have lost your mind," Renée said with a chuckle. She decided to leave as soon as she could from that place.

"Watch your words before speaking with me, Miss Findlay," Killian warned her. "Last night anything could have happened to you because of the state you were in. Grabbing a stranger's sleeve and asking for his help isn't something welcomed by every man there," he asserted.

"Absolutely right, Mister Morrison. However, asking a woman to marry you is something that can anger anyone easily," Renée stated.

"Do you even know who I am?" Killian arched his eyebrows.

"Why do I have to know you?" Renée questioned. She rolled her eyes because this man was giving her more headache.

Killian gritted his teeth. He had never encountered such a person before who would dare to speak in such a tone with him. But then, what could he even expect from people like Renée?

"What are you staring at?" Renée broke the silence, causing him to look at her.

"I know that drunkard people usually forget the things they blabber," Killian commented.

"Did you call me a drunkard?" Renée's eyes widened in anger.

"Well, you were last night. Also, be respectful when you talk to me," Killian stated.

"Respect is earned, not demanded. And arrogant people like you don't even need any kind of respect," Renée declared and rose to her feet once again. "I am leaving. Thank you for helping me last night," she stated and turned to leave.

As she took a few steps forward, Killian's warm hand grasped her wrist and the next second, she found herself back to the sofa chair. Killian's both hands rested on the hand rests while his face was dangerously close to her.

The distance was so tiny that Renée could feel his hot breath against her lips.

"In front of me, such an attitude doesn't work. Do you get it?" Killian asked her.

Renée nodded absentmindedly at Killian, only to realize what she had done moments later, causing her to quickly shake her head in defiance. Killian sighed, his patience thinning as he watched her. He couldn't understand this woman-her demeanor, her resistance. It infuriated him how she constantly underestimated his presence and authority.

"Even if you didn't grasp everything I said, let this be clear," Killian's voice cut through the tension, his tone sharp and commanding. "Do not ever show me that attitude again. I hate it," he pronounced with icy calm, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on her.

Renée swallowed hard, a wave of uncertainty washing over her. She didn't know what kind of man stood before her, but the intensity in his words left no room for doubt about his power. Still, she chose to keep quiet, holding back the questions brewing in her mind.

Killian's gaze remained locked on her, unyielding. "You want revenge," he continued, his voice dropping lower but no less firm. "Because your ex-boyfriend and your longtime best friend betrayed you, cheated on you. That's what you told me." He paused, studying her reaction before pressing on. "You said you needed help, and I am offering that help."

Renée blinked, trying to steady her racing thoughts under the weight of his intense stare. He wasn't just stating facts; he was presenting a solution, and she wasn't sure she was ready for what was coming next. She raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance as she asked, "And how exactly would you help me get that revenge?"

Killian's lips curved into a small, almost sinister smile. Without hesitation, he replied, "By becoming Killian Morrison's wife."

Renée's breath caught in her throat as she watched him straighten up, his full height towering over her, his presence overwhelming. The words hung in the air, their weight sinking in slowly. Wife? She couldn't have anticipated this, and now, faced with such a bold declaration, she felt both stunned and intrigued.

The idea of aligning herself with a man as powerful and enigmatic as Killian terrified her, but at the same time, a dangerous part of her considered the possibility. Could this be the ultimate way to claim the revenge she so desperately sought?