The Billionaire's Perfect, Plastic Wife

For five years, I played the part of the perfect wife to Knox Steele, heir to a media empire. My life was a curated masterpiece, a reward for surviving the car accident his stepsister, Gemma, caused-an accident that was meant to kill me.

At a charity gala, I saw her. Gemma, supposed to be locked away in rehab, was glowing. She was holding the hand of a small boy. And next to her, laughing as the boy tugged on his jacket, was my husband.

Hiding in the shadows, I heard the boy call Knox "Daddy." I heard them planning his birthday party for the next day at our lake house-a "family-only" trip I was, as always, excluded from.

Then I heard Gemma' s voice, laced with poison. "What about Adelaide? Will she be a problem?"

"Don't worry about her," Knox said, his tone dismissive. "I'll tell her it's a business retreat. She'll stay home like a good little wife. Poor thing."

My entire five-year marriage was a performance. A carefully constructed cage to keep me quiet while they lived their real life right under my nose. I wasn't family. I was the cover story.

But the final betrayal was discovering their plan to drug my morning coffee, to keep me sedated and "unwell" so I wouldn't interfere with their celebration. They weren't just lying to me; they were going to incapacitate me.

That's when the woman he married died. I signed the divorce papers, walking away from billions. I wanted nothing from them but their ruin. And as I watched them cut the birthday cake at the lake house, I smiled. My gift was on its way.

Chapter 1

The charity gala was suffocating. Chandeliers dripped light onto a sea of fake smiles and expensive jewels. For five years, I had played my part as Adelaide Cole, the perfect wife to Knox Steele, heir to the Steele media empire. My life was a curated masterpiece, just like the art I used to appraise.

I excused myself for a breath of fresh air on the terrace. That' s when I saw her.

Gemma Logan.

My blood ran cold. It couldn' t be. Gemma, Knox' s stepsister, was supposed to be in a high-end rehab facility in Europe. For five years, that was the story. A tragic breakdown after the car accident. The accident she caused. The accident that was meant to kill me.

But there she was. Alive. Glowing. She held the hand of a small boy, maybe four or five years old. And next to her, laughing as the boy tugged on his jacket, was my husband.

Knox.

The sounds of the party, the clinking glasses, the soft music, all faded into a dull roar in my ears. My world narrowed to the three of them on the far side of the terrace, bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family.

My mind flashed back five years. The screech of tires. The smell of burning rubber. Gemma' s twisted smile behind the wheel of her sports car as she rammed my vehicle, sending me careening off the side of the road. I survived. Barely. The Steeles, led by the family patriarch Douglas, had swooped in. They called it a tragic accident, a symptom of Gemma' s deep-seated mental issues. A cover-up. Knox had come to me, his face a mask of guilt and sorrow. He proposed marriage, calling it his penance, his way to protect me, to make things right. I, a fool in love, had believed him.

I pressed myself back into the shadows of a large potted ficus, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I felt sick. My body felt weak, my knees about to give out. I had to hide. I couldn't let them see me.

Their voices drifted toward me on the cool night air.

"He's getting so big," Gemma said, her voice smooth and confident, nothing like the hysterical woman the media had portrayed five years ago. "He looks more like you every day, Knox."

"He has your eyes," Knox replied, his voice filled with a warmth I hadn't heard in years. He knelt and ruffled the boy' s hair.

"Daddy, can I have some more cake?" the boy asked, his small voice clear and bright.

Daddy.

The word hit me like a physical blow. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.

"Not tonight, Jase," Gemma cooed. "We have a big day tomorrow. It's your birthday, remember? We're all going to the lake house."

"Just us?" Jase asked.

"Just us," Knox confirmed. "Me, you, and Mommy. And Grandpa Douglas will come by in the morning to see you."

Grandpa Douglas. The ruthless billionaire who had personally assured me Gemma would be locked away for a very, very long time. The man who orchestrated this entire lie. He was in on it. All of them.

"What about Adelaide?" Gemma' s voice was laced with poison. "Will she be a problem?"

I held my breath, my entire being focused on his answer.

"Don't worry about her," Knox said, his tone dismissive. "I'll handle it. It' s the same as every year. I'll tell her I have a business retreat. She'll stay home like a good little wife. She still feels guilty about what happened to you, poor thing."

He said it with such casual cruelty. Poor thing. As if I were a pet he had to manage.

"Five years is a long time to keep up this act, Knox," Gemma said, a hint of impatience in her voice. "I want to be your wife. For real."

Knox stood up and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss right there in the open. "Soon, my love. I promise. Just a little longer. Dad needs everything to be perfect. We can't risk any scandals."

He kissed her again, then turned to the boy. "Come on, Jase. Let's go find Grandpa."

The world tilted on its axis. My five-year marriage. My life. It was all a performance. A carefully constructed cage to keep me quiet and compliant while they lived their real lives right under my nose. The love I thought we shared, the quiet companionship, the shared future-it was a ghost. A lie.

My legs gave out, and I sank to the cold stone floor behind the plant, gasping for air that wouldn't come. My phone buzzed in my clutch. The screen lit up with a name: Douglas Steele.

I stared at it, my hand shaking. He was calling to check on me. To make sure the puppet was still performing.

I answered, my voice a strangled whisper. "Hello?"

"Adelaide? Are you alright? You've been gone for a while." His voice was smooth, fatherly, laced with fake concern.

"I... I just needed some air," I managed to say. "Thinking about... Gemma."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Don't do that to yourself, my dear. It was a long time ago."

"I know," I said, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach. "I just... sometimes I wonder if she's okay."

The silence on the line was heavy with unspoken fear. He was panicking.

"I'll send Knox to come get you," he said abruptly, his tone suddenly clipped. "Stay right where you are."

He hung up.

A few moments later, Knox appeared in the doorway to the terrace, his handsome face etched with worry. It was a perfect performance.

"Addie? There you are. Dad said you were upset." He rushed to my side, trying to pull me into his arms.

I let him. I leaned into his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne now smelling like deceit. I forced a smile onto my face, a brittle, broken thing.

"I'm okay," I whispered, looking up at him. "I just... missed you."

He relaxed, his arms tightening around me. "I'm right here," he murmured into my hair.

I closed my eyes. His embrace felt like a coffin. Cold. Final. And in that moment, the woman he married died. A new one, forged in the fires of his betrayal, was born.

The ride home was silent. Knox drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console, inches from my own. The city lights blurred past the window, a smear of color in the darkness. He thought he had soothed the nervous pet. He thought everything was back under control.

"About Jase's birthday tomorrow," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "It' s that time of year again. The board retreat is at the lake house. You know how Dad gets. He wants it to be a private, family-only affair for the core team."

He' d used the same excuse, the same measured tone, for the past four years. Every year, on this exact date, he would go to a "business retreat" and I would be told to stay home. I used to think it was Douglas' s way of punishing Knox, of reminding him of his "duty" to me by separating us on a day that held significance for their real family. Now I knew the truth. It wasn't a punishment. It was a celebration.

"Of course," I said, my voice soft and compliant. "I understand. You should go. Don't worry about me."

I watched his shoulders relax. The tension bled out of him. He was relieved. He reached over and placed his hand on my knee, his thumb stroking my skin. "Thanks for being so understanding, Addie. You're the best."

I flinched. It was a small, involuntary movement, but he noticed.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Just tired," I said quickly, forcing a yawn. "It was a long night." I placed my hand over his, a gesture that had once been comforting, but now felt like touching a snake. "I'll be fine. I'll probably just sleep in and catch up on some reading."

He seemed to accept it. He turned his attention back to the road. I dug my fingernails into the palm of my other hand, the sharp pain a welcome anchor in the swirling vortex of my emotions. It kept me focused. It kept the tears at bay.

When we got back to our penthouse, a gilded cage overlooking the city, he suggested a nightcap.

"I need to take a shower first," I said, pulling away before he could kiss me. "I feel sticky from the party."

He nodded, already loosening his tie. "I'll wait for you in the study."

The moment I was in our bedroom, the door shut, I leaned against it, my composure crumbling. I took deep, shuddering breaths. Then, I walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower to create noise, and slipped back out. I went straight to his study.

For five years, I had respected his privacy. I never once entered his study without an invitation. I trusted him completely. The irony was a bitter pill in my throat.

I sat in his large leather chair. It still held his warmth. The screen of his laptop was dark. I pressed the power button.

The screen lit up.

My breath stopped.

The wallpaper was a family portrait. Not our family. Theirs.

Knox stood with his arm around Gemma. In front of them, a little boy with bright, laughing eyes held Knox' s hand.

Jase.

It was a perfect family. A happy family.

My body trembled so hard the desk shook.

I moved the mouse. The password screen appeared.

A password. He was so careful.

But I knew him. Or I knew the man he pretended to be. He was sentimental about the wrong things.

I typed in a date. 0-8-1-5.

Jase's birthday.

The computer unlocked.

A folder on the desktop was labeled "Family." My hand shaking, I clicked it open.

It was a nightmare. Hundreds of photos. Jase' s first steps. Jase blowing out birthday candles, year after year. Knox teaching Jase how to ride a bike. Gemma and Knox kissing under a Christmas tree, Jase asleep in Knox' s arms. Vacations I was never invited on. Holidays I spent alone, believing he was working.

And in so many of the photos, another smiling face. Douglas Steele. He was holding Jase, his face alight with a grandfatherly love I had never seen him display. He looked proud. He looked happy.

I remembered asking Douglas once, timidly, if I could have a photo of his late wife, Knox's mother, for our living room. He had looked at me with cold, dismissive eyes. "We don't dwell on the past, Adelaide," he'd said. But here he was, creating a new past, a new family, built on the ashes of my life.

The phrase Knox had used echoed in my mind. "Family-only affair."

I was never family. I was a placeholder. A bandage on a wound they never intended to let heal. I was the cover story.

My phone buzzed on the desk beside me. A text from an unknown number.

He's mine, you know. He always has been. Enjoy your big, empty bed tonight.

Gemma.

She was taunting me. She wanted me to know. She wanted me to suffer.

The study door opened. Knox stood there, a drink in his hand, a questioning look on his face.

"Addie? I thought you were taking a shower."

My heart leaped into my throat. I quickly slammed the laptop shut.

"The water was taking a while to heat up," I improvised, my voice shaking slightly. "I just came to get a book."

He walked further into the room, his eyes scanning the desk. "I'm heading out early tomorrow," he said, his voice casual, but his gaze was sharp. "Probably before you're even awake. The helicopter is picking me and Dad up at the downtown office."

It was another lie. He wasn't going to the office. He was going to Gemma. To their son.

"Don't work too hard," I said, my voice a hollow echo of the loving wife I used to be.

He was going to celebrate his son's birthday. With his real family. And I was just the fool left behind to keep the house warm.

I didn't reply to Gemma's text. Responding would give her the satisfaction she craved. Instead, a cold, clear purpose began to form in the ruins of my heart. I needed to see it all for myself. Not just in pictures, but in person. I needed the truth to burn away every last shred of hope.

The next morning, after Knox left, I drove to a small town an hour away from the city. I knew from a brief mention in a society column years ago that Gemma's mother had owned a small cottage there. I also knew that one of the Steele family's long-time housekeepers, Maria, had been abruptly reassigned to that cottage after a vocal disagreement with Gemma. Maria had always been kind to me.

I found her in the town's local market. She looked older, more tired. When she saw me, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Mrs. Steele? What are you doing here?"

I didn't waste time. I offered her money, a significant amount, enough to retire comfortably. "I need to get into the cottage, Maria. Just for an hour. I need to see it."

Her face hardened at the mention of Gemma. "That woman is a devil," she muttered. "She treats everyone like dirt. But Mr. Knox... he lets her get away with everything." She looked at the cash I held out. "I can't let you in when they are there. But they are going to the town fair this afternoon. For the boy's birthday. They should be gone for a few hours."

She agreed. For the money, and for a small measure of revenge against the woman who had made her life miserable.

Later that day, dressed in a plain janitorial uniform I bought from a supply store, a baseball cap pulled low over my face, I followed Maria to the cottage. It was a large, secluded property, hidden behind a tall gate and a wall of trees. A fortress for their secret life.

Maria let me in through a service entrance. The first thing I saw as I stepped into the foyer stopped me dead.

Hanging on the main wall was a massive, oil-painted family portrait.

Knox, Gemma, Jase, and Douglas. They were all there, smiling, immortalized in paint. Knox had his hand on Jase' s shoulder. Gemma leaned against him, her expression triumphant. Douglas stood behind them, a benevolent patriarch presiding over his true dynasty. I wasn't just excluded; I was erased.

"They had it commissioned last year," Maria said quietly, her voice full of pity. "Mr. Steele said it was to celebrate 'family continuity'."

My chest felt tight, as if a band was constricting around my lungs. Maria led me through the house under the pretense of showing me what needed cleaning. She pointed out a silver rattle on a shelf.

"Mr. Steele had that custom-made for Jase's first birthday," she explained. "Solid silver, with the Steele family crest."

I remembered when I was pregnant, years ago, a pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage shortly after the "accident." I had asked Douglas if there were any family heirlooms, something small I could have as a keepsake for our child. He had coldly informed me that the Steeles were not sentimental.

Maria then pointed to a small, crudely carved wooden boat on the mantelpiece. "Mr. Steele made that for him himself. Spends hours with the boy in his workshop whenever he visits."

Douglas, the man who couldn't be bothered to have a five-minute conversation with me, spent hours carving a toy for a child he was pretending didn't exist to the rest of the world.

"He dotes on that boy," Maria added, shaking her head. "Talks about him being the future of the company. Says he's smarter than any of his other grandchildren."

The pain was sharp and visceral. He didn't just have a secret family; he had a favorite one.

I continued my fake cleaning, moving into what was clearly Knox's and Gemma's shared bedroom. On the nightstand, a silver frame held a photo of Knox and Jase, both grinning, on a fishing trip. I opened a drawer. It was filled with more photos. Dozens of them. Every holiday, every milestone, every "business trip" Knox had ever taken was documented here, with them. The lies piled up, image by image, until I was drowning in them.

Just then, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. They were back early.

"They're here!" Maria hissed, her eyes wide with panic. "Quick, hide in the pantry!"

I scrambled into the small, dark space just as the front door opened. Laughter filled the house.

"Did you have fun, birthday boy?" I heard Knox say.

"The best!" Jase shouted.

I peeked through the slats in the pantry door. I saw them walk past, a perfect picture of domestic bliss. Jase was holding a giant stuffed bear. Knox had his arm around Gemma's waist.

They settled in the living room, just feet from my hiding spot. I could hear every word.

"I can't wait until we don't have to hide anymore," Gemma said, her voice dropping. "When are you going to get rid of her, Knox? It's been five years."

My blood froze. Get rid of me.

"I told you, I'll handle it," Knox said, his tone placating. "Dad and I have a plan. We just need to wait for the right time. The Steele Media merger is at a critical stage. Any hint of a scandal, especially a messy divorce, could kill the deal."

So that's what I was. A placeholder until a business deal was done. An obstacle to be "handled."

My world, which had been cracking all day, shattered completely. There was no love. No penance. Just cold, hard calculation.

Tears streamed down my face in the darkness of the pantry. I had to get out. I waited until they moved toward the kitchen, and I made a run for the back door.

As I slipped out into the garden, I fumbled with the latch on the gate. It was stuck.

"Who's there?"

I froze. It was Knox's voice. He was coming out the back door.

I yanked harder at the gate, my heart pounding. It finally gave way. I didn't look back. I just ran.

I heard his footsteps behind me, getting closer. "Hey! Stop!"

I scrambled into my car, which I'd parked down the street, and fumbled with the keys. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely fit the key in the ignition.

He was almost at the car. I could see his face through the window, a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

I finally got the engine to start and slammed my foot on the gas. The car lurched forward. In the rearview mirror, I saw him standing in the middle of the road, staring after me, his face a dark silhouette against the setting sun. He didn't recognize me in the janitor's uniform, but I knew the seed of doubt had been planted. He had seen something.