The Billionaire's Rebound Wife

"So, when's the wedding?"

Dylan stopped laughing the moment his mother's question sank in. He lifted his gaze and caught her watching him closely, as if waiting for his answer. A small smile slowly curved on his lips as he slipped an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

"We're just waiting for the right time, Ma," he said softly.

His mother's brows immediately drew together. "You and Brielle aren't getting any younger, son. What exactly are you still waiting for-"

"Don't force our son, Layla."

His father's voice cut his mother off, making it hard for Dylan not to smile.

"Dylan can decide for himself. He's old enough. And besides, Brielle isn't in a rush anyway. Right, Brielle?"

At his father's question, Dylan turned his attention to his girlfriend. He looked at her, quietly waiting for her response. Brielle Clarkson met his gaze. He didn't miss the subtle pout on her lips before she turned to his parents and flashed them a sweet smile.

"Of course, Tito. I can wait for Dylan. I understand that he's busy with work. I'll wait until he's ready," she answered gently.

Dylan pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. He could hear the frustration hidden beneath her words. He knew she wasn't telling the truth.

"Right. I heard you're working on something new, Dylan," his mother said, quickly changing the topic. "Whose case is it again?"

Dylan couldn't help but feel relieved.

Talking about marriage made him feel suffocated. He didn't think he was ready for that conversation-not yet.

He nodded slowly and smiled at his mother.

"It's the senator's case, Ma. I'll probably be busy for the next few months since he refuses to admit anything."

"Senator Clemente?" his father asked. "I saw him on the news the other day."

Dylan nodded.

"Is your Uncle Damon the prosecutor?"

"Yes," Dylan replied with another nod. "I might stay at Uncle Damon's place for a few days, Pa. It'll be easier to talk there without interruptions. I already informed Tita Ivy."

Declan Fontanilla let out a soft chuckle.

"Son, you're old enough. You don't have to ask for permission from your mother and me about that anymore," he said jokingly.

Dylan shook his head.

"I'm just giving you a heads-up. I don't want you thinking I got murdered somewhere just because I didn't visit and you couldn't find me at my place," he joked.

Instead of laughing, both his parents suddenly turned serious.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

"M-Ma! You said Lance made donuts. Where are they?" he blurted out, trying to change the subject.

His parents shook their heads in unison, making Dylan rub the back of his neck again. He momentarily forgot that he couldn't joke like that around them. Convincing them to let him become a police officer hadn't been easy-his mother had been terrified that he'd get hurt or killed on duty. When they finally agreed, he promised them he would never let that happen.

"Your brother baked last night because he knew you were coming," his mother said as she stood up and walked toward the refrigerator. "But he had work today, so you missed him."

Dylan let out a quiet sigh of relief when she didn't scold him further.

Soon after, his father excused himself to get ready. It was their cousin's birthday, and they were heading there after lunch. His mother placed the donuts on the table before following her husband upstairs.

When his parents were gone, Dylan and Brielle were left alone at the dining table. Dylan immediately reached for his favorite donut and started eating.

He abruptly stopped when he noticed Brielle shaking her head beside him.

He turned to her, one brow raised.

"Is there any problem?" he asked casually.

To his surprise, Brielle hissed,

"You embarrassed me earlier," she said irritably, avoiding his gaze.

Dylan's brows lifted again.

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything wrong-"

"You did!" she snapped loudly.

Dylan instinctively glanced at the second floor, worried his parents might come down and see the scene unfolding.

He exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down.

"Lower your voice. Mama and Papa might hear you."

Brielle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"I was already humiliated in front of them earlier, so what else is there to worry about?"

"I didn't embarrass you-"

"You did!" she shouted again. "What was that about waiting for the right time to get married? What right time are you talking about? Dylan, I want to get married. I've been waiting for you."

He sighed deeply before reaching for her hand.

"Babe, I still have work-"

"There you go again!" she cut in. "Is that stupid job really more important than me? Why are you still working there when you could just take the company that's supposed to be yours? Isn't Inara supposed to be yours? But because you insist on staying in that cheap job, your cousin's living like a queen while you're stuck working all the time!"

Dylan's jaw tightened. He wanted to tell her not to belittle his profession, but he held back. Arguing would only make things worse.

He sighed again and gently rubbed her hand, trying to calm her down.

"You want to get married?" he asked softly.

Brielle nodded quickly.

He sighed once more.

"Fine. Let me just finish this case, then we'll plan-"

"When?" she cut him off. "You said the same thing before and never followed through. If you don't want to get married, just tell me now so I won't keep waiting!"

"Brielle, of course I want to marry you. It's just that my work-"

"It's always work!" she snapped. "Dylan, what am I in your life? If you really loved me, you would've married me a long time ago."

He closed his eyes briefly before responding.

"Brielle, I love you. You know that. But I can't just abandon my job. Once we're married, where will we get money for our daily expenses if I don't work? What about your lifestyle? Your dad won't give you money anymore, Bri. I don't want to disappoint Tito."

Instead of understanding, she scoffed.

"I told you-take the company from your cousin. That was supposed to be yours! How do you expect to get rich if you stay in that job?"

Dylan shook his head again.

"My profession is not cheap, babe. Don't degrade it in front of me," he said firmly.

"Whatever. If you don't resign from that job, I don't think I can be with you anymore. You never have time for me. I'm tired of begging for your attention. I'm tired of this setup, Dylan!"

"So that's why you want to get married?" he asked. "Bri, married or not, nothing will change. I'll still have to work even harder after the wedding. I need to save up for us-"

"I don't care!" she cut him off again. "My friends are getting married! Why won't you marry me? Like your mom said earlier, we're not kids anymore. Why can't we just get married right away?"

Dylan rubbed his temples in frustration.

"Marriage comes with responsibility," he said calmly. "And it takes time. We don't need to rush-this isn't a race. Once we're married, you're my responsibility. What would your father say if I couldn't even feed you because I ran out of money? I don't want to disappoint anyone, Brielle."

Instead of replying, she stood up abruptly and glared at him.

"Just say it. You don't want to marry me," she said angrily before turning her back on him.

"Babe! Where are you going? It's Iverson's birthday-"

"I don't want to fake smiles in front of your cousins. Just leave me alone," she snapped before storming out of the house.

Left alone, Dylan shook his head and let out a long, heavy sigh. He leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. He didn't know how he would explain to his parents why Brielle suddenly left.

His patience was wearing thin, but he forced himself to calm down.

"You love her, Dylan. That's what you get for loving her," he murmured before reaching for the chocolate donut in front of him.

"Really?" he muttered bitterly. "Right in front of my donut?"

He took a bite, his expression sour as memories from just minutes ago replayed in his mind. He shook his head again and frowned.

Maybe one day, she'd finally understand him.

Maybe.

"Lieutenant, the senator's daughter was looking for you earlier."

Dylan was pulled out of his thoughts by his coworker's voice. He looked up, brows knitting slightly. "Where is she? Why was she looking for me?" he asked.

Sergeant Estrella lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "She ran into Attorney Fontanilla here, so they talked outside. I'm not sure where they went, but they just left," he explained, earning a nod from Dylan.

"I'll follow. I'll just call Attorney first," Dylan said, referring to his uncle, Attorney Damon Fontanilla. "Call me if anything comes up. Did Senator Clemente's daughter visit her father or-"

"No, Lieutenant. She was really just asking for you. Then Attorney Fontanilla arrived, so they talked instead. I didn't get to ask why she came since she didn't even look in on her father," Sergeant Estrella answered again.

Dylan nodded. "You, Elijah, and Aidan handle things here for now. I won't be long."

Sergeant Creed Estrella nodded back and jokingly gave a salute. "Copy, boss."

Dylan couldn't help but shake his head at that. He set his bag down and was about to leave when Creed spoke again, making him pause.

"Lieutenant... were you with Ma'am Brielle yesterday?"

Dylan's brows immediately drew together. He looked at Creed, confused. "No. Why?"

"Ah-nothing. Maybe I was just mistaken," Creed said quickly, shaking his head.

Still puzzled, Dylan brushed it off. Maybe Creed had seen Brielle with her male friends-or her bodyguards. With a small shrug, he headed out of the police station.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his uncle's number. It hadn't even rung long when the call was answered, making Dylan let out a quiet breath of relief.

"Dylan," his uncle greeted from the other line.

"Tito," Dylan replied. "The guys said Senator Clemente's daughter stopped by. Did you talk to her?"

"Oh, about that-yes. We're talking now. Are you still at the station? We're just nearby if you want to come."

"Yes, Tito. I was actually about to follow you. Where are you?"

He scanned his surroundings, trying to guess where they might be. Almost on cue, his eyes landed on the coffee shop a few meters away from the station. "Coffee shop, Tito?" he added.

"Yes, that's right. Hurry-Senator Clemente's daughter is about to leave."

There was a brief pause, and Dylan thought the call was over.

"Are you busy, Miss Clemente?" he heard his uncle ask someone on the other end.

"Not really," came a soft reply.

Dylan frowned slightly.

He straightened. "I'm on my way, Tito."

"All right. We'll wait for you here," his uncle said before ending the call.

Dylan took a deep breath and slipped his phone into his pocket. He adjusted his uniform before crossing the street toward the coffee shop where his uncle and Senator Clemente's daughter were waiting. Maybe-just maybe-she could help with the case. The chances of her volunteering as a witness were slim, but still... there was always a possibility.

He reached the coffee shop quickly and spotted Attorney Fontanilla seated toward the back. Across from him sat a woman, her back turned to Dylan. He couldn't see her face, so he walked closer.

"You've been here long, Tito?" he asked as he took the seat beside him.

He froze the moment he saw the woman's face.

She was clearly younger than him-probably around the same age as his girlfriend. Twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven. She wore a white blouse, her long curly hair loose around her shoulders. She looked... innocent. So far removed from the kind of woman his girlfriend was.

"You must be Senator Clemente's daughter," Dylan said. "I'm Lieutenant Dylan Fontanilla. I'm guessing you already know my name, since you were looking for me earlier?"

She didn't answer right away. Her eyes stayed on him, making him suddenly self-conscious. After a moment, she nodded and looked away. "I-I'm Kaia Clemente," she introduced herself, her voice unsteady.

Dylan nodded. "They said you were looking for me. Why? I assume this is about your father?"

Kaia nodded. "I just wanted to ask if my d-dad is really going to jail. Is there... no way to fix this?" she asked, clearly nervous.

Dylan sighed, disappointment settling in. From her tone, it sounded like she was about to ask for mercy on her father's behalf. He shook his head. "The government prosecutors have filed a plunder case against your father, Miss Clemente. Billions of dollars in misused congressional funds. Billions," he emphasized. "On top of that, he's involved in drugs and prostitution. There's no way out of that."

He saw her swallow hard. It finally seemed to sink in how serious the charges were. And honestly, she looked like someone who had benefited from that stolen wealth. From her clothes alone, she screamed high maintenance. Dylan knew it was expensive when he saw it-his cousin dressed the same way.

If her father went to prison, the money would disappear. No wonder she was here.

"H-how long... how long will he be in jail? If he does get convicted, I mean?"

Dylan studied her face. She was looking down now, hands resting on the table-hands that were visibly trembling.

"Fifteen years," his uncle answered for him. "The charges are heavy. He won't be getting out easily-"

"Only?"

Dylan stiffened. He turned to her slowly. "What did you say?"

She smiled at him... sweet, almost too sweet. "Nothing," she said as she stood. "He might be looking for me since I haven't visited. Tell him I don't plan on seeing him anymore. You can do whatever you want with him. I don't care."

"From the way you talk about your father, it doesn't sound like you like him," Dylan said, frowning. "If you do decide to testify-"

"Nah."

She cut him off immediately. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she opened it as if looking for something. "I don't like associating myself with people like that. I already have enough problems. I'm not adding more."

"But-"

"You were hoping for something, right?" she said lightly. "That I'd beg you to let my daddy walk free? God. I didn't know police officers could be that gullible."

"What are you talking about?" Dylan asked sharply.

She smiled and glanced around the coffee shop. "I know a journalist who saw us earlier. Good thing I acted fast, and that I'm good at pretending. Otherwise, people might think I'm a horrible daughter for wanting my daddy to rot in jail. I'm too smart to fall into their trap," she continued calmly. "If news spreads that I tried to bribe you to free him, that's on you. Clean it up yourselves."

Dylan's lips parted in shock, but before he could say anything, she picked up her expensive bag from the table.

"Call me once you've finally put my daddy behind bars," she said. Then, without warning, she took his hand and slipped something into it.

Dylan gulped.

She smiled at him one last time before turning her back and walking away.

Dylan sat there, stunned.

"Damn."

"What's that?"

He snapped out of it when his uncle spoke, pointing at Dylan's hand. Dylan looked down slowly.

It was a calling card.

Kaia Clemente.

"What's with that face, Dylan? You look miserable."

Dylan frowned even more when he heard his cousin's comment. Iverson dropped onto the seat beside him and handed him a glass of wine. Dylan shook his head slightly, like he wasn't fully there, before taking it.

"What do you want?" he asked, taking a slow sip.

Iverson let out a quiet laugh. "Do I need a reason just to sit with you? Wow. You really know how to make someone feel welcome," he said, shaking his head.

Dylan scoffed. "Then why are you here?"

"Danielle and Maurice told me to check on you. They said you looked like you needed someone to talk to."

Dylan shook his head again. Those two. "Do I really look like I need someone to talk to?" he asked, letting out a bitter laugh.

"You've been sitting there alone all night. You've looked stressed for hours," Iverson said with a yawn. "What is it? Work? That case? The one involving Senator Clemente?" He waved it off. "I already know. Even my dad's stressed because of that. He barely sleeps anymore. Mom yelled at him last night. Honestly? He really deserved some scolding from Mom."

"It's not work," Dylan said quietly. "It's not about that."

And it wasn't. Work was the one thing going right in his life. He was doing well. He's one step away from a promotion. Everything should've felt steady.

"Oh." Iverson turned to look at him properly. "Then that means it's a woman."

He wasn't even asking. He sounded completely sure.

Dylan sighed deeply, the weight in his chest pressing harder. They were so close to finally putting Senator Clemente behind bars. And he had promised Brielle they'd get married once it was over.

"What about Brielle?" Iverson asked. "Did you two fight again?"

Dylan slowly shook his head. "Surprisingly, no. She's been... fine these past few days. She hasn't been getting mad at me over my job."

"Oh." Iverson raised an eyebrow. "Then what's the problem? You should be happy. Your girlfriend's not throwing tantrums for once."

Dylan stayed quiet.

That was part of it, wasn't it? He should be relieved. Grateful, even. But instead, something felt off. Like something was wrong and he just couldn't name it.

"I promised her we'd get married after the case is done," he finally said.

Iverson blinked. "What? But didn't you say you weren't planning on getting married this year?"

Dylan inhaled sharply. "I wasn't. But she wants to. And we've been together for a long time. Maybe my mom's right... maybe it's time."

The truth was, he wasn't ready. Not even close. There were still so many things he wanted to do, things he wanted to become. Sometimes he felt like he and Brielle didn't even fully know each other yet. But he didn't want to lose her. She had already gotten angry so many times because he kept postponing marriage. If he refused again, this time she might really walk away.

"Why does it sound like you're forcing yourself?" Iverson asked.

Dylan sighed and took another drink. "It's not forcing. I'm just... not ready."

"But didn't you tell us before that Brielle doesn't want you to be a cop?" Iverson pressed. "What about that?"

Dylan nodded, his jaw tightening as he drank again. "That's part of the problem. She wants me to quit and take over Inara from Maurice. You know she's not on good terms with our cousins, right? And seriously.. What does she think of my profession? I'm doing well where I am. I don't want to take the business just because I earn less. And I'm not even interested in that life... but she keeps insisting I should just give up my job."

Iverson fell silent.

Dylan drained the rest of his glass.

"If you're really planning to marry her, and that's how she sees your career," Iverson said slowly, "then you need to think about this carefully." He looked straight at Dylan. "You should be with someone who helps you reach your dreams. You don't have to stay with someone who doesn't respect them. Love isn't just about being happy all the time. Look at our parents. Look at the kind of love they have." He paused. "Do you honestly think that's what you and Brielle have?"

Dylan rubbed his temples, frustration pounding in his head. Of course he wanted someone who understood him. Deep down, he knew Brielle didn't.

But he loved her. More than anyone.

Was he really willing to lose her over his ambitions?

He let out a long breath and stood up. "I still have time to think," he said. "I'll deal with it after the case is over."

"You need to choose wisely," Iverson called after him. "Brielle isn't the only person who could love you. What if there's someone else? Someone who understands why your job matters to you?"

Dylan didn't answer. He just exhaled sharply and walked away, ignoring the cousins who greeted him on his way to his room. He was too exhausted to pretend he was okay.

Before going to sleep, he checked his phone. No message from Brielle. Just like before.

He shook his head. Maybe she was busy.

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing nonstop. Confused by the flood of messages and missed calls, he started reading them one by one.

And in an instant, his world stopped.

It felt like ice water had been poured over him. His lips trembled as he read through the messages. Some were furious at Brielle, some were trying to comfort him. There were too many to process, too many words, all colliding at once. His mind refused to catch up.

They were telling him the same thing.

A piece of news that shattered everything he thought he knew.

His girlfriend, Brielle Clarkson, was set to marry someone else.

And it wasn't him.