The Employee I Married Was a Billionaire Heir

Chloe Watkins leaned closer to the mirror, her hand steady as she applied the final, perfect coat of ruby-red lipstick. The woman staring back at her had eyes bright with anticipation.

Tonight was the night.

On her dresser sat a small, velvet box. Inside was a watch she had saved for three months to buy, a sleek, designer piece for her boyfriend, Carson Barber. A surprise for their two-year anniversary.

Her phone screen lit up. 7:00 PM.

He was already thirty minutes late.

A small frown creased her brow. She dialed Carson's number. It went to voicemail after a single, abrupt ring. He had hung up on her.

Her stomach tightened.

She called again. This time, he answered, his breathing heavy. Noise echoed from his end of the line. "Hey, Chloe, I'm so sorry," he rushed out. "Something urgent came up at the office. A last-minute meeting. I might be really late."

"Carson, we've been together for two years," she said, the disappointment a sharp sting. "You knew what today was."

"I know, I know, and I feel terrible. Just focus on work first, okay? I'll make it up to you," he promised. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Though her heart sank, she forced a gentle tone. "Okay. Just... be safe."

She ended the call and stared at the candlelit dinner for two growing cold on her small dining table. A sigh escaped her lips.

Then, an idea sparked. She would bring the celebration to him.

From the refrigerator, she carefully retrieved a chocolate lava cake she had baked herself, placing it gently into a pastry box.

She kicked off her heels, slid into comfortable flats, and grabbed the gift and the cake. A quick cab ride later, she was on her way to his apartment.

A sweet smile played on her lips as she pictured the look of surprise on his face when she showed up.

The taxi pulled up to his building. She paid the driver and hurried inside, her heart fluttering.

In the elevator, she checked her reflection, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She wanted to look perfect.

She walked down the hallway to his apartment door, her excitement building with every step. As she raised her hand to knock, a strange sound from within stopped her.

It was a woman's laugh. Soft, but unmistakable. It was followed by a low, breathy moan.

Chloe's heart plunged.

It's the neighbors, she told herself. It has to be the TV.

Her hand, now trembling, slipped into her purse and found the spare key Carson had given her months ago. She inserted it into the lock and slowly turned it. The door opened a few inches.

She peered through the crack. The living room was dark, but a sliver of warm, dim light escaped from under the bedroom door.

The sounds were clearer now. The woman's voice was one she knew as well as her own.

It was her sister, Jacey Watkins.

The blood in Chloe's veins turned to ice. With a hand that felt disconnected from her body, she shoved the door wide open.

The sudden noise from the entryway startled the people in the bedroom. The sounds stopped.

A moment later, Carson emerged from the bedroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His hair was damp and messy.

His eyes widened in panic when he saw her. "Chloe? What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer. Her gaze shot past him, fixed on the bedroom behind him.

Jacey peeked out, wearing nothing but one of Carson's oversized dress shirts. When she saw Chloe, there was no shame in her eyes. Only a flicker of triumphant cruelty.

A sharp crack echoed in the silent apartment.

The cake box and the gift slipped from Chloe's numb fingers, splattering chocolate and cream across the floor. A dark, messy stain, just like the one spreading through her chest.

The room spun. She grabbed the doorframe to keep from collapsing, her breath catching in her throat.

"Chloe, listen to me," Carson stammered, rushing toward her. "It's not what you think..."

But Jacey stepped out, leaning against Carson's tense body. "Brother-in-law," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "What's the point in hiding it now? I love him. And he loves me."

Carson froze. He didn't push Jacey away.

His silence was the confession.

Chloe stared at the two of them, a grotesque portrait of betrayal. Two years of her life, of her love, had just become a punchline. Her world was cracking, splintering into a million pieces.

She took a ragged breath, fighting back the metallic taste of bile rising in her throat. She lifted her chin, her eyes turning to chips of ice.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry.

Her voice was a raw, quiet rasp.

"Carson," she asked, "when did it start?"

Faced with Chloe's cold question, Carson's lips moved, but no words came out. Guilt and panic warred in his eyes.

Jacey tightened her grip on his arm, answering for him. "Sister, you can't force feelings. Carson and I are in love."

Chloe's gaze remained locked on Carson, ignoring her sister completely. "I asked you. When?"

Under her relentless stare, Carson finally choked out the words. "Six... six months ago."

Six months.

The words detonated in Chloe's mind. Six months ago was when she was working double shifts, exhausting herself to help pay for her brother Johnathan's tuition.

The bitter irony was a physical blow, making her stumble back against the wall. A choked, wounded sound escaped her lips.

Just then, her phone shrieked. It was her mother, Janis Watkins.

Chloe's hand shook as she answered. Janis's sharp voice immediately assaulted her ear. "Chloe Watkins! Where are you? Don't forget your brother's living expenses are due this month. You don't think paying Jonathan's tuition was enough, do you?"

Hearing her mother's voice, Jacey immediately began to sob into the phone she was holding. "Mom, come quick! Sister... she misunderstood about me and Carson! She's going to hit me!"

Chloe stared in disbelief at Jacey's blatant lie, her body trembling with a rage so profound it left her speechless.

Half an hour later, Janis, her father Howard, and her brother Johnathan stormed into the apartment.

They didn't see the half-naked couple. They saw Jacey, weeping pitifully, while Chloe stood by the door like a villain.

Janis shoved past Chloe and rushed to embrace Jacey. "My sweet girl, are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

Howard Watkins surveyed the mess on the floor and frowned at Chloe. "Chloe, can't you handle things without making such a scene?"

Johnathan walked over to Carson and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey man, don't worry about it. My sister's just got a temper. She'll get over it."

Chloe watched the absurd theater unfold. Her family. Not one of them asked if she was okay. Not one of them cared that her heart had just been ripped out.

A cold, humorless laugh escaped her. She pointed a trembling finger at the couple. "Mom, you should be asking your precious daughter and your 'future son-in-law' what they were just doing."

Jacey's crying intensified. "Dad, Mom, we couldn't help it! We truly love each other! Please, just let us be together!"

Janis spun around, her eyes glaring at Chloe. Her words were daggers. "Chloe! Jacey is your sister! She's always been frail. As the older sister, can't you just let her have this?"

Howard sighed. "She's right, Chloe. For the sake of the family's reputation, just let it go. You can find someone else."

"Yeah, Sis," Johnathan chimed in. "Carson's been so good to our family. If you chase him away, who's going to buy me the new PlayStation?"

Listening to them, Chloe felt like a stranger. No, she was a stranger.

Seeing Chloe's silence, Janis's tone grew even harsher. "Don't you forget, you're just the adopted one! If it wasn't for us, you would have died in that fire! We're asking you to give up one man, and you're this unwilling?"

That sentence struck Chloe like lightning, leaving her shattered. She finally saw the truth. In this family, she was, and always would be, the disposable outsider.

Throughout the entire family drama, Carson remained silent, standing by Jacey's side. He had made his choice.

Chloe's tears finally fell. Not for Carson, but for the twenty years of foolish devotion she had wasted on these people.

She wiped her tears, straightened her spine, and looked at each person in the room. Her gaze was filled with disappointment, finality, and a chilling coldness they had never seen before.

Without another word, she turned and walked away. She left everything behind, as if to bury her past in this filthy, suffocating place.

Seeing her resolute back, Carson felt a strange pang in his chest. He instinctively moved to follow her, but Jacey held him back tightly.

"Go on, leave and don't come back!" Janis screamed after her. "You ungrateful thing!"

Chloe didn't turn around. She walked into the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, she made a vow to herself.

This family, I don't want it anymore.

This love, I don't want it anymore.

Chloe stepped out of Carson's apartment building into the cold midnight air. The wind on her face was a harsh slap of reality.

She had nowhere to go. The place she had called home for twenty years was no longer hers.

She walked aimlessly down the street, the ugly faces of her family and Carson's betrayal replaying in her mind like a horror film. Each image was a knife twisting in her heart.

She ducked into a 24-hour convenience store, bought a bottle of water, and sat by the window. The city lights blurred past, making her feel utterly disconnected from the world.

A firm resolve hardened within her. She had to leave them, completely. Not just move out, but become fully independent, financially and emotionally.

She pulled out her phone, scrolling through job sites and rental apps.

The reality of New York City's exorbitant rents mocked her meager savings.

A wave of powerlessness washed over her. On her own, escaping their grip would be nearly impossible in the short term.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious penthouse on the Upper East Side, the atmosphere was just as cold.

Hardy Lewis stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the city. He had just ended a video call with his father, Clarence Lewis, and the air still crackled with tension.

He downed his whiskey in one gulp, the glass making a sharp sound as he set it on the marble table.

Clarence had threatened him again, this time to cut off all his funds if he didn't agree to get engaged to Gemma Beaumont, the adopted daughter of the Beaumont family, by next week.

Hardy's phone buzzed. It was his father's assistant, calling to inform him that a reservation had been made for his meeting with Miss Beaumont.

"Tell him I'm busy," Hardy said coldly, and hung up.

The pressure from his family was suffocating. He needed a wife, yes-a tool to get them off his back. But it would not be Gemma.

A blurry image of a girl flashed in his mind, his childhood playmate, Chloe Beaumont. The girl who had disappeared after that fire all those years ago.

On the call, Clarence had mocked him for chasing a ghost, for rejecting a perfect match like Gemma for a memory.

Hardy opened the safe in his study. Inside lay a faded photograph of a little girl with pigtails and a tiny, crescent-shaped scar on her temple.

His finger gently traced the image, a rare softness in his eyes. He had to find her.

Back in the convenience store, Chloe's phone rang again. Janis.

She declined the call and blocked the number. She had made her decision. She would rather sleep on the streets than go back.

She began to consider all her options, even extreme ones she would have never entertained before. She needed something, a catalyst, to break free from this nightmare.

In his penthouse, Hardy made a decision, too. He could no longer wait passively. He picked up his phone and called his chief assistant, Kristoffer Parrish.

"Kristoffer," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Use every resource. Find me a woman. A woman I can marry."

Kristoffer paused on the other end. "Sir, you mean... any woman?"

Hardy's gaze fell back to the photograph. "No," he said, his voice low and firm. "Not just any woman."

"Find her. Or find someone... who looks just like her."

Two separate lives, pushed to their breaking points, were now hurtling toward a single, intersecting path.

As Chloe scrolled through her phone, an ad post caught her eye: "Seeking a marriage of convenience. Housing and financial issues solved." She swiped past it instantly, but the idea, like a seed, had been planted in her mind.