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.