Bought by the Billionaire Devil

I balanced the brown paper bag of takeout in one arm while fishing for my keys with the other. The long day at the architecture firm had left my shoulders tight with tension, but tonight would make it all worthwhile. Lucas had texted earlier, asking me to pick up dinner from our favorite Thai place—the one where we'd had our first date. Two years together, and he still remembered little details like that. The thought warmed me as I finally located my keys at the bottom of my purse.

The apartment was oddly quiet when I pushed the door open. Usually, Lucas would have music playing or the TV on—background noise he claimed helped him think while working on his investment portfolios.

"Lucas?" I called out, setting the food on the small entryway table. "I got the drunken noodles you like, extra spicy."

That's when I noticed them. A pair of nude stiletto heels carelessly discarded by the door. My stomach dropped. I recognized those shoes—the red soles, the particular shade of nude leather that Jessica had spent weeks hunting down because they were "investment pieces."

My best friend's shoes. In my apartment.

Before my mind could form a rational explanation, I heard it—laughter. Intimate, conspiratorial laughter drifting from the bedroom. *Our* bedroom.

My feet moved without conscious command, carrying me down the hallway that suddenly seemed miles long. The bedroom door wasn't fully closed, a strip of light spilling onto the hallway carpet. I pushed it open, and the world I thought I knew shattered.

Lucas was scrambling to pull on his pants, his chest still bare. And there on our bed—the bed where I'd slept beside him just last night—was Jessica. She was propped against my pillows, the sheet barely covering her naked body, a cigarette dangling between her manicured fingers. She knew I hated smoking in the apartment.

"Emily," Lucas said, not meeting my eyes as he zipped his pants. There was no shame in his voice. No remorse. Just mild annoyance at being interrupted.

"What is this?" My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Jessica took a long drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. "Oh, honey," she said, her lips curving into a smirk that didn't reach her eyes. "I think it's pretty obvious what *this* is."

The casual cruelty in her tone made my knees weak. This woman had been my best friend since college. She'd held my hand at my father's funeral. She knew about my mother's cancer diagnosis before anyone else. She'd been my confidante, my sister in everything but blood.

"How long?" I managed to ask, my throat constricting around the words.

Lucas sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Does it matter?"

"Six months," Jessica answered, examining her nails with feigned boredom. "Though if we're being honest, it's been brewing since before you two even got together. We just...reconnected recently."

The room spun. Six months. Half a year of lies. Of planning dinners