The Genius Heiress Divorces Her Billionaire

"Where is he, Mitch?"

Arline Monroe gripped her phone. She pressed her fingernails so hard into her palm that the skin broke. The sharp sting grounded her.

"Mr. Caldwell is currently unavailable, Mrs. Caldwell."

The voice of her husband's personal assistant cracked over the speaker.

"It is our third anniversary. It is past midnight. Where is my husband?"

Arline asked the question again. Her chest tightened. Her lungs felt like they were shrinking.

She stared at the small box wrapped in a silk ribbon sitting on her vanity. The box held a vintage watch she spent six months tracking down for Edgardo.

"He had an emergency. He is in the West Wing."

Mitch rushed the words out and ended the call. The line went dead.

Arline dropped the phone on the vanity. The device hit the wood with a loud smack.

A cold knot formed in her stomach. The West Wing.

The Caldwell estate was a massive property in Washington D. C. The main house belonged to Edgardo and Arline. The West Wing belonged entirely to Kenia Caldwell.

Kenia was an orphan the Caldwell family took in twenty years ago. The family claimed she was Edgardo's adopted sister. Kenia had a weak heart and a fragile immune system. Edgardo treated her like a glass doll. He made a strict rule three years ago. No one was allowed to disturb Kenia in the West Wing.

Arline stood up. Her silk nightgown brushed against the thick carpet.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She needed to see him. She needed to know why her husband chose his adopted sister over his wife on their anniversary.

Arline pushed open the heavy oak door of the master bedroom.

A blast of cold air hit her face. The autumn wind leaked through the old stone walls of the estate.

She walked barefoot onto the marble floor of the hallway. The cold stone sent a shiver up her spine.

Thunder shook the floorboards. Lightning flashed outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The bright light illuminated the oil paintings of the Caldwell ancestors on the walls.

Arline walked into the glass corridor that connected the main house to the West Wing.

Rain slammed against the glass roof. The noise was deafening. Water seeped through a crack in the window frame and dripped onto her bare shoulder.

She flinched at the freezing temperature. She wrapped her arms around her waist, but she did not stop walking.

She reached the end of the corridor. The heavy double doors to Kenia's private suite stood in front of her.

The doors were not closed. A two-inch gap let a slice of warm, yellow light spill out into the dark hallway.

Arline stopped breathing. She stepped closer to the gap.

She looked through the opening.

Edgardo Caldwell sat on the edge of a large, plush bed. He wore his expensive tailored trousers and a white dress shirt. His tie was gone. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone.

He looked relaxed. Arline