Chapter 2 - The Taste of Revenge
The silence that fell over the entrance of L'Aura was deafening.
Dylan’s eyes darted from the bowing restaurant manager to Jacob, and then to the sleek Rolls-Royce idling at the curb. His brain seemed to be short-circuiting, unable to process the data before him. "Van Der Bilt? No... no, that's impossible. The Van Der Bilt family hasn't been seen in public since the tragic asset split three years ago. Jacob Van Der Bilt went missing. He was presumed dead or exiled!"
Jacob offered a calm, dangerous smile. "Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, Dylan."
Chloe stood frozen, her mind spinning. She looked at Jacob—really looked at him. The broad shoulders, the flawless posture, the clean nails she had noticed on the sidewalk. It all made sense now. He hadn't been a man broken by poverty; he had been a man hiding in plain sight. But why? why would a billionaire sleep on concrete and eat leftover diner food?
"Mr. Van Der Bilt," Dylan’s father, Richard, suddenly appeared from inside the restaurant lobby. He had clearly overheard the commotion. Richard was a ruthless real estate mogul known for crushing small businesses, but right now, he looked like he was about to vomit from sheer terror. "My son... my son is an idiot. He doesn't know what he's saying. Please, forgive his disrespect. Our firm has been trying to secure a meeting with your board of trustees for eighteen months!"
Jacob looked at Richard, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Your son just told my wife that she was 'just a waitress' and that she lacked sophistication. He also threatened to use your family name to bar her from entering this establishment."
Richard turned on Dylan, his face contorting with rage. "You absolute moron! Get out of here! Get out of my sight before you ruin this family completely!"
"But Dad—" Dylan protested, his voice cracking like a child's.
"Get out!" Richard roared.
Dylan looked at Chloe, his eyes pleading, begging for her to say something to save him. For three years, Chloe had always been the peacemaker, always smoothing over his flaws, always swallowing her own pride to make him look good.
Chloe looked him dead in the eye, took Jacob’s arm, and smiled. "We have a reservation to get to, Dylan. Don't let the door hit your ambition on the way out."
With a look of utter humiliation, Dylan turned and practically ran down the street, his blonde companion scrambling to keep up with him in her high heels.
"Shall we?" Jacob asked smoothly, guiding Margo’s wheelchair forward.
The private suite of L'Aura was breath-taking. It was located on the top floor, featuring floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the glittering expanse of the city skyline. A private string quartet played softly in the corner, and a team of five waiters stood at attention, ready to anticipate their every whim.
Chloe’s mother, Helen, was practically vibrating with excitement. She spent the first twenty minutes of the dinner trying to subtly interrogate Jacob about his lineage, his portfolio, and his properties.
"So, Jacob, dear," Helen purred, sipping her crystal flute of vintage Champagne. "Chloe was always so quiet about your relationship. Where exactly have you been hiding yourself? A penthouse in Manhattan? A villa in Monaco?"
"I've been keeping a low profile, Helen," Jacob replied smoothly, cutting a piece of Wagyu beef with mathematical precision. "I find that wealth can attract the wrong kind of attention. I preferred to see who people truly are when they think I have nothing to offer them."
He looked directly at Chloe as he said it. Chloe’s heart did a strange, violent flip. He was referring to her. She had treated him with kindness, fed him, and talked to him like a human being when she thought he was a homeless man. She hadn't wanted anything from him. And in return, he had just saved her from the deepest humiliation of her life.
But as the night went on, the fairy tale began to crack.
While Helen was distracted by a spectacular dessert presentation involving gold leaf and spun sugar, Grandma Margo reached over and took Chloe’s hand.
"He's a good man, Chloe," Margo whispered, her eyes shining with tears. "I can see the way he looks at you. He respects you. My heart is at peace now, baby. I know you'll be taken care of when I'm gone."
A sharp lance of guilt pierced Chloe’s chest. It’s a lie, she wanted to scream. We got married an hour ago at a courthouse just to trick you! We're getting divorced in three months! She looked at Jacob, expecting to see a look of detached amusement or corporate coldness on his face. Instead, she saw a profound, heavy sadness in his eyes as he watched Margo.
"Excuse me," Chloe said abruptly, standing up. "I need to use the restroom."
She practically bolted out of the private suite and down the elegant hallway. She locked herself in a marble bathroom stall, pressing her forehead against the cool stone. Her life had gone from a depressing tragedy to a high-stakes corporate drama in less than twelve hours. Who was Jacob Van Der Bilt? And what kind of dangerous game had she just agreed to play?
When she finally gathered her composure and stepped out of the bathroom, she froze.
Standing in the dim hallway, waiting for her, was a woman. She was impeccably dressed in a sharp, white power suit, her red hair pulled back into a flawless, tight bun. Her eyes were sharp, calculated, and entirely predatory.
"Chloe Evans," the woman said, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. "Or should I say... Mrs. Van Der Bilt?"
"Who are you?" Chloe asked, stepping back defensively.
The woman took a step forward, clicking her designer heels against the marble floor. "My name is Victoria Sterling. I am the chief legal counsel for the Van Der Bilt estate. And more importantly, I am Jacob’s ex-fiancée."
Chloe’s breath hitched.
"I don't know what kind of cheap, white-trash trap you think you've sprung on Jacob," Victoria hissed, leaning in close, the scent of her expensive, suffocating perfume filling the air. "But you need to listen to me very carefully. Jacob didn't marry you out of love, or pity, or even to help your pathetic, dying grandmother."
"What are you talking about?" Chloe demanded, her heart hammering.
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Victoria laughed, a chilling, triumphant sound. "Three years ago, Jacob's grandfather left a hidden clause in the family trust. In order for Jacob to claim his rightful position as sole CEO of the Van Der Bilt empire—worth six billion dollars—he had to marry a woman of lower financial standing before his thirty-fifth birthday. If he didn't, the entire fortune would default to his corrupt uncle, Marcus."
Victoria smiled, a terrifyingly sharp expression. "Jacob’s thirty-fifth birthday is tomorrow, Chloe. He didn't marry you to save your dignity. He married you to save his empire. You aren't his savior, sweetie. You're just his legal loophole."
