SECRETLY The Billionaire Tycoon

The grocery bags cut into Adrian Kane's palms as he climbed the steps to the Thornton mansion.

Inside one bag, imported Italian truffles. In another, the aged wine his wife loved but never thanked him for. Five years of this. Five years of buying her favorite things with money that could've fed a family for months, all for a smile she never gave.

He reached for the door.

"Stop right there!"

Margaret Thornton stood in the doorway like a prison warden, her lips twisted in that familiar sneer. She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his worn jacket and scuffed shoes.

"Empty-handed again?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Typical. Coming to eat our food, sleep under our roof, without bringing a single thing to contribute."

Adrian lifted the bags. "I brought—"

"You brought nothing significant!" She stepped forward, blocking the entrance. "Well, you know the rules. Before you step into my house, you show proper respect."

His jaw tightened. The bags hung heavy in his hands.

Margaret's eyes gleamed. "Kneel."

Five years. He'd endured five years of this. The insults, the contempt, the casual cruelty. All because he believed that love could survive anything. That Isabella would eventually see past the mask he wore.

He set down the bags.

"Good boy." Margaret extended her foot, her designer heel smudged with garden dirt. "Clean it. Your shirt will do."

Adrian pulled off his jacket. Unbuttoned his shirt. The evening air hit his skin as he knelt on the cold stone steps. He wiped the dirt from her shoe, each stroke methodical and mechanical. Somewhere inside him, in a place he'd locked away five years ago, a voice screamed. But Adrian Kane, the man they saw, remained silent.

"Smile for the camera, loser!"

Kyle Thornton leaned out a window, phone aimed down at him. Isabella's younger brother—twenty-two, spoiled, cruel in the way only the wealthy and bored could be.

"This is gold! 'Our family dog performs tricks!' Hashtag PathenticHusband!" Kyle's laughter echoed across the lawn. "Dude, you're about to be famous!"

Margaret stepped over him like he was part of the stairs. "Hurry up. We have guests, and I won't have you embarrassing us by existing in their sight longer than necessary."

Adrian finished. Put his shirt back on. Picked up the bags. Walked inside.

The foyer gleamed with marble and crystal. He'd scrubbed these floors a hundred times. Polished these banisters until his hands bled. All while listening to Isabella's friends ask why she kept "the help" around.

Voices drifted from the sitting room.

"—engagement party has to be perfect." Margaret's tone was excited, almost girlish. "Brandon deserves nothing less."

Adrian stopped. Brandon?

"Mother, please. It's too soon." Isabella's voice. The voice that used to make his heart race. Now it just made him tired. "We only started seeing each other a few months ago."

"Nonsense! Brandon Sterling is perfect for you. Wealthy, connected, ambitious. Everything a real husband should be." A pause. "Not like that useless waste we've been supporting."

"You mean Adrian?" Isabella laughed. Actually laughed. "God, don't remind me. Five years of free labor. He should be thanking me for the charity."

Adrian's hand tightened on the bags.

"The divorce papers are ready," Margaret said. "We'll present them after the party. Let him think he still has a chance until then. We might need him to serve drinks."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

Ryker.

His second-in-command. The only person in the world who knew the truth about Adrian Kane—that he wasn't a nobody. That he was the exiled heir to the Apex Empire, the shadow conglomerate that moved billions in the dark, that owned half the city without anyone knowing. That this mansion, the Thornton company, Isabella's entire life—it all existed because he allowed it to.

The message would say the same thing it always did: Sir, please. End this. Come home.

Adrian deleted it without reading. Whispered to himself, "Just a little longer. She'll see me eventually."

He'd been saying that for five years.

The bags felt heavier now. He climbed the stairs to their bedroom—the room Isabella had relegated him to sleeping on the floor of for the past year. She said his presence in the bed disgusted her.

He'd bought flowers with his last fifty dollars. Roses. Her favorite.

Adrian pushed open the door.

Isabella was on the bed. Straddling Brandon Sterling. Her silk blouse open, his hands on her bare skin, their mouths locked together.

Time stopped.

Then Brandon noticed him. Pulled back. Zipped up his pants with casual ease, like Adrian had just walked in on him watching television.

"Oh, you're early." Isabella didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. She climbed off Brandon, adjusting her clothes. "Brandon, this is the servant I mentioned."

Servant. He was her husband.

Brandon grinned. "Buddy, be a pal and grab us some wine from downstairs, yeah? We worked up a thirst."

The flowers crumpled in Adrian's fist. Stems snapping. Petals falling like blood drops on the white carpet.

"Well?" Margaret appeared behind him, Kyle at her shoulder with his phone still recording. "What are you standing there for? Serve your betters!"

Kyle zoomed in. "This is going viral! The cuck catches them red-handed! Oh man, the views are gonna be insane!"

Adrian stood frozen. Five years of humiliation crystallized in this moment. Every insult. Every sneer. Every time they'd treated him like he was less than human.

And Isabella—beautiful, cruel Isabella—finally showed emotion. Anger.

At him.

"How dare you embarrass me by standing there!" She crossed the room in five steps and slapped him. Hard. The crack echoed like a gunshot. "You're disgusting. Looking at me with those pathetic, desperate eyes. You really thought you were my husband?"

His phone slipped from his pocket. Hit the floor. The screen lit up.

Contact name visible: APEX EMPIRE CEO - Damian Brown

Brandon picked it up. Looked at the screen. Then he started laughing. Deep, genuine laughter that brought tears to his eyes.

"Apex Empire CEO?" He showed the phone to Isabella and Margaret. "This loser has fake contacts now! What's next, the President's private number?" He tossed it back to Adrian. "Buddy, the delusions are getting sad. You need professional help."

Kyle filmed it all. "This is the best content ever! My followers are eating this up!"

Isabella grabbed Brandon's arm. "Let's go downstairs. I need a drink after dealing with this humiliation."

They walked past Adrian like he was furniture.

Margaret paused at the door. "Clean this mess up. The petals are staining the carpet. And don't even think about sleeping in this room tonight. The garage should suit something like you."

The door closed.

Adrian stood alone in the room that smelled like Isabella's perfume and another man's cologne. The crushed flowers at his feet. His phone screen still showing Ryker's name.

He picked it up.

Stared at it.

And for the first time in five years, something inside him shifted.

The lock he'd placed on that voice—the one that had been screaming—finally broke.

He typed one message: Prepare everything. I'm coming home.

The response came instantly: Finally, sir. The empire awaits its king.

Adrian looked at the crushed roses. At the bed where his wife had just been with another man. At the life he'd lived for five years, believing that love and patience would be enough.

He'd been wrong.

And they were about to learn exactly how wrong.