THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET HEIRESS: 20 Lashes From My Husband, 5 Minutes To His Ruin

"You stupid, greedy bitch!" Adrian roared, completely losing his mind in front of Manhattan's entire elite society.

He lunged at Vanessa, his fingers curling into claws, but the Plaza Hotel security tackled him to the floor before he could lay a finger on her. Vanessa screamed, scrambling backward on her hands and knees, her designer dress tearing against the parquet floor as socialites backed away from her in total revulsion.

"Get them out of here," I said quietly to the head of security. "They are trespassing on Vance private property. This entire hotel was acquired by my family yesterday afternoon."

The security guards dragged Adrian and Vanessa out through the side service entrance like bags of garbage, their screams echoing down the service corridor until the heavy steel doors slammed shut.

Later that night, a torrential autumn rainstorm broke over Manhattan.

The cold rain turned the streets into slick mirrors of neon and shadow. Outside the towering glass monolith of the Vance World Headquarters on Fifth Avenue, a solitary figure stood drenched to the bone.

Adrian Vale had broken his house arrest perimeter.

His ankle monitor was shrieking an incessant, high-pitched electronic alarm, broadcasting his violation to the NYPD. His shoes were gone, lost somewhere during his desperate trek through the rain. His soaked white dress shirt was plastered against his emaciated chest.

He fell to his knees directly before the revolving glass doors of the tower, pressing his forehead against the icy concrete.

"Elena!" he screamed into the storm, rain washing tears and snot down his face. "Elena, please! Just let me talk to you! Five minutes! Just give me five minutes!"

The automatic doors slid open.

I stepped out onto the sheltered portico, flanked by Marcus Thorne and two umbrella-bearing security guards. I was wrapped in a floor-length black cashmere coat, warm, untouched, and utterly detached from the pathetic spectacle before me.

Adrian looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his teeth chattering violently from hypothermia.

"Ellie..." he sobbed, crawling toward the steps, his hands scraping against the rough granite. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I didn't know who she was. I didn't know anything! You were the only good thing in my life! You gave me everything! I’ll sign whatever you want. I’ll be your servant! Just call off the prosecutors! Don't send me to federal prison! I won't survive it!"

I looked down at the man who, only two weeks ago, had stood over me with a riding crop, sneering about my barrenness, watching his mistress smile as my blood stained the floor.

"Do you remember what you asked me before you struck me the first time, Adrian?" I asked, my voice cutting through the roar of the rain.

Adrian blinked through the water streaming down his face, trembling.

"You asked me if I married you for your money," I said. "And the answer was no. I married you because I thought you had a soul. But you didn't have a fortune, Adrian. And you certainly never had a soul."

I turned my back on him.

"Marcus," I said.

"Yes, Miss Vance?"