The Billionaire's Wedding Betrayal The Real Heiress Strikes Back

The night before my wedding, a trending post from a local forum popped up on my feed.

Tomorrow's my wedding. I swapped my fiance's vitamins with sleeping pills. Her foster sister will take her place at the altar. How do I stop feeling guilty?

The comments were tearing him apart, but the poster didn't care.

"The one I love has always been her foster sister. If it weren't for the fact that she's the real Pruitt heiress and marrying her is the only way to secure the investment, who'd want to marry that shrew?"

"She's head over heels for me anyway. Once it's a done deal, all I have to do is sweet-talk her a little, and she'll hand over every last cent."

Someone asked what he'd do if his fiance refused to let it go.

His reply was casual, almost bored.

"Then I'll let my girl take the hit for now. Marry the shrew, get the money. Once I'm back on top, I'll engineer their family's bankruptcy and toss the shrew into the gutter as an apology to my girl."

The comments exploded with outrage, calling him an ungrateful snake.

Then a familiar profile picture appeared in the likes.

"She stole everything that was supposed to be mine. Once I pull off the switch, not only will her fianc be mine, her billion-dollar dowry will be too!"

Her profile picture matched hisa pair of matching cartoon dolls, the exact same ones the fake heiress kept displayed in her room.

I picked up the vitamins from my nightstand and swallowed them without hesitation.

What they didn't know was that they'd counted their chickens far too early.

The next morning, the sun was already high in the sky by the time I woke. I pressed a hand to my forehead and stumbled out of my room.

I nearly walked straight into my mother.

Her eyes were still rimmed with tears. She froze for two full seconds when she saw me, then gasped. "Amber Pruitt! What are you doing here?"

My father rushed over at the sound of her voice. His gaze bounced between me and the wedding procession disappearing down the road below. "If you're here, then who just got into the Whitfield motorcade?"

I blinked, the picture of confusion. "How is that possible?"

"Catherine Pruitt gave me new vitamins yesterday. After I took them, I got so drowsy I slept straight through till now."

The festive atmosphere in the villa evaporated in an instant. Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.

My mother was the first to react. Her expression turned to ice as she seized Eudora Lawrence by the armthe woman had been quietly inching toward the door.

"I kept wondering why a nanny was sobbing harder than the bride's own mother at the send-off. Now it makes sense. The one you sent away was the counterfeit daughter you gave birth to!"

Eudora flinched and tried to pull back. Her eyes darted around the room, and when she spoke, the words came out in stammering fragments.

"Ma'am, what are you talking about?"

"The young miss overslept on her own. How is that my fault?"

My father turned to the household staff, his voice sharp as a blade. "What are you standing around for? Go drag that wretched girl Catherine back here. Now!"

The words had barely left his mouth when the butler came rushing in, pale-faced.

"Sirsir, the Whitfield estate just sent word. The ceremony is already done."

My mother let out a cold laugh. "So they exchanged vows. So what? A sparrow doesn't become a phoenix just because you put it in a cage. A fake is still a fake."

She turned on her heel and led the entire entourage straight toward the Whitfield estate.

I lowered my gaze and followed obediently behind my parents.

Inside, though, I was smiling.

The ceremony was the least of it.

When our two families had gotten engaged, Desmond Whitfield had insisted on a traditional wedding. A family with a hundred years of heritage, he'd said. Ancestral customs that had to be honored.

Now it all made sense. He'd been planning this from the start. The bride would be veiled the entire time, making it effortless for Catherine to slip in unnoticed.

And given the timing, the deed was almost certainly done by now. Far more than just vows had been exchanged.

Beside me, Eudora could barely contain the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

That only confirmed what I already knew. What was done was done.

When I was still an infant, Eudora had deliberately swapped me with Catherine.

It wasn't until we were ten years old, when Catherine took a bad fall and a blood test revealed the truth, that the switch was finally exposed. She was no Pruitt at all.

My parents had spent a fortune tracking me down and bringing me home.

After all, Catherine and her birth mother had lived under our roof for ten years. My parents were kind-hearted people, and they'd let them stay.

No one expected that kindness would breed such treachery.

Catherine had always believed it was my fault she'd lost her status as the Pruitt family's eldest daughter. That resentment had driven her to this underhanded scheme.

Even after I'd caught them, they'd banked on the fact that the Pruitts were one of the most prominent families in Kingsharbor. They were certain I'd swallow my humiliation to protect the family's reputation.

While I turned all of this over in my mind, our group had already arrived at the door of the bridal suitethe one Desmond had sworn up and down he'd decorated just for me.

The wedding guests trailed behind us, craning their necks for a better look.

The door was kicked open. Inside, Desmond scrambled off the bed in a state of undress, grabbing the suit jacket he'd tossed aside and throwing it over the woman beneath him.

His face darkened like a storm cloud. "What the hell are you doing? There's a limit to wedding-night pranks!"

My mother let out a cold laugh, strode forward, and ripped the jacket away from Catherine's half-hidden face.

"Wedding night? Open your eyes and take a good lookwhich one of us is the bride?!"

Desmond's hand trembled as he pointed at me, putting on a show of shock. "Catherine? What are you doing here?"

The moment the crowd got a clear look at Catherine's face, the room erupted.

"Isn't that the Pruitt family's fake heiress? What is she doing in the Whitfield heir's bed?"

My father's voice cut through the noise, dripping with contempt. "Apologies for the spectacle, everyone. The woman in that bed is the daughter of our former housekeeper. We raised her in our home for over twenty years, and this is how she repays usstealing her sister's wedding out of sheer vanity and making a fool of herself for all to see."

Desmond yanked the comforter up to cover Catherine's exposed body, his brow furrowed tight.

"Amber! How long are you going to keep this up?!"

"You overslept and missed the ceremony. Catherine stepped in to save your family's face."

"I had too much to drink and didn't realize it wasn't you. But what's done is done. The wedding night has already happened. No matter what, I have to take responsibility for Catherine now."

"You're both Pruitt daughters anyway. It doesn't matter which one I marrythe partnership between our families won't be affected."

"I know you can't live without me. That's why you brought this whole crowd here, to force a switch."

"Don't worry. Even if I marry Catherine, I can guarantee that the Whitfield heir's position will always belong to our children. Yours and mine."

"There. Satisfied?"

My father's jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheek twitched. "Amber is the Pruitts' only daughter. You sleep with another woman on your wedding day, and now you have the audacity to humiliate her like this?!"

My eyes stung. Tears pooled along my lower lashes, threatening to spill.

My mother pulled me into her arms, her hand trembling against my back. My father stepped in front of us both, shielding us, and turned to me. "Amber, don't you worry. Your father will make this right."

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Every pair of eyes fixed on the couple in the bed was filled with undisguised disdain.

"Did I hear that correctly? The Pruitts are one of the most respected families in Kingsharbor, and the Whitfield heir wants their legitimate daughter to be his mistress?"

"The real Pruitt heiress is tall and striking. The fake one is small and slight. How drunk would someone have to be to mix up his own bride?"

The mockery washed over Desmond, and his frown deepened with displeasure. The look he gave me was the kind reserved for a hysterical woman throwing a tantrum over nothing.

"Amber, this is a minor issue. I've already promised our children the inheritance. If you want to move into the Whitfield estate later, I won't stop you."

"And yet you keep pushing it, dragging all these people here to watch the spectacle. You're being completely unreasonable!"

The sheer self-righteousness on his face was so absurd it startled a laugh out of me.

He'd trampled over me to stage a grand wedding with that fraud, and now he expected me to play the willing mistress. He wanted my future children born in the shadows, illegitimate from their very first breath.

The nerve of that man!

The Whitfield family had been illustrious once, generations ago. By now, the name was nothing but gilded rot, a hollow shell dressed up in old glory. If it hadn't been for the childhood betrothal tying them to the Pruitts, if not for the Pruitt family's financial lifeline, the Whitfield name would have vanished from Kingsharbor's elite circles long ago.

And yet Desmond still had the audacity to want it all. Both women. Both fortunes.

What a joke.

My father laughed, the kind of laugh that came from pure, white-hot fury. "The Whitfields have enjoyed a few good years and already forgotten who pulled them out of the gutter?"

Margaret Whitfield hurried forward through the crowd, her expression tight with forced composure.

"Now, now, let's not say things we don't mean," she said, her tone practiced and diplomatic. "There's so much to manage with a wedding. Desmond has been running himself ragged for weeks. He simply lost his head for a moment."

She spread her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "It's all a misunderstanding. We'll sort it out."

Our family had always been cautious when it came to marriage. A full month before the wedding, my parents had hired a private investigator to look into Desmond.

The night before the ceremony, the investigator delivered a stack of photographs. Desmond and Catherine. Together. Intimately.

I had been shocked. Furious. But more than anything, I couldn't believe it.

Then I stumbled across that viral post online.

The fog lifted. Desmond wasn't just cheating. He was planning to ride the Pruitt fortune to the top, and once he'd squeezed every last drop of value from us, he'd engineer our family's ruin.

I would never let that happen.

My mother let out a sharp, derisive laugh. "Mrs. Whitfield, do you take us for fools?"

"Amber has lived under the same roof as your son since she was ten years old. They've known each other for over a decade. You're telling me he was too tired to recognize his own bride?"

Catherine scrambled to throw on a robe and dropped to her knees in front of everyone, tears streaming down her face like rain on white petals.

"Mom, this is all my fault," she sobbed. "Amber overslept, and I was terrified our family would be humiliated, so I put on the wedding dress myself. I was only trying to help."

She turned to look at me, her voice cracking with every word.

"Amber, please. I was wrong. But it's done now. I've already married Desmond. If you keep making a scene, you'll only drag the Pruitt name through the mud. Even if you don't care about me, don't you care about the family that raised you?"

Her eyes were rimmed red, her expression the picture of wounded innocence, as if she were the one who'd been wronged. As if the filthy affair with her sister's fiance had nothing to do with her.

And somehow, I was the one threatening the family's reputation by demanding justice.

That was when the private investigator I'd already contacted arrived. He walked straight to my father and handed him a stack of photographs.

"Mr. Pruitt, I'm afraid this situation is more complicated than it appears."

My father opened the envelope. Inside were the same explicit photos I'd already seen.

Every single image showed them in some degrading position, shameless and brazen, without a shred of decency between them.

My father's face turned a deep, mottled red. He slammed the photographs down onto the bed.

"What does the Whitfield family have to say for itself now?"

"Mrs. Whitfield, if your son wanted the Pruitt family's adopted daughter, he could have said so outright. There was no need to humiliate my daughter on her wedding day!"

"The partnership is over. The Pruitts are pulling every cent out of Whitfield Corp."

The moment those words left his mouth, the color drained from Margaret's face.

Without Pruitt capital, Whitfield Corp's finances would collapse entirely. Nothing would be left but a mountain of debt.

Margaret whipped around and slapped Desmond hard across the face. "Look at what you've done!"

Then she jabbed a finger at Catherine. "Someone get this tramp out of my sight! Throw her out!"

Desmond pressed a hand to his stinging cheek. His gaze cut toward me, vicious and seething, as though he wanted to tear me apart.

In his eyes, I wasn't the victim. I was the villain who'd ruined his wedding and turned his mother against him.

He pulled Catherine behind his back and squared his jaw, staring his mother down with open defiance.

"Mom! Catherine and I grew up together. We've been in love for years. If Amber hadn't clung to me and insisted on this marriage, we would've been together a long time ago."

He shot me a sidelong glance, dripping with contempt.

"Amber is arrogant and selfish. She's not fit to stand beside the CEO of Whitfield Corp as his wife. I've already promised that her child will have the status of an heir. What more does she want? And she still has the nerve to bring all these people here to cause a scene, humiliating both our families?"

Looking at his shameless face, my stomach churned with disgust and regret.

How had I ever been so devoted to a man like this?

I stared coldly at the despicable pair in front of me and ripped away the last shred of cover they were hiding behind.

"So let me get this straight. The two of you conspired to swap out my vitamin pills with sedatives, causing me to oversleep and miss the ceremony, and somehow that was a favor to both families."

"And I, who simply came with my parents to put an end to this farce, am the one dragging our families' names through the mud?"

I leaned forward, locking eyes with both of them, and spoke loud enough for every single person in the room to hear. "If you two were truly in love, why didn't you just say so from the start?"

"Was it because you wanted to trample both families' reputations underfoot? Or because what you were really after wasn't just a wedding, but the entire Pruitt fortune?"

The color drained from both their faces in an instant.

Desmond's eyes darted away. He stammered, "You... what are you talking about?"

Catherine's tears fell faster, her voice trembling. "Just because you can't have the man you want, you'd lash out and slander me? I genuinely love Desmond!"

I tapped my phone once. Instantly, the link to last night's viral post was sent to every guest's phone.

People opened the link, and there was nothing left to misunderstand.

"A cheating scumbag and his scheming mistress, clawing their way up with dirty tricks, then planning to toss aside the person who got them there. Absolutely disgusting!"

"They pulled something this vile and still had the gall to brag about it online. If that were my child, I'd have strangled them with a rope before they could drag the whole family down."

Some turned their fire directly on Desmond.

"The Whitfield heir really has no shame. If he fancied the Pruitts' adopted daughter, he should've just married her."

"This whole scheme was obviously about the Pruitt fortune. Steal their wealth and then force the real Pruitt heiress into being some dirty little secret on the side? Does he think the Pruitt family and every prominent family in Kingsharbor are fools?"

Margaret was shaking with fury. Her palm connected with Desmond's face in a vicious slap.

The blow snapped his head to the side, but even then, his first instinct was to shield Catherine.

Margaret saw this and nearly doubled over, clutching her chest, rage and heartbreak warring on her face.

"You ungrateful wretch! How long has this been going on? And you still refuse to repent!"

"Get on your knees in front of your future in-laws and beg for forgiveness this instant! Throw that shameless woman out and complete your marriage to Amber, properly!"

With that, she turned toward me, plastering on a warm smile, and reached for my hand.

I stepped back without a flicker of expression, neatly avoiding her grasp.

Margaret's smile froze. A beat later, she forced it back into place, even wider than before.

"Amber, this is all the Whitfield family's fault. I failed to discipline my own son."

"As his mother, I'm apologizing to you on Desmond's behalf. Whatever you want, the Whitfield family will agree to it."

"I promise you, nothing like this will ever happen again."

That was when Desmond straightened his spine, jaw set with stubborn defiance.

"Mom! The woman I love is Catherine. In this lifetime, the only Mrs. Whitfield will be her!"

"We're not even married yet and Amber is already this overbearing, this disrespectful to the Whitfield name."

"If you force me to marry a woman like that, it'll be the death of me!"

"If it weren't for the Pruitt family's reputation, I wouldn't touch this shrew with a ten-foot pole. The fact that I'm willing to give her a child is already the greatest mercy she could hope for."

"If she doesn't know what's good for her, she can be the laughingstock of every elite family in Kingsharbor! A woman whose engagement has been called off is worth less than a hostess at a bathhouse. Who would ever want her?"

I watched this man coldlythe man I'd chosen when I was ten years old.

Fourteen years together. I had given him nearly everything I had to give.

Two years ago, old Mr. Whitfield passed away, and the unremarkable Desmond took over the Whitfields' business empire.

In just three months, he'd managed to offend more than half their investors.

Not only did he botch the conglomerate's flagship project, he went against the entire board of directors and poured money into over a dozen ventures that were guaranteed to fail.

In six short months, the Whitfield familya dynasty built over nearly a centurysaw its cash flow collapse under billions of dollars in debt.

The family liquidated everything they owned. It still wasn't enough.

With a hundred years of legacy on the verge of total ruin, I was the one who begged my father to save the Whitfields from bankruptcy.

Back then, Desmond had knelt before my father, sobbing, swearing he would never betray me in this lifetime. Between him and me, he said, nothing but death would ever part us.

It was the Pruitt family's vast network of resources across every industry that allowed Desmond to rebuild the Whitfield empire in just two years.

And now, before the Whitfields had even found solid footing among Kingsharbor's elite, he couldn't wait to force me into being the other woman.

The guests looked at him as though they were watching a fool perform.

Everyone knew that while the Whitfield corporation still bore the Whitfield name on paper, aside from Desmond's figurehead title as CEO, the entire operation had long since become Pruitt property through and through.

A man who depended on his fiance just to maintain his lavish lifestylewhere did he find the nerve to provoke the very person bankrolling his existence?

But Desmond was completely oblivious. He was convinced I still needed him the way I once had.

When I said nothing, his arm tightened around Catherine's waist.

"Amber, if you get on your knees right now and kowtow to Catherine three times, I might be generous enough to forgive your little tantrum."

"Otherwise, you won't even get the chance to bear my children, let alone set foot in the Whitfield estate!"

I looked at that arrogant, repulsive face of his, and I couldn't help but laugh.

This kind of idiot? Whoever wanted him could have him.

A blessed woman doesn't walk through a cursed man's door.

My father let out a cold scoff. "My daughterthe pride of the Pruitt familyand you think you're worthy of passing judgment on her?"

"This wedding is off."

"When Amber decides she wants to marry someday, every eligible young man in Kingsharbor will be lining up at our door. And if she never wants to marry at all, I'll gladly take care of her for the rest of her life."

With that, he clapped three times and gave a sharp order to the staff. "Bring every last piece of my daughter's dowry back. All of it."

"Two hundred cases of cash. Equity stakes in twenty companies. Ten Rolls-Royces. Thirty properties across eight countries. And the thirty billion dollars wired into the Whitfield accounts. Recover every cent. Not a single dollar stays behind."

The staggering scale of my dowry drew a collective gasp from the crowd.

"The Whitfields are finished. Without the Pruitts, they're not even worth the name on the building!"

"Throwing away a century-old family legacy for some housekeeper's daughter. Absolutely moronic!"

Catherine let out a shrill scream. "No! That dowry belongs to me!"

My mother's hand cracked across her face. "The Pruitt family has one daughter, and her name is Amber. You think you're entitled to even dream about her dowry? You want a dowry? Go ask your housekeeper mother for one."

Pruitt security filed in, ready to haul everything away.

"Hold on!"

Desmond stood up and planted himself in front of them.

"Father-in-law, have you forgotten the agreement both families signed at the engagement?"

"The only way you're entitled to reclaim the dowry is if I wronged a Pruitt daughter. Otherwise, every last cent belongs to the Whitfield family, and on top of that, the Pruitts will have to surrender all their shares in Pruitt Corp."

Desmond held up the contract, his voice ringing through the room. "Catherine is registered under the Pruitt household. That makes her a Pruitt daughter, plain and simple. Everyone here is a witness. The Whitfields honored our commitment. It's the Pruitts who broke their word."

His argument was airtight. My father clutched his chest, gasping for air as fury overwhelmed him.

My mother's eyes were bloodshot. She wanted to fight for me, to demand justice, but she couldn't find a single word to counter him.

Catherine draped herself against Desmond's chest, swaying her hips, her smile dripping with triumph.

"Don't take it personally, sis. So what if Mom and Dad don't claim me? What matters is who sits in the seat of the Whitfield matriarch."

Her gaze slid down to me. "Tell you what. If you're willing to get on your knees right now, bark like a dog, and crawl between my legs, and if you manage to amuse me, I might honor the years the Pruitts spent raising me. I'll put in a good word and get dear old Dad a job as a security guard."

She inspected her nails. "As for your dowry? Consider it a tribute to the rightful Mrs. Whitfield. Every penny goes into my account."

The Whitfield servants shoved me aside, hard. The crates of dowry were already being hauled through the doors.

My mother rushed forward to stop them, but the servants, emboldened by their masters, pushed her to the ground.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Mom. This is Whitfield family business. You insisted on sticking your nose in. These crates don't have eyes, you know. If you end up hurt or crippled, you'll only have yourself to blame."

I helped my mother to her feet and turned a cold stare on the two of them.

Desmond curled his lip, wearing the expression of a man tossing scraps to a beggar. "Without that dowry, you can't even buy yourself a husband. But I'll tell you what. For old times' sake, since you used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy, come work as a maid for the Whitfields for five years. I might consider giving you a son to secure your future."

I didn't move.

Desmond seized my shoulder, wrenching me forward, then drove his foot into the back of my knee. My legs buckled, and I hit the floor.

He was about to force my head down into a bow when the sealed double doors of the suite burst open with a deafening crash.

"Stop! Law enforcement!"