My CEO Husband Left Me in My Old Dress for His Mistress. Then I Called My Billionaire Dad.

The silence in the grand ballroom was so profound that you could hear the champagne bubbles popping inside the crystal flutes.

Phoebe walked with effortless grace, her head held high, her hand resting gently on Raymond Harrell’s arm. She didn't look like the quiet, timid girl who had spent three years cooking dinners in a quiet mansion in Shaker Heights. She looked like a queen stepping onto her rightful throne.

Spencer stepped forward, his legs trembling violently inside his trousers. "P-Phoebe...? What... what is the meaning of this? Where did you get that dress? Where did you get those jewels?!"

Phoebe stopped three feet away from him. Her eyes swept over Spencer, then moved slowly to Paisley Daley, who was cowering behind him, her face drained of all color.

"I didn't steal them, Spencer," Phoebe said, her voice smooth, crystalline, and echoing across the silent room. "They were waiting for me in my father's vault."

"Your... your father?" Spencer stammered, his mind short-circuiting as his gaze flicked rapidly between Phoebe and the legendary billionaire standing beside her.

Raymond Harrell stepped forward, his heavy walking cane striking the marble floor with a sound like a gavel dropping in a courtroom.

"Three years ago," Raymond spoke, his deep voice carrying a terrifying authority that made the surrounding CEOs shudder, "my daughter asked me for permission to live a quiet life. She wanted to find a man who would love her for who she was, not for the Harrell family fortune. She chose you, Spencer Conway."

Spencer felt the floor beneath his feet tilt. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. "R-Raymond Harrell... is your father?!"

"And for three years," Raymond continued, his eyes narrowing into deadly slits, "I watched my only child make herself smaller to fit into your pathetic little world. I watched her wear old clothes while you spent millions on corporate vanity. And tonight, you left her at home, told her she would embarrass you, and brought this... mistress to my city's premier event."

Paisley let out a squeak of pure terror, shrinking back as the entire room turned to stare at her with disgust and contempt.

"Phoebe... darling... please!" Spencer stammered, dropping to his knees right there on the shattered glass of his fallen drink, reaching out frantically toward the hem of her velvet gown. "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know! It was a mistake! Paisley forced herself on me! She manipulated me!"

Paisley’s head snapped toward Spencer in shock. "What?! You lying coward! You told me she was a useless housewife!"

Phoebe looked down at the man kneeling at her feet. There was no anger in her pale gray eyes. There was only absolute, icy indifference—and that was far more terrifying than rage.

"Get up, Spencer," Phoebe said softly. "You look embarrassing."

"Phoebe, please!" Spencer wept, tears ruining his immaculate makeup. "We're married! We're husband and wife! Think about our three years together!"

"Our three years ended the moment you told me I was a stain on your floor," Phoebe replied.

Raymond Harrell turned to his chief legal officer, who stepped forward holding a thick leather folder.

"Mr. Conway," the attorney announced loudly, ensuring every investor in the room heard every word. "As of 9:00 PM tonight, the Harrell Conglomerate has officially revoked Apex Group’s lease on all commercial properties nationwide. Furthermore, we have recalled our twenty-million-dollar emergency credit line, effective immediately."