Trading My Ex For His Billionaire Uncle

I spent three years working as my fiancé Cam's shadow analyst, writing his reports and securing his corporate bonuses.

But at a company banquet, I opened a lounge door and found him pinning my stepsister Kiley against a sofa.

"I'll cancel the engagement," Cam murmured against her neck. "She's just a boring machine."

Instead of crying, I dug into his accounts and found he had embezzled five million dollars to buy Kiley a luxury penthouse.

When I presented the irrefutable photos and bank statements to my adoptive family, my mother slapped me across the face.

She accused me of fabricating the evidence out of jealousy, fiercely protecting her biological daughter while throwing me out into the cold.

Cam even tracked me down on the street, raising his fist to beat me just for making his mistress cry.

Three years of my devotion were treated like absolute garbage, discarded for a fragile hypocrite.

They all thought I was an orphaned nobody who would swallow the humiliation and walk away empty-handed.

They didn't know that right after catching them, I had crashed into the chest of the most dangerous man in the room.

Hayes Cooper, the King of Wall Street, and Cam's ruthless uncle.

Sitting in the back of an Uber, I emailed Hayes a hidden file containing all of Cam's federal crimes.

I didn't just want the penthouse back. I wanted my ex in prison, and his Director's chair for myself.