“You have exactly one hour to get off my property,” I said calmly, lowering my sunglasses as I watched my ex-husband go completely pale. His vicious mother dragged a cheap suitcase through the mud while his mistress frantically tried to rescue her stolen designer bags — and that was when they finally learned the maid they had humiliated was secretly a billionaire.
“You are a liability, Camila. Sign the damn papers.”
My husband, Grant Callaway, slammed the gold pen down onto the mahogany table. Beside him stood Jessica Vain, his beautiful business consultant and very obvious mistress, smirking behind her champagne flute.
My name is Camila. Three years ago, I married the heir to the enormous Callaway logistics empire, but instead of becoming a wife, I became an unpaid servant for Grant and his poisonous mother, Beatrice. I had no money, no influential family, and no voice. Tonight, they had decided they were finally finished with me. The company was preparing to go public, and my lack of rich pedigree had become, in their eyes, a serious public relations problem.