Switched to My Secret Billionaire

On the third anniversary of their engagement, Serena Brooks boarded a late-night flight to the city where her fiancé, Andrew Smith, was on a business trip.

She arrived at his hotel with a bouquet of roses and a carefully wrapped gift, her lips curved in a smile she could not suppress.

They had been together for years. Andrew had often hinted at wanting to make love, but Serena, shy and reserved, had always held back. 

Tonight was supposed to be different. After weeks of building up her courage, she had decided to give herself to him — her first time — as a gift. 

His sudden trip had thrown her plans into disarray, but she had chosen to surprise him instead.

Sliding the keycard into the door, she stepped inside — and froze.

On the oversized bed, two bodies were tangled together in a fevered embrace.

Andrew's mouth was pressed to the curve of a woman's neck, his voice thick with desire. "Baby, you're incredible. One more round tonight, and I'll make you beg."

The woman's legs were hooked around his waist. "Tell me, do you prefer being with me… or with Serena?"

Andrew gave a short, dismissive laugh. "Serena? That foolish woman can't hold a candle to you. She acts like some saint, never letting me touch her. If it weren't for the twenty percent of Brooks Group shares she inherited from her mother, and the years she's spent fawning over me, I wouldn't even glance her way."

He added, "She grew up in the sticks. Say a few sweet words, and she'll believe anything."

Serena's entire body trembled. The woman beneath Andrew was someone she knew — Rosa Brooks, her half-sister.

Andrew was sleeping with Rosa. On their engagement anniversary.

The cake in her hands dropped to the floor with a dull thud, startling the lovers on the bed.

Andrew's eyes widened for a heartbeat before he yanked the blanket up. "Serena… what are you doing here?"

"If I hadn't come, I wouldn't have seen the filth you're wallowing in."

Her fists clenched, her eyes burning. "You agreed to marry me only because of my shares, didn't you?"

Andrew's gaze flickered, but then he straightened, confidence returning. "I don't love you. But if you can accept what's between me and Rosa, you can still be my wife."

His tone dripped with condescension. "Your father wants Rosa to marry my uncle, so she and I can't wed. Keep quiet, and I'll let you have a child with me someday. Beyond that, don't expect anything."

Rosa nestled into Andrew's arms, her eyes gleaming with challenge. "Serena, Andrew and I grew up together. We've always been in love. You're the one who tore us apart, forcing me to marry Zachary Smith, that dying old man."

She continued, "I know you want to be Andrew's wife. I'll let you have the title. But his heart will always belong to me."

Serena's stomach turned. How had she ever thought Andrew was a worthy match? How had she fallen for his polished lies?

"I will never marry you, you disgusting bastard."

She stepped forward and slapped both Andrew and Rosa hard across the face. Her voice shook with fury. "When I get home, I'm ending this engagement. You make me sick."

Andrew reeled, clutching his cheek. "Serena! How dare you—"

She hurled the roses at him and stormed out.

Andrew stayed behind, murmuring soft words to Rosa, making no move to follow.

Outside, rain poured from the sky in sheets. Serena reached for her phone to call a cab, only to realize she had left her bag upstairs in her rush to leave. 

The thought of going back made her stomach knot. Her carefully chosen dress and flawless makeup now felt like a cruel joke.

Where could she go? No phone, no money. Was she going to sleep on the street tonight?

And what about tomorrow? 

Her mother's will stated she had to fulfill her marriage contract with the Smith family to claim her inheritance. 

If she broke the engagement, the shares would fall into the hands of her stepmother and her father — the man who had sent her to live with her grandmother in the countryside after her mother's funeral, then ignored her for years.

If not for her inheritance rights, he would probably have wished her dead.

Exposing Andrew would free her from marriage, but it would also strip her of her claim. 

Standing in the hotel doorway, shivering in the wind, she realized that breaking the engagement now would be exactly what Andrew and Rosa wanted. They would move to siphon company assets before she could secure her place on the board, leaving her with nothing.

What should she do?

A deep voice broke through her thoughts.

"Ma'am, is this your bag?"

She turned to see a man in a hotel staff uniform holding a black umbrella. His features were sharp, his eyes calm yet magnetic, the slight lift at the corners giving him a dangerous allure. His hand on the umbrella handle was long-fingered, elegant — that stopped her for a heartbeat.

Seeing her hesitate, he stepped closer, his voice low and warm. "The rain's heavy. If you don't mind, you can wait in the lounge until it eases."

"Thank you."

Serena took the bag, her brows knitting. This hotel belonged to the Smith family. Was Andrew behind this?

She glanced at the man with suspicion, unwilling to get involved. Pulling out her phone, she found it dead. The rain made hailing a passing cab nearly impossible.

She decided to stay at the hotel for the night, but the front desk told her there were no rooms available.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Determined, she started toward the subway station, rain soaking through her clothes. Behind her, the man frowned, but before he could speak, her heel slipped.

Pain shot through her ankle. She nearly fell, but a hand caught her waist, steadying her. "Are you alright?"

The warmth of his palm startled her. She stepped back quickly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

She limped forward, the cold rain making her shiver. Each step sent pain through her swollen ankle.

His voice came again, calm but insistent. "The rain won't stop. You should wait in the lounge."