The Mind-Reading CEO Refuses To Divorce

Georgia Harrington gasped for air, her fingers clawing into the black silk sheets as a flood of foreign memories slammed into her skull. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She looked up, her wide eyes hitting a massive, chaotic abstract painting on the opposite wall. It was the signature multi-million-dollar piece owned by the Delacruz family-the ruthless Wall Street dynasty from the trashy billionaire novel she had been reading before she fell asleep. A cold breath caught in her throat.

Throwing off the covers, Georgia stumbled barefoot across the hardwood floor toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Staring back at her was the pale, delicate face of the billionaire's disposable contract wife, a woman destined to die penniless after her husband fell for her adopted sister. Georgia squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach twisting into a tight knot.

The heavy oak door swung open without a knock, banging against the stopper. Martha, the head housekeeper placed here by Georgia's mother-in-law to spy on her, stood in the doorway with her chin raised and her eyes full of open contempt.

"Madam, Mr. Delacruz is waiting downstairs. Stop dragging your feet."

Georgia bit back the curse rising on her tongue, dropped her shoulders, and smoothed her face into a meek, submissive mask.

"I'll be right down, Martha."

Martha let out a sharp snort and spun on her heel, her heels clicking loudly against the marble hallway floor.

Once alone, Georgia walked into the massive walk-in closet. Row after row of high-necked, shapeless dark suits hung on the racks-the uniform of a desperate woman trying to please a cold-blooded corporate tyrant. Georgia wrinkled her nose in disgust. To survive until the divorce payout, she had to play the part. Gritting her teeth, she yanked a baggy gray wool dress from the corner and pulled it over her head.

Stepping out into the second-floor hallway, she took a deep breath and clasped her hands neatly over her stomach. She walked down the spiral staircase at a measured pace, her gaze passing the crystal chandelier to land on the tall figure standing in the center of the living room.

Garrett Delacruz, the sole heir to the Delacruz investment empire and her husband of three years, stood with his back to her. Dressed in a bespoke black suit, he scrolled through a tablet, radiating a freezing pressure that made the huge room feel cramped.

Georgia stopped three paces behind him, holding her breath so she wouldn't make a sound.

Garrett didn't turn around, his long fingers swiping across the glass screen.

"You're three minutes late."

Georgia dropped her chin to her chest, forcing a tremor into her voice.

"I'm sorry, Garrett. I didn't sleep well last night."

He turned around slowly. His ice-blue eyes swept over her drab gray dress, a flash of irritation tightening his jaw. Before he could speak, his chief assistant, Gorge Oliver, walked briskly through the front foyer carrying a thick leather folder.

"Sir, the final merger agreements are ready for your signature."

Garrett took the fountain pen from Gorge and signed his name across the bottom of the pages with sharp strokes, treating Georgia like part of the furniture. Georgia stared at his Platinum Patek Philippe watch, her mind racing through numbers, calculating how many millions she could squeeze out of him in alimony.

Snapping the folder shut, Garrett handed it back to Gorge.

"Tell Legal we're meeting at three. And have them draft a supplemental clause to my prenuptial agreement."

At the word prenuptial, Georgia's heart skipped a beat, her fingers twisting the gray wool of her skirt. She forced watery panic into her eyes and looked up at him.

"You're changing the agreement? Did I do something wrong?"

Garrett looked down at her from his six-foot-three frame, his lip curling into a cold sneer.

"Drop the act, Georgia. Our three-year term is almost up."

Georgia shrank back, letting her shoulders tremble while her eyes turned red around the rims. Inside, she was biting the inside of her cheek so hard it hurt, desperate to stop herself from grinning from ear to ear.

Martha walked over carrying a silver tray and slammed a cup of black coffee onto the glass table, splashing dark liquid onto the saucer. Garrett picked up the cup and took a sip, his brows pulling together at the lukewarm temperature.

Georgia stepped forward immediately, reaching out for the porcelain cup.

"I'll have the kitchen brew a fresh pot."

Garrett jerked his shoulder back, dodging her fingertips as his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Don't touch me."

Georgia's hand froze mid-air, her fingertips trembling slightly before she pulled her arm back against her chest. Garrett set the cup down, adjusted his diamond cufflinks, and strode out the front door without looking back.

Watching the heavy doors close behind him, Georgia let the hurt expression drop from her face, her eyes turning flat and calculating. Outside, in the backseat of his idling Rolls-Royce, Garrett rubbed his throbbing temples, his mind already mapping out the fastest way to sever ties with his boring, spineless wife.