No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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Edmund - fortunate protector, wealthy guardian

Thea - God's gift

It was cold. My skin was freezing under my torn and dirty tunic. I could feel fine raindrops falling on me. It was more like a fog, making everything look gloomy and grey and making me shiver in my humid clothing. I suppose it was midday. I don't know. I haven't lifted my eyes for hours. The only thing that indicated it, was constantly growing chatting and shouting around me. People were coming to the marketplace to get some goods - vegetables, fruits, tools, and slaves. And I was one of them. A slave. I think that is the only purpose for me in my short life. Since I can remember, I have been working as a slave. I think it will be for seven years. Though, sometimes I am not even sure about it. I have never attended a school or learned anything useful, reading, counting. Just basic stuff, but not enough to function on my own. Right now I was sitting on a tiny stack of hay, waiting for somebody to buy me. I didn't want to go to another place. I just wanted to not exist. No one has ever taken care of me. I had to endure the hard work, everywhere I went. Different owners, different rich people houses. But the attitude everywhere was the same - cold and cruel. Like I was not a human. They beat me, gave me food, just enough for me to stay alive. I was living worse than a dog. I just wanted to die. There is nothing in my life, that keeps me here. I will not survive in another place. This time I will not last.

I could hear some people talking near me, discussing the prices for other ones, that were here with me. I hold my head low and made no eye contact with anyone. I didn't want to be chosen.

I felt someone's hand examining my black, greasy hair. I didn't bother to look up. I just wanted them to leave.

"We are buying this one!" I heard the voice of a young boy.

"Why! Look, she is tiny, just skin and bones. She will not last long. You don't need her. We can find someone better if you need." a low man's voice responded to him.

"Dad, I said I want her."

A boy sounded so confident. Like he held some power over everyone else. Even over his father, I assumed. His statement was clear, his voice stern and demanding. I felt his small hand touch my shoulder, as he shook me to get my attention, but I gave him none. I just didn't want to be chosen.

"Hey, look at me!" he ordered.

I didn't budge.

"See, she is totally disobedient. You are gonna regret if you take her." his old man said again.

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