My Marriage License, His Public Fall

elyn

at hunched on the thin cot, the stale air heavy with the metallic scent of despair. My body ached from the rough handling, but my mind

giving the Bentley penthouse address out of habit. My limbs felt heavy, each movement a Herculean effort. I needed answers.

hidden life. Now, it felt like a mocking relic. I found Chace in his study, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his eyes

other beat before he finally looked at me. His expression was carefully n

devoid of surprise or concern. "I hea

orld thinks I'm a lunatic stalker. And you just watched!" My voice cracked, raw with

a soft click. "It's business, Gracelyn. You know this. My father is pushing harde

you're 'fiancés'? A façade where I'm dragged out in front of the press,

in a difficult position. I'm busy. This takeover is delicate. Celina is... necessary for now." He spoke of her as if she were a commodity, an

uised arm, the faint red marks on my cheek where the guard had shoved

hind a painting. It was a new addition. My heart hammered against my ribs.

ice barely above a whisper, point

e – annoyance? surprise? – crossing his face.

my voice rising. "Or yo

d hard. "Don't be ridiculous, Gracely

The safe stared back at me, a dark, metallic portal to a truth I wasn't sure I w

ling a stack of neatly organized papers. My gaze immediately fell upon a legal document, its embossed

ST FUND AGREEMENT - FUTURE CHILDRE

s was a life. A life he was building with her. A life he had lied to me about for five years. His "plan" to take p

"You... you bastard," I choked out, the words laced with unspeakable p

I thought I saw a flicker of something, guilt maybe, before it was replaced by hardened resolve

ther isn't the one who signed a prenup with another woman! Your father isn't

s digging into my palms. The pain was a dull counterpoint to the sharp, agonizin

words barely audible, but firm

ulous, Gracelyn," he scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're overwrought. You' re bruised. You' re not th

dismissal of my pain. "That's exactly what I mean! I want out. I can't do this

lly cultivated calm. "You think this is easy for me? My father would

y. Your way to keep me a secret, to keep me convenient, while you build your future with

You think anyone would believe that? Look at you, Gracelyn. A foster kid. A nobody. You have nothing. E

onto a few designer pieces he' d bought me, tangible reminders of a love I thought was real. A shimmering emerald dre

ng despair. "Charity?" I repeated, my voice rising with a dangerous trem

racelyn, stop! You're not making sense!" But I didn't listen. My hands fumb

the floor, a shimmering symbol of a broken dream. I tore off the delicate sapphire earrings, the matching necklace, the diamo

ow standing in the doorway, his eyes wi

but mostly from a fury I hadn't known I possessed. My eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, met his. "I'm giving

ed it from the hanger, threw it at his feet, then snatched a delicate silver locket from my neck, a locket he' d given me on our first anniversary, supposedly co

he penthouse, past the bewildered security guard, and into the freezing New York winter night. The cold was a sh

ble. My lungs burned, my feet were numb, but I felt a strange sense of liberation. The cold was a reminder that I was alive, and I was finally, truly