My Marriage License, His Public Fall

elyn

that momentarily soothed the raw edges of my soul. He found me shivering in the diner booth, wrapped me in his expensive cashmere coat, and drove me to a private hospital. He handled everything

ory of Chace's cold eyes, his dismissal, his cruel words – "My charity" – replayed in an endless loop. I

ming an interior designer, to support his ambition. I had believed his promises, endured his family's subtle slights, and the public's outright scorn, all for a futu

t listened, his hazel eyes full of a quiet understanding. But I knew what I had to do. I had to reclaim my name. I had to prov

but determined. "From Chace's penthouse. Our marriage license

dangerous. He has security crawling all over t

g me. "It's the only way I can prove who I am. Th

in his eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice

ce had always promise

anged for a "distraction" at the Bentley penthouse, a minor alarm to pull security away from the

Kristian had provided, I slipped past the diverted security, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. The penthouse was even more opulent than I rem

e where I had found the prenup. My hands trembled as I punched in the code, a jumble of numbers that used to hold so much meanin

a thick envelope, clearly marked "Marriage Certificate." Relief, sweet and intoxica

The distraction hadn't worked. Or it had worked too well. Panic seized me. I fumbled with the certificate, my h

ain. But it was too late. Two burly security guards, men I' d never seen before, burst into the study.

em barked, his voic

y hands raised in a gestur

exploded in my head as it hit the sharp corner. My vision swam, lights dancing before my eyes. A fist connected with my stomach, stealing m

oice thick with rage. "You think you can jus

ing blood. "No... I'm... his wife..." The words

the haze of my agony. "His wife? You're the crazy st

es. I felt the precious certificate slip from my grasp, falling

rious, cut through the haze. "W

their bodies stiffening. I heard a fa

pale, his eyes wide with horror as he took in the scene. My battered, bloody form on the floor, the two h

pered, his voice la

ly replaced by something else: exasperation. "You shouldn't have broken in, Gracelyn," he sai

efused to acknowledge my pain, my existence. The last fragile thread of hope snapped. I close