The Transactional Marriage: Her Bitter Ascent

uneral, I knew our marriage was a transaction. But when he started canceling meetin

ector who criticized her. My investigation led to a "warning"-a hit-and-run that

for her, Kennedy pointed at me and wailed, "Make her kne

cold eyes

anded, his voice de

pte

my father' s funeral, I knew our marriage was a transact

from Gregory. He had been away on a business trip. A deal, he' d called it. A bill

" my mother had said, her voice strai

a strategic alliance, a merger of two powerfu

gory would send a generic text, always signed by his assistant. One year, he sent a diamond neck

on, but a quiet terror. My car had spun out on an icy patch,

first thought, my foolish, despe

haky, barely a whisper. "Gre

Then, his voice, flat and unfeeling. "Is it

mered, pain lancing through

he said, already sounding impat

re you okay?" No "I'm coming."

ding her frail hand. Gregory was on another continent, negotiating another deal. He didn't even call. Whe

hing. Over life, over death, over human connection. He truly was incapable of love. I had convinced myself that this wa

ust being Gregory. He was a force of nature, a shark in a suit. And I was just another

a charity gala. Then, a bold headline in a gossip col

aspiring actress.

asn't just the news

t audition? The man who left me bleeding on a highway for a phone call, had bought her an entire off-Broadway theater fo

. The man I knew didn't do affection. He

regory was too shrewd for such open displays of... emotion

had my own resources, my own connections. I initiated a discreet inves

ealized later. All I got were blurry, grainy photo

d. His face was tilted down, a soft expression on his usually impassive features. He was pr

of affection. J

ge of his protective hand seared into my mind. I didn't see the truck until it was t

l room. My head throbbed. My body ach

face was grim, his eyes cold. He didn' t ask about m

low and even. "Mr. Henson has in

ced m

tinued, his eyes unwavering. "And to maintain a low profile. Certain

y head. I looked at my bandaged arm, the IV drip. This wasn't

o silence me. To protect her. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the shock in my heart. How co

rom the police. There had been a public disturbance. Gregory He

rs and news reporters. In the center, in a small, roped-off section, sat Kennedy Hewitt. She was lounging on a bench, a

enses. She smirked, then leaned back, deliberately

ode out, his jaw tight, his expensive suit rumpled. His left eye was

r a fraction of a second. There was no concer

His voice was low, laced with irritat

I said, my voice

d, dismissing me with a flick of

cold, ruthless mask melted away. His eyes softened, his sh

voice tender, a tone I had never he

ly dry. "He said... he said you were soliciting a prostitute!" she wailed, point

nson. But he didn't deny it. He didn't even look embarrassed.

e thick with devotion. "Let them say what they want. I'll

her childish tantrum? The man who

nson, you sustained a concussion and three fractured ribs protecting Ms. H

ed him. "You were hurt?" Her voice was laced wit

out, gently cupping her face. "As long as you're safe, nothing else matter

rossed her face. "You hear that, Mrs. Maddox?" she purred, her vo

m to go to jail, Gregory! I want her to suffer! I want her to know her place!" She pointed at

His eyes were like chips of ice. "Christie,"

ers, the buzzing fluorescent lights. Everything fa

. Kneel for the man who tried to kill me. Kneel

. I just couldn't. This was the end. This was where I broke. My vision blurred, and the world dissolved into a c