Wrong contract marriage, right husband

ays l

at Thorne Tech

y-four hours after my marriage certificate was filed, flooding my personal a

heavy sense of profes

ng the Henderson merger documents. As his executive assi

physically retrieve it and hand it to him

laughing, completely oblivio

g?" one asked. "Chloe Mercer looks l

coffed. "Isn't she still his as

ave of her hand. "He never planned to marry her. She w

mug so tightly my knu

uld tolerate-and pulled a crisp white envelope from my blazer pocket.

Right before the gala tonight?

m's arrogant voice ec

red an instinctive, physi

breakroom doors, I ducked i

saw him. He looked refreshed, dee

e gala dinner tonight," Liam barked at an intern. "

he stairwell wall

s going to publicly announce Chloe as his new fiancée. This was his c

. It was a text

onight? I know an o

s. How badly I wanted to hide in a dark, quiet booth

d to fin

d up. Work

ld hand him the files. And then

York luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from the cei

simple black cocktail dress underneath my tailored blazer. I clu

oom and spotted

the center of the bal

re a silver gown that hugged her curves, and the diamond

steadying myself. Le

crowd. "Mr. Thorne," I s

y plain attire with deep disdain. "You're late, and underdressed.

arling!" she shrieked, lunging forward to give me a fake, exaggerat

y face devoid of expr

early enjoying the dynamic. "Chloe is b

rd, a movement born purely of self-preservation. My el

as

nshot. Champagne flew everywhere-splashing across the floor, an

fell over t

uth in an exaggerated show of

ark with fury. He grabbed my arm

," he hissed into m

ng the room tilt around me. "It w

es. "Stop playing

. It grew louder, finally finding its strength. "I qu

ed this job. You need me." He dropped my arm, turning to the surrounding crowd with

re just an assistant, Clara

eavily in the air.

snap. It was a visceral, physical pain, like a

ge, icy clarit

clarifying,"

hands. It hit the marble floor

files. Pick the

the assembled elite. No one had ev

flushed crim

ture perfectly straight, my heels crunching satisfyin

rough the heavy double doors, through the l

through my blazer in seconds. I stood at

ic. A car pulled over to the curb. It wasn't

the driver's seat, the dashboard lights c

he order

he leather seat, overwhelming

the muscles in hi

he asked, his voi

nctively, a conditioned reflex bui

d out a silk, monogrammed handkerchief and, with i

lin

vering near my cheek. "I am n

s complete

bled instantly, and hot tears

still someone willing to