The Unwanted Healer's Thirty-Day Fake Marriage

Bowers estate in Long Island. The air inside felt stagna

lain vase in the foyer. She saw Cynthia walk in, rolled her ey

grand staircase, the thick carpet swallowing the sound of her che

nter of a massive bed, an oxygen mask strapped to his pale

e through the mask. "You have to... marry well.

forward, grasping his cold, bony fingers in both of

held a porcelain teacup on a saucer, her posture perfectly rigid. She dabbed

e mattress next to Cynthia. "It's settled," Inger said, her vo

e man on the cover. "Julian Astor has the mental capacity of a

uelty. "The Bowers family does not feed useless mouths. You are a hig

fists clenching at her

l the plug," Ing

blood turned to ice

king a slow sip of her tea. "If you refuse the Astor boy, I will cut off the f

d began to beep rapidly. Almon'

ressing down gently to steady his breathing. She turned her

roke. "Give me three days," Cynthia said, her voice dropping t

e days. Not a minute more." She walked ou

quarters in Manhattan, Dominic sat behind a massive mahogany desk. T

t between his long fingers, the met

dmother, marched in. Her heels clicked furiously against the hardwoo

ing completely helpless. No one stopp

onto Dominic's desk. The glossy photos of

, her voice echoing in the cavernous room.

aw tightened. "I am not participating in a mean

don't pick a wife, I will freeze every pri

hair, his expression entirely deadpa

er her chest, her face contorting in fake agony, and collapsed onto the le

behind his eyes. He hated this theatrical manipulation, but he

ssed the silver bracelet onto the center

who owns this," Dominic sai

aight, her eyes locking onto the jewelry. She snat

ard. "Leo. You have three days to find the buyer of this

ractically ran out of th