The Billionaire's Substitute Wife Demands Divorce

or three years when I finally understood

an whose portrait he kept locked in the attic

ound her-Georgia Freeman, frozen in oil paint, smiling in a field of sunflowers. Same dark ey

nd calling it love. For three years, his entire family had watched me

ear magenta, he t

wn the trash chute. I looked the most powerful man in Manhattan in the eye a

time in our marriage, Hart

I knew: the ga

just be

ne being the

.

ng to her skin. A thick white towel was wrapped around

the bed, whiskey swirling in his hand. Low la

slowly. Then they flicked to a specific drawer i

before her mind did. Her

Inside, a collection of nightgowns lay perfectly folded. All

r warm skin. In the mirror, a woman stared back-elegant, dark

omeone else

The ice clinked. A familiar fire had ignited in hi

ed the delicate strap on her shoulder, reverent and possess

voice low and thick. "It's the

lways was. But tonight, for the first time in

arried her to the bed, laying her

intent. His kiss tasted of whiskey and control-a combination th

air, Ellie lay wide awake. She studied the sharp line of his jaw, the

ll thing feel so profou

e'd asked once, ear

ssion. "The first time I saw you, y

heir private love story. An endearing quirk of the man

t to the living room for water. H

age. Unkno

imal impulse-made her slide

entence. The words hit lik

that blue nightgown.

he barely caught it. A chill spread from her fee

sti

pulsed in

for what?

rembling. A prank. It had to be.

cision. It had targeted the one hairline cr

t from the trash-as if erasing

artwell hadn't moved. He slept peacefully, the pic

careful not to touch him.

fully curated had just fractured

g certainty, that it went al