My Fake Bankrupt Husband Is A Tycoon
I was trapped in a greasy diner by my own mother.
She was forcing me to marry my abusive cousin because he had paid her twenty thousand dollars.
To escape, I used a contract marriage app and begged a complete stranger to marry me at City Hall that very day.
Ethan drove a cheap Ford and wore a plain suit. I thought he was just an ordinary guy needing a fake wife.
When my mother found out, she brought thugs to destroy my flower shop—my only home and livelihood.
To protect Ethan from her endless extortion, I shielded him and screamed that he was bankrupt and drowning in credit card debt.
My mother fled in disgust, and Ethan took me into his apartment for the night.
But out of trauma and habit, I locked my bedroom door, muttering that he must be old and desperate.
He stormed out into the freezing night, leaving me terrified that I had ruined my only lifeline.
I didn't understand why he was so furiously offended, completely unaware that my "broke" husband was actually the most ruthless billionaire in New York, and I had just trampled his massive ego.
The next morning, his face was a mask of ice as he dragged me back to City Hall to annul the marriage and get rid of me.
"Annulment. Now," he demanded.
But the clerk just popped her gum and slid a pink paper across the counter.
"State law changed. Mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period."
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Chapter 2
Ethan slams his foot on the gas. The Ford lurches forward, merging seamlessly into the heavy Philadelphia traffic. I watch in the side mirror as Clarnce's furious figure shrinks and disappears.
I collapse against the headrest. A long, shaky breath escapes my lips. Cold sweat clings to my spine.
Ethan doesn't look at me. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to pull a clean tissue from the console. He holds it out to me. His movements are precise, almost mechanical.
"Thank you," I whisper, taking the tissue and dabbing the sweat from my forehead. "My mother... she was trying to force me to marry my cousin. He paid her."
Ethan's expression doesn't change. He just keeps his eyes on the road. "Disgusting," he mutters, the word clipped and cold.
He pulls the car to a stop across the street from City Hall. The massive stone building looms against the gray winter sky.
We step out of the car. The wind whips my hair across my face. As we cross the busy street, a delivery biker runs a red light, speeding directly toward me.
"Watch out."
Ethan's arm wraps around my shoulders. He yanks me hard against his chest.
The bike flies past, missing me by inches.
I am plastered against him. His chest is a solid wall of muscle. The heat radiating from his body seeps through my thin coat. I can smell that cedarwood scent again, intoxicating and entirely male. My heart stutters.
He releases me instantly, stepping back as if my touch burned him. He rubs his thumb against his index finger, a slight frown on his face.
"Stay close," he says, his voice devoid of emotion.
We walk into the grand lobby of City Hall. The marriage bureau is crowded with couples holding hands and kissing. Ethan and I sit on a wooden bench, a full two feet of space between us.
A bored clerk named Agnes hands us a stack of paperwork.
I chew on the end of my pen. I glance over at Ethan's form. Under 'Occupation', he writes Financial Analyst. It makes sense. He drives a Ford, wears a plain suit, and needs a fake wife. He's just a regular guy trying to appease his family.
Agnes reviews our forms. "That will be thirty-five dollars for the license."
I immediately dig into my canvas bag, searching for crumpled dollar bills.
Ethan beats me to it. He slides a plain, standard-issue credit card across the counter. "I've got it."
"We should split it," I insist, pulling out a ten and a five.
"Put your money away, Grace," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Agnes stamps the papers. "The judge can see you now for the ceremony. Do you have rings?"
I freeze. My stomach drops. "Rings? No. We didn't..."
The silence is agonizing. Agnes raises an eyebrow.
Ethan reaches into his coat pocket. He pulls out a plastic pull-ring from a water bottle he bought earlier. He looks at me, his dark eyes unreadable.
He steps closer. He takes my left hand. His fingers are warm and slightly rough. A shiver trails up my arm.
"With this ring," Ethan says, his voice dropping an octave, sounding incredibly smooth and convincing, "I thee wed."
He slides the plastic ring onto my bare finger. It fits perfectly.
My cheeks burn. I feel a sudden, terrifying flutter in my chest. I stammer through my vows, my voice barely a whisper.
"You may kiss the bride," the judge announces.
My eyes go wide. Ethan steps into my space. He cups my face with both hands. His thumbs rest gently against my cheekbones. He tilts his head down.
I close my eyes, my breath hitching.
I feel his lips press against his own thumb, which he has strategically placed right over my mouth. His warm breath fans across my nose. It's a fake kiss. A perfect illusion.
He pulls away. The judge claps. Agnes hands us the marriage license with a gold seal.
We walk out of City Hall. The cold air instantly shatters the illusion of intimacy. We are strangers again.
"Thank you," I say, bowing my head slightly. "I'll meet you here tomorrow at the same time to file the annulment."
"Tomorrow," Ethan agrees.
I turn and walk quickly toward the subway station.
Ethan watches her go. Once her small frame disappears into the crowd, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek, encrypted satellite phone.
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Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
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8.4
Everly spent four years playing the perfect, accommodating wife to Carson Moss, swallowing every grievance just to secure medical treatments for their sick daughter.
But at a high-society banquet she exhausted herself organizing, Carson's pregnant mistress crashed the party.
The woman shoved an ultrasound of Carson's "real heir" directly into Everly's frail grandfather's face.
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Carson refused to use his private helicopter to save the dying old man, choosing to protect his mistress and his company's IPO instead. Her grandfather died on the hospital table.
Instead of remorse, her mother-in-law demanded Everly publicly cover up the murder.
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Everly couldn't comprehend how a family could be so utterly heartless. Her only family was murdered, her child was abused, and her husband threw a five-million-dollar check at her face as hush money.
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She grabbed her sleeping daughter and ran out into the freezing storm, making a blood-bound vow to make the entire Moss family bleed.
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7.1
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