Revenge Marriage: The Jilted Ballerina's Comeback

Daphne stared at the document. The words "Last Will and Testament" were embossed in gold on the cover.

"Marriage Clause?" she repeated.

Charlton walked to the coffee machine. He poured two cups, his movements precise and deliberate.

"My grandfather was old-fashioned," he said, bringing the mugs over. "He didn't trust me. He thought I was too wild."

He set a black coffee in front of her.

"I don't get access to the two billion dollar principal of my trust until I marry," he lied.

Well, it was a partial lie. He could access the money at thirty. But he wasn't going to tell her that.

"And stay married for at least one year," he added.

Daphne laughed nervously. It was a jagged sound.

"You? Married? You're allergic to commitment. You break out in hives if a girl leaves a toothbrush at your place."

"I'm allergic to boring," he corrected, taking a sip of his espresso. "And right now, I need that capital. There's a hostile takeover I want to execute."

He slid the contract closer to her.

"I need a wife. You need a shield."

Daphne looked at the paper, then at him.

"If you marry me," Charlton said, "you become a Bernard. The Rose family can't touch you. The tabloids will have to respect you."

"And Campbell?"

"Campbell will look like an idiot," Charlton said, a dark satisfaction coloring his tone. "He dumped you for a merger, and you upgraded to a bigger fortune the next day."

Daphne hesitated. She traced the rim of her coffee mug.

"It's transactional," she said quietly. "Just like Campbell."

Charlton flinched internally. The comparison stung like a whip. He kept his face impassive.

"It's a partnership," he said. "Honest. Transparent. Unlike Campbell, I'm putting my cards on the table."

He tapped the document.

"We help each other. One year. Then we divorce. You get a ten million dollar settlement."

Daphne choked on her coffee.

"Ten million?"

"Hazard pay," he smirked. "Being Mrs. Charlton Bernard is a full-time job. The press, the events, the family dinners."

He leaned in closer.

"Plus, we go on 'Love in the Limelight'."

Daphne blinked. "The reality show? The one Campbell and Kandice just signed onto?"

"Exactly," Charlton smiled. It was a predatory smile. "We crash their party."

"We go on the show as the newlyweds," he continued. "We show the world you're not the sad ex. You're the happy, adored wife of a billionaire."

Daphne imagined it. She imagined Campbell's face when she walked onto the set. The temptation was sweet. It tasted better than the coffee.

"But... last night," she whispered, looking down. "The sex."

Charlton shrugged, feigning indifference.

"Part of the act. Or not. Your call."

Daphne stood up. She began to pace the kitchen, the oversized shirt billowing around her.

She looked out the window at the city that had chewed her up and spit her out less than twelve hours ago.

"I need to think," she said. "This is crazy."

"Crazy works," Charlton said. "Sensible got you dumped on a stage."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black card. It was heavy, made of titanium. The Centurion Card.

He held it out to her.

"Buy some clothes. Get some food. Think about it."

"I can't take this," she refused, stepping back.

"Consider it a retainer fee," he said, pressing it into her hand. His fingers brushed hers, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm.

"If you decide no, you can cut it up."

Daphne looked at the card. It felt heavy in her hand. The weight of a decision that could change everything.

"I'm going for a walk," she said.

"Take your time," Charlton said.

She headed for the elevator.

Charlton watched her go. As soon as the doors slid shut, his shoulders slumped. The confident mask fell away.

He ran a hand through his hair, anxiety tightening his chest. He was betting everything on this.