The Unwanted Wife And Her Secret Empire

Irena sat in the heavy leather chair. The study smelled of old paper, leather, and the faint scent of Evertt's sharp cologne. The room was designed to intimidate. Dark wood panels covered the walls. The desk between them was massive. While waiting for him to look up, her sharp eyes caught the edge of a financial newspaper spread out near a stack of files. The bold headline screamed about the Barton Group's unstable stock following rumors of a rift in the family.

Evertt sat behind the desk. He held a gold fountain pen between his long fingers. He spun it slowly. His dark eyes analyzed her face, looking for weakness.

Irena looked right back at him. She did not lower her chin. She did not look away.

Evertt stopped spinning the pen. He picked up a thick stack of papers from the corner of his desk. He threw the file across the smooth wood. It slid and stopped right in front of Irena.

"The terms of the prenuptial agreement remain exactly the same," Evertt said. His voice was flat. "Two years. When the time is up, we divorce. You leave."

He leaned forward. He placed his elbows on the desk. "Do not think last night changes anything. If you end up pregnant from that little stunt, you will not use a child to blackmail the Barton family. I will take the kid, and you will never see it."

Irena reached out and opened the file. The paper felt thick and expensive under her fingertips. She scanned the pages quickly. She saw the strict non-disclosure clauses. She saw the paragraphs stating she would give up all claims to Barton assets.

She let out a short, quiet laugh. She closed the file and pushed it back toward the center of the desk. "I completely agree to the two-year timeline. I want the divorce just as much as you do."

Evertt's eyebrows pulled together. A flash of surprise crossed his face. He had expected tears. He had expected her to beg for a real marriage.

"However," Irena continued, her voice steady. "I want to change the financial settlement."

Evertt's face hardened instantly. The surprise vanished, replaced by deep disgust. "There it is," he sneered. "The real reason you are sitting there. You finally show your true colors. You are just a gold digger."

Irena did not react to the insult. Her heart rate did not increase. "Call it what you want. But let us look at the facts. The Barton Group's stock has been unstable this week. I saw the financial paper on your desk. If a massive scandal about your marriage falling apart hits the news right now, your shareholders will panic. The financial loss to your company will be much higher than what I am about to ask for."

Evertt narrowed his eyes. He stared at the woman sitting across from him. She looked the same, but the way she spoke was entirely different. The pathetic, nervous girl was gone.

He leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his suit pulled tight across his biceps. "How much do you want?"

Irena raised her right hand. She held up five fingers. She stated a number. It was an astronomical figure. It was enough money to buy a small island.

Evertt let out a harsh breath through his nose. "You are greedy." He looked at her hand, then back to her face. But he knew she was right. To the Barton family, that amount of money was nothing. It was a drop in the ocean. If paying it meant getting rid of her quietly in two years, it was a good deal.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands flat on the desk. "Fine. I agree to the number."

Irena nodded once.

"But," Evertt added, his voice dropping an octave. "There are conditions. For the rest of these two years, you will behave perfectly. You will attend every public relations event the family requires. You will smile for the cameras. You will play the part of the happy wife. If you embarrass me once, you get nothing."

"Deal," Irena answered immediately. "I consider it a job. You pay me, I do the work. It is basic professional ethics."

Evertt felt a sudden, sharp irritation in his chest. He did not like the way she reduced their marriage to a simple business transaction. He reached out and pressed a button on the intercom sitting on his desk.

"Legal," he barked. "Bring the standard non-disclosure and settlement templates to my study immediately."

He took his finger off the button. The silence in the room became heavy. Neither of them spoke. Evertt stared at the window. Irena looked at the gold pen on the desk.

Half an hour later, a nervous man in a gray suit knocked and entered the study. He was the head of the legal department. He placed the templates on the desk. Evertt dictated the specific financial terms with sharp, clipped words while the lawyer rapidly filled in the blanks. Once finished, the lawyer slid the newly drafted, single-page document across the wood. He handed Evertt a pen.

Evertt signed his name with aggressive, sharp strokes. He pushed the paper to Irena.

Irena picked up the pen. She did not read the new document. She simply signed her name at the bottom. The scratch of the pen on the paper was the only sound in the room.

Evertt watched her hand move. His frown deepened. She was too calm. It bothered him.

Irena put the pen down. She stood up. She smoothed the front of her silk robe. She turned toward the door.

Just as her hand touched the brass doorknob, she stopped. She looked back over her shoulder. "Make sure the first installment of the money is wired to my trust account by tomorrow morning."

Evertt's jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck stood out. "Get out of my sight," he growled.

Irena shrugged her shoulders. She turned the knob, walked out of the study, and pulled the heavy doors shut behind her.

Evertt stared at the closed door. He looked down at the signed paper on his desk. His chest felt tight. He reached up and loosened his tie, pulling the silk knot down roughly. He stood up and walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out over the massive green lawns of the Barton estate. His anger had not disappeared. It had just changed into something darker and more confusing.