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The Unwanted Wife And Her Secret Empire

The Unwanted Wife And Her Secret Empire

I opened my eyes to a tearing pain and an unfamiliar ceiling, lying next to the most powerful man in the capital. Foreign memories crashed into my mind. I had transmigrated into the body of Irena Frost, a woman who had just drugged and trapped the cold, ruthless heir Evertt Barton into a scandalous marriage. The original owner did it to escape being sold to a murderous old merchant by her own cruel father. But Evertt didn't know that. When he woke up, his eyes were full of absolute disgust. He threw a prenuptial agreement at my face, demanding a quiet divorce in two years and warning me not to use a pregnancy to blackmail his family. Everyone in the estate treated me like a greedy, pathetic joke, just waiting for the day I would be thrown out onto the streets. The original Irena had died in despair, terrified and hated by the man she chose as her only shield. I felt a deep ache for the girl who had to ruin her own reputation just to survive. I absolutely refused to let this second chance be dictated by a man who despised me. I looked right into Evertt's icy eyes and demanded an astronomical divorce settlement to play his perfect wife. "Deal. I consider it a job." With millions wired to my account and a magical spatial ring from my past life suddenly awakening on my finger, I stopped crying. I was going to use his money to build a massive commercial empire in secret, and when the two years were up, I would leave without looking back.
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Chapter 4

Irena stood on the marble landing of the grand staircase. She looked down at the massive entrance hall. Jada Wray was standing in the center of the room. Jada held a white lace handkerchief pressed against the corner of her eye. She was sobbing loudly, complaining to the stiff-backed head butler. Watching Jada's fake tears, a different memory forced its way into Irena's mind. It was a memory of a much larger, much more dangerous performance. It was the night of Eleanor Barton's seventieth birthday gala. The memory was vivid. Irena felt the tight, uncomfortable fabric of an outdated borrowed dress scratching her skin. She remembered hiding behind a large marble pillar in the crowded ballroom. The air smelled of expensive perfume and roasted meat. She saw Evertt Barton across the room. He was surrounded by politicians and wealthy businessmen. He looked untouchable. The memory shifted. She saw her own hands shaking as she handed a thick stack of cash to a young waiter. She watched the waiter pour a colorless, potent sedative into a glass of sweet fruit wine. She watched the waiter carry the tray through the crowd. She watched Evertt take the glass and drink it. Minutes later, Evertt rubbed his temples. His face was pale. Two large security guards escorted him out of the ballroom and up the stairs to a private lounge. The original Irena had waited in the shadows. She counted the minutes. Then, she slipped past the security cameras. She opened the door to the lounge. Evertt was sitting on a leather sofa. His eyes were closed. His tie was pulled loose. He was fighting the effects of the chemical. Irena remembered the physical terror. Her stomach was in knots. She walked toward him. She grabbed the collar of her own dress and ripped the fabric down, exposing her shoulder. She messed up her hair. Then, the door burst open. The memory was blinding. Flashbulbs from cameras exploded like lightning in the dark room. A crowd of reporters and socialites pushed into the doorway. Irena screamed and curled into a ball on the sofa. Evertt's eyes snapped open. The flashbulbs lit up his face. He looked at Irena. His eyes were completely dead. He looked at her like she was a corpse. That night destroyed the original Irena's reputation. She became the biggest joke in the capital. But the plan worked. Eleanor Barton forced Evertt to marry her to stop the scandal from ruining a massive military contract. Irena got her two-year protection deal. The memory faded. Irena blinked. Her vision focused back on the present moment. She looked at Jada. Compared to the brutal, life-or-death trap the original Irena had set, Jada's little game with a crying child was pathetic. Irena started walking down the stairs. Her heels hit the marble steps with a sharp, rhythmic sound. Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound cut through Jada's fake crying. Jada looked up. When she saw Irena's cold, beautiful face, Jada's eyes widened. A flash of jealousy and panic crossed her features. Jada quickly reached behind her and pulled a small, six-year-old girl forward. This was Peggy. Jada pointed a finger up at Irena. "Why did you do it?" Jada yelled. Her voice was shrill and loud. "Why did you break Peggy's favorite doll yesterday? You are a monster!" The maids and footmen in the hall stopped moving. They stood against the walls, holding their breath. They were waiting to see the hated wife get humiliated again. Irena reached the bottom of the stairs. She walked straight toward Jada. She did not look at the angry mother. Instead, she bent her knees and crouched down so she was at eye level with the little girl. "Peggy," Irena said. Her voice was soft but carried a heavy weight. "Where were you yesterday afternoon?" Peggy bit her bottom lip. Her small hands shook. She looked up at her mother, terrified. Jada stepped forward and tried to block Irena. "Do not speak to my child! You are scaring her!" Irena stood up slowly. She smoothed the fabric of her sleeve. She looked Jada directly in the eyes. Her expression was full of mockery. "I find it very interesting that I broke a doll in the garden yesterday," Irena said clearly, making sure every servant heard her. "Especially since I was lying in my bed with a high fever all day. Dr. Hudson, the family physician, was sitting next to my bed." Jada's face froze. The color drained from her cheeks. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She had not checked Irena's schedule. Before Jada could think of a lie, the heavy front doors of the mansion swung open. A rush of cold wind blew into the hall. Evertt Barton walked in. He wore a heavy wool coat. His presence instantly sucked all the air out of the room. He stopped in his tracks, looking at the scene in front of him.

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