elyn

that momentarily soothed the raw edges of my soul. He found me shivering in the diner booth, wrapped me in his expensive cashmere coat, and drove me to a private hospital. He handled everything

ory of Chace's cold eyes, his dismissal, his cruel words – "My charity" – replayed in an endless loop. I

ming an interior designer, to support his ambition. I had believed his promises, endured his family's subtle slights, and the public's outright scorn, all for a futu

t listened, his hazel eyes full of a quiet understanding. But I knew what I had to do. I had to reclaim my name. I had to prov

but determined. "From Chace's penthouse. Our marriage license

dangerous. He has security crawling all over t

g me. "It's the only way I can prove who I am. Th

in his eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice

ce had always promise

anged for a "distraction" at the Bentley penthouse, a minor alarm to pull security away from the

Kristian had provided, I slipped past the diverted security, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. The penthouse was even more opulent than I rem

e where I had found the prenup. My hands trembled as I punched in the code, a jumble of numbers that used to hold so much meanin

a thick envelope, clearly marked "Marriage Certificate." Relief, sweet and intoxica

The distraction hadn't worked. Or it had worked too well. Panic seized me. I fumbled with the certificate, my h

ain. But it was too late. Two burly security guards, men I' d never seen before, burst into the study.

em barked, his voic

y hands raised in a gestur

exploded in my head as it hit the sharp corner. My vision swam, lights dancing before my eyes. A fist connected with my stomach, stealing m

oice thick with rage. "You think you can jus

ing blood. "No... I'm... his wife..." The words

the haze of my agony. "His wife? You're the crazy st

es. I felt the precious certificate slip from my grasp, falling

rious, cut through the haze. "W

their bodies stiffening. I heard a fa

pale, his eyes wide with horror as he took in the scene. My battered, bloody form on the floor, the two h

pered, his voice la

ly replaced by something else: exasperation. "You shouldn't have broken in, Gracelyn," he sai

efused to acknowledge my pain, my existence. The last fragile thread of hope snapped. I close