My Fake Husband Is A Secret Tycoon

the sound swallowed by the city's midday roar. Sunlight, sharp and unforgivin

He adjusted his silk tie, a nervous habit that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do

ust fumes and the smell of street-cart hot dogs. It did nothing to se

a cold, transactional finality. He held out a plain

elope, not moving to

e price of a used car. "For your time. Your co

Hartman emerged, all long legs and Christian Louboutin heels. The sunlight caught the diamond on

ad's, her smile a perfect, polished apology. "I'm so

gesture that painted Hayley as the aggressor. His eyes, once the color of a summer sky she'd lo

cooed, her voice dripping with synth

nails dug into her palms, the small, sharp pain a welcome

y, insulting. "Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get

but it carried the full, crushing weight of four year

number was there in crisp, corporate font: $50,000. Brad'

vision moments before was gone, replaced by somethin

, one to each e

i

t on the noisy street,

k flush crept up his neck. "

halves into four, then eight, he

fluttered into the air, a bitter confetti that set

iek, pulling away as if the scra

forward, his hand clamping a

her skin. Her voice was low, steady, and lethal. "Keep y

ut no sound came out. His face

mask twitched, her lips pul

d walked down the steps, her spine as

's voice was a venomous hiss behin

ow cab that screeched to a halt in front of her. She slid

It traced a hot path down her cold cheek. The dam broke, and silent, wracking so

ad set up. The clause was ironclad. She had t

was in seve