Married To The Fake Comatose Billionaire

gany double do

he scuffed canvas shoes on Justice's feet. His upper

rsian rug. She didn't look at the butler. She didn't look at the multi-million do

he man sitting behind

ger against the glass. The sound

in the air. Her lips were stretched into a smile that didn't reach her cold, assessing eyes.

angling her face for a selfie. As Justice walked in, Emery's eyes flicked to the screen

d flat on a thick, leather-bound folder

and stopped exactly one inch from the ed

flat command. "The Aguirre family exp

il crest of the Aguirre family g

ith artificial sweetness. She set the teacup down with a soft clink. "This marriag

gh school student from the slums marrying a billionaire? Even if he is a vegetable

dn't sweat. She looked at the three of them, and her stomach fe

from the folder an

apital injection?" Justice asked. Her voi

e hadn't expected the uneducated girl he'd dumped in the co

t the glass desk. The impa

ing a dull red. He tugged violently at his silk tie. "You si

idn't hold a single ripple of emotion. She looked at the red-faced man with absolute, c

, pale fingers flipped th

o the financial clauses on page fourteen. There it was. A three-hundred-million-doll

led out a sleek black credit card. She tossed it onto the gla

aid, her chin lifting. "Buy yourself somet

hed past it and picked up the Montblanc f

a faded, oversized t-shirt, Justice's hands were elegant-the fingers impossib

al page. She pressed the g

he signed her name in

an inch. The greed in his eyes flar

the glass desk and rolled off,

Derek. Her e

Justic

e didn't look at the credit card. S

ising in pitch. "There are bags in the guest room. Do not

tride. She walked straight

button. The metal doors slid open, and she stepped inside, watching th