He Faked Our Marriage, so I Took His Fortune

The sound of a glass shattering inside the suite snapped me back to my senses.

"You two aren't legally married? That can't be right. Five years ago you posted your marriage license in the group chat!"

Someone's voice cracked with shock.

"No way, bro. You went that far? Your family actually forged a county marriage license?"

I clenched the fruit platter with everything I had, fighting to keep my legs from buckling.

He had to be joking. Otherwise, how could I explain the seven years we'd spent together?

The first time we met, he'd passed out drunk on the sidewalk. I held an umbrella over him and stayed until dawn.

Later, we moved into a run-down apartment that cost $900 a month.

I worked as an office clerk. He was in sales, always on the road.

Money was tight, but we savored every moment of it.

With both of us working hard, we'd finally moved into a nicer apartment this year, one that cost $1,200 a month.

And yet, this was the same man who used to warm my hands and feet on cold winter nights.

He was lounging in the seat of honor now, a cigar between his fingers, his smile cruel and flippant.

"When I registered the marriage with her, I used my twin brother Julian's ID."

"After our parents' divorce, he went abroad with our mother. Heard he joined Doctors Without Borders. Don't even know if he's alive."

He exhaled a slow stream of smoke.

"At first I thought she was targeting me on purpose. On a whim, I played the poor guy and strung her along. Didn't expect the stupid woman to fall deeper and deeper, begging me to marry her, even saying she wanted to have my kids."

"The marriage license was easy enough. But children... a Mercer heir? No way I'd let some broke nobody carry that."

"So I swapped her vitamin pills for birth control."

"Broke nobody." "Birth control." Every word cut like a blade, and I couldn't stop shaking.

I crouched down and set the fruit platter on the floor. My trembling fingers pressed against my lower belly.

Earlier this year, I'd been diagnosed with infertility. Had he been behind that too?

But when I told him I wanted a baby, he'd seemed just as excited...

Early to bed, early to rise. Jogging, working out. Going along with every part of my fertility routine.

After the diagnosis, I locked myself in the bedroom and cried for days on end.

Tony held me and said it was fine if we couldn't have children. I was his one and only.

Those sweet words now felt like a slap across the face.

They left me reeling.

Inside the suite, a chorus of impressed voices erupted.

"Brilliant!"

"Hold on, I heard your family's arranging a marriage with the Hawthornes. When are you going to come clean to Bianca?"

Tony took a sip of his drink and sneered. "Why would I come clean?"

His eyes carried a lazy arrogance, his tone careless.

"The arranged marriage goes ahead as planned. As long as Julian doesn't come back, I'm Bianca's husband. Why not have the best of both worlds?"

"And if the truth ever gets out, the name on the marriage license is my brother's. Nothing to do with me."

The suite erupted in laughter again.

"Classic Tony. Always three steps ahead with the exit plan. No wonder my mom tells me to learn from you."

"Poor Cinderella. I almost feel sorry for her, but that's not going to stop me from enjoying the show..."

Through the door, the clinking of glasses mixed with their gleeful mockery.

I felt as though every shred of dignity had been stripped from me. I slumped to the floor like a rag.

No. I couldn't let Tony see me like this.

I hauled myself up and braced against the wall, shuffling to the break room.

"Bianca? What happened?"

Meeting a coworker's worried gaze, I let myself pass out.