MARRIED WRONG, SOLD TO WEALTH

Lynn's POVI stared at the address Festy had sent me, my hands trembling with an excitement I hadn't felt in three years."You're sure about this?" I asked, looking up at my husband as he paced our cramped living room. The apartment felt smaller every day, especially since he'd lost his job six months ago.Festy stopped, turning to face me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Eagerness? Desperation? "Of course I'm sure. It's just one night, Lynn. One night of work and you'll make good money. We need this."We need this. The words echoed in my mind as I nodded slowly. I'd been begging him to let me work for years, ever since our wedding day when he'd convinced me to quit my job at the marketing firm."You don't need to work," he'd said then, cupping my face with such tenderness I'd melted. "I'll take care of you. I want to take care of you."I'd been so in love with him…had been since our university days when I'd first seen him across the library, tall and handsome with that conf

Lynn's POVArmstrong's hands were warm on my waist, his grip firm but not painful. So different from Festy's bruising fingers. The thought made me kiss him harder, trying to erase everything, trying to feel anything other than the gaping wound in my chest.He walked me backward toward a bedroom. The penthouse was a blur of expensive furniture and dim lighting. I didn't care about anything anymore.We reached a massive bed; king-sized, black silk sheets… and Armstrong lowered me onto it with a gentleness that made me want to scream."Don't," I gasped against his mouth. "Don't be nice to me."Armstrong pulled back, looking down at me. "Lynn—""Just do it," I said desperately. "Just get it over with. That's what you paid for, isn't it?"He gathered me against his chest while I cried, great heaving sobs that shook my whole body. He didn't say anything. Didn't offer empty platitudes. He just held me while I fell apart."I loved him," I finally gasped out. "I loved him so much. Since unive

Lynn's POVI stood in Armstrong's massive walk-in closet, wrapped in a towel, staring at rows of expensive suits and designer clothes. Everything was organized with military precision…shirts arranged by color, shoes lined up perfectly, even his ties were coordinated.I had nothing. The black dress I'd worn last night was pooled on the bedroom floor. My purse was somewhere in the living room. That was the sum total of my possessions."Marcus is bringing clothes for you."I jumped, spinning around. Armstrong stood in the doorway, freshly showered, wearing nothing but low-slung black pants. Water droplets still clung to his chest and shoulders. I forced myself to look away, my cheeks heating."I can't accept…""You can and you will." Armstrong moved into the closet, pulling out a crisp white shirt. "Unless you plan to wear that towel all day."I clutched the towel tighter. "This is too much. I should just go home and get my things…""No." The word was flat, final. Armstrong buttoned his

LYNN’S POVThree days had passed since I'd walked into Armstrong's penthouse thinking I was going to a job interview. Three days since my entire life had imploded and somehow rebuilt itself into something I didn't recognize.I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the guest bedroom, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me. The designer clothes Marcus had brought fit perfectly…today I wore fitted black pants and a silk blouse in deep emerald that made my skin glow. My hair was styled, my makeup subtle but polished. I looked like someone who belonged in this world of penthouses and luxury.But I didn't feel like her yet."You look beautiful."I turned to find Armstrong leaning against the doorframe, dressed in one of his immaculate suits. He'd been working from home the past few days, something I suspected he'd arranged deliberately so I wouldn't be alone. We'd fallen into an odd rhythm…breakfast together, then he'd disappear into his office while I explored the penthou

LYNN’S POVDiane Chambers was everything I'd hoped a divorce lawyer would be…sharp, professional, and radiating the kind of confidence that made me believe everything would be okay.She'd set up in Armstrong's dining room, papers spread across the massive table, her expression serious but kind."Before we begin," Diane said, "I want you to understand what you're signing. These papers cite emotional abuse, financial control, and coercion as grounds for divorce. They also include a restraining order that prohibits Mr. Vale from contacting you or coming within five hundred feet of you.""He was just here," I said quietly. "In the lobby."Diane's jaw tightened. "Then he's already violated the temporary restraining order I filed this morning. That helps our case." She pulled out another document. "This is a motion to freeze your joint assets until the divorce is finalized. Given Mr. Vale's history of financial abuse, I want to ensure he can't drain your accounts or take anything that's rig