FOUR

Axel (Prince Crivelli)

I leaned back in my chair and scrolled through the messages my mom left in my inbox. It’s been almost a month, and she’s still pressing me about taking Cheska on a honeymoon. I’ve stopped wishing she’d mess things up and end the contract. No, scratch that. New plan: I’ll drag her through the mud until she begs for mercy.

Prince Crivelli is my name—making people’s lives hell is my game. She thought marrying me would make her life a bed of roses. That’s what all these low-class, gold-digging whores think. But I’ve got a plan—and starting today, she’s going to cry.

I laugh to myself. She pretends to be innocent, but I know girls like her. Soft voice, sweet act—but deep down, they’re wolves in sheep’s clothing.

I work hard for my money, and I won’t let her take advantage of that. I’ll break her so badly, she won’t recover. But should I really let her live off my money? Hell no. Prince Crivelli doesn’t get played. She’ll regret the day she was born. She’ll regret signing that deal with my mother.

I tilt my head back against the headrest. If Mom hadn’t blackmailed me, I’d be out of this mess by now. But she doesn’t care. That night… that one mistake eight years ago—she’s been using it against me ever since. If it ever got out, I’d spend the rest of my life behind bars. I can’t let that happen.

They say karma’s a bitch. Maybe Cheska is karma. But I intend to beat her.

Love? That’s a joke. No one should fall in love. It’s stupid. You fall, you marry—and five years later? Boom. Trouble in paradise.

I look up as I hear Cheska coming down the stairs. Her hair looks like an old mop, and her face… well, she’s the definition of tragic.

“Well, look what the devil dragged in.” I chuckle. “Your face—it’s worse than a thousand volcanoes erupting. A truly devastating sight, my dear wife.”

“Whatever.”

“You better clean yourself up for the party later. Important people will be there, and your face is embarrassing enough. Do me a favor—cover it with a cloth, wife.”

“I didn’t know there was a party,” she replies, arms crossed.

“Well, now you do. This is going to be the most embarrassing day of my life.”

“Oh, trust me. It will be—if you don’t stop nagging me.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, wife?”

“Oh, you’ll see, husband.”

“You’ll address me by my name.”

“I have a headache, so please—stop talking.”

“Last I checked, this is my house!”

“That was the last time. Right now, this is our house. So shut up.”

I grip the edge of the sofa and glare at her. The audacity—to call this her house! I built this place with my blood and sweat. We’ve been married less than a month, and she’s already back-talking me. Her job is to listen, not talk back! That’s what a wife is supposed to do.

“Your house? Stay in your lane, woman. Don’t cross over—you might end up in an accident.”

“You’ve won many competitions—even ones you never entered. But,” she points a finger at my face, “there’s one you haven’t won. You should win a trophy for most annoying, most stupid, and—let’s not forget—ugliest. I wonder how women fall for you. You’re sickening. I wish I had a remote to switch you off.”

“I’ll leave before I do something I regret,” I say, getting up and storming out. I get in my car and speed off.

No one insults Prince Crivelli and gets away with it!

Jane (Cheska)

I actually feel great—well, aside from the headache. Why? Because I finally stood up to Prince and answered his rude comments. I’ve decided I won’t let him bully me anymore. I’m not that kind of girl. I deserve better. I don’t want this marriage any more than he does. And he doesn’t even know the real reason why I agreed to it. Yet he has the nerve to call me a whore and a gold digger?

Well… technically, I am kind of a gold digger. A little. Maybe. But I had no choice.

The reason I married him is bigger than my happiness.

I head outside to the garden, where Hannah is watering the flowers.

“Hannah,” I call out.

“Yes, Mrs.—I mean, Cheska.”

“Umm, is there any way you could get me a dress for tonight’s party? I don’t really know the area well. Or maybe you could give me directions—I’ll go myself.”

“No, dear! Don’t worry about that. I’ll get you a beautiful dress. But when you're free, we should definitely go shopping together. Deal?”

“Yes!” I nod eagerly. “Thanks so much.”

I walk back to my room. Time to mentally prepare myself to face all those rich, snobby people tonight.

Axel

Eight Hours Later

I pull up outside the house and get out of the car. I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath. I need to mentally prepare myself to walk beside my wife in public.

I head up to Cheska’s room. Women always take forever to get ready, and I’m not in the mood for it tonight. I’m already late. I push the door open just as Cheska steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her wet body.

She looks like a wet, miserable cat. I chuckle to myself. How can one woman be so unappealing?

“Yes?” she asks coolly.

“You’ve got five minutes to get dressed.”

“That’s not enough.”

“I don’t care. Get ready or I’ll leave your ass here.”

“Really? We both know if I don’t attend, people will talk. And your ego is way too big for that. So you’ll wait—and when I’m ready, I’ll come.”

“Don’t test me, wife.”

“Don’t test me, husband. Now shoo. I’m sure you don’t want to be late,” she says, her tone full of attitude.

I storm off without another word.

This will be the first time we’re seen together in public since the wedding, and the thought makes me sick.

I go to my room, hop in the shower, get dressed, and head downstairs. Ten minutes later, Cheska comes down. She’s wearing a long, royal blue fishtail dress with a deep slit between her breasts.

I feel my skin crawl. Do men actually find her attractive? She’s so… distasteful. I can already imagine the whispers from my friends.

I stand up and face her.

“Woman. Let’s go—the car’s waiting.”

“Oh, now I’m ‘woman,’ not ‘wife’? Fine. Husband. Let’s go.”

The entire ride to the party, I keep glancing at her. I wonder if she ever had a boyfriend. If she did, I’m convinced he must’ve been blind. I love women. I love sex. But this woman? I can’t even picture myself touching her.

When we pull up to the venue, I get out and reluctantly take her hand.

“Remember, we’re the perfect couple—right, wife?” I whisper. “You don’t want the media catching us looking miserable, right? I know you’re not used to this kind of attention, so—”

Bright lights flash across our faces. I fake a smile and guide my “darling” wife inside. I feel like cockroaches are crawling all over me.

Everyone turns to look at us. I roll my eyes and make my way toward Polard, the host of the party.

“Old friend,” I greet him with a handshake. I turn to his wife, Seila, and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“This must be your beautiful wife,” Polard says, smiling at Cheska.

“Yes. This is Cheiska—I mean, Cheska. My beautiful... wife.” I clear my throat. “Cheska, this is my friend Polard, and his wife, Seila.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Cheska says sweetly.

Good. She’s playing along.

“You ladies chat—we’re off to get a drink,” Polard says, pulling me away from her.

Jane

As Prince walks away with Polard, I can’t help but feel all eyes on me. Especially Seila’s. She’s looking me up and down like I’m a stain on her designer carpet.

“As much as you want to pretend you and Prince are the perfect couple,” she says, breaking the silence, “I see right through you.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s obvious. You’re a gold digger. Prince doesn’t love you.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

“Sure you do.”

“I know Prince’s type—tall, brunette, model, movie star. Not poor and... tasteless. So seeing you with him? Something’s clearly off.”

“Our marriage is one hundred percent real.”

“Lies. You’re not used to this life. You’re poor. Prince is rich, powerful—every woman’s dream.”

“Even yours.”

“What did you just say?”

“Hmmm. Seems like someone has a crush on my husband.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“You said it yourself—he’s rich, handsome, powerful. The way your eyes sparkle when you talk about him? That tells me everything.”

“You clearly married him for money.”

“That’s not why I married Prince,” I say firmly.

“Then what’s the reason?”

“Love.”

“I bet he’s cheating on you.”

“I know your boyfriend is cheating on you. He’s been eyeing every woman who walks past, and I’m sure he’s slept with most of them.”

“We have an open relationship.”

“As open as your legs to any dog that barks?”

“Don’t you—”

“Keep talking and I’ll beat your celebrity ass right here.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Test me, Mrs. Open Sesame.”

“Nobody disrespects me! You’ll pay for this!” she growls, stomping off. I just smile and sit down, watching everyone enjoy the party.

Prince hasn’t even checked on me. He’s too busy flirting with some airbrushed, brainless beauty.

Fine. I’ll play my own game.

Jane (Cheska)

I get up from my seat and walk toward Prince. He’s laughing, holding a drink, and shamelessly flirting with that woman. I place a gentle hand on his back. He turns, sees me, and instantly frowns.

“Hi, dear,” I say sweetly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Then I turn to the woman beside him. “This must be the woman you told me about—the one you were planning to get in bed just so you could embarrass her later.”

Prince’s grip tightens on my arm, but I ignore him and keep going.

“But,” I raise my hand toward the woman, “don’t fall for his flirty little lines. He’s mentally unstable. Also, if he even thought of sleeping with you—”

“Cheska, le—”

“Shut up, Prince. When grown folks are talking, you shut your mouth.”

His eyes widen. His friends all turn to us with the same stunned expression. Oh, he’s embarrassed.

“As I was saying, he—” Before I can finish, Prince slaps a hand over my mouth and shoots me a death glare.

“She’s just joking, as always,” he says with a tight smile. “Right, Cheska?”

“Wow,” I say, pushing his hand off. “You actually remembered my name.”

“Don’t test me,” he growls through gritted teeth.

I turn to the woman again, determined to finish, but suddenly Prince sweeps me off my feet—literally—and storms out with me in his arms. All eyes turn as we head toward the exit.

Outside, he drops me to the ground. Just like that.

“Are you insane? How dare you humiliate me like that in front of everyone! I will ruin you!”

“Oh please,” I say, brushing off my dress. “You’re not a man—you’re a roach. And now, watch me spray you with insect repellent.” I raise a finger to his face and go, “Shhh.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “You’re childish. But two can play at this game, silly woman.”

Jane (continued)

Back inside, I sit alone again. I pull out my phone and start texting Drake. This party is full of plastic people, snobs, and fake smiles. Prince returns to his group and immediately resumes his game with his rich buddies.

I’m not in the mood to keep embarrassing him—for now.

A waiter passes by with champagne. I grab a glass and take a sip, scrolling on my phone.

Then, someone stops in front of me. I look up, expecting Prince—but it’s not him.

It’s a man—medium build, brown hair, striking grey eyes, and the most perfect-fitting suit I’ve ever seen.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says with a charming smile.

I just stare at him, saying nothing. He steps closer.

“I guess you’re here alone?”

“I’m here with my husband.”

“I don’t see him.” I point in Prince’s direction, but the guy doesn’t even glance that way.

“Your husband should never leave such a beautiful woman by herself. Why don’t we take a walk?”

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea. He wouldn’t like it.”

“I can offer you millions. Just come with me.”

“Again—I’ll decline.”

“Come,” he barks, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer. “We’d make the perfect couple. Leave your husband. Let’s elope, pretty lady.”

“Let me go!” I shout, trying to yank my hand away. No one reacts. Either the music is too loud, or people just don’t care. Damn these selfish celebrities.

“If I could just take you to my room—”

He doesn’t get to finish.

Out of nowhere, Prince slams into him, grabs his collar, and spins him around. Before the guy can react, Prince punches him in the face. The man punches back, and suddenly they’re throwing blows in the middle of the crowd.

“Prince!” I yell, trying to separate them—but he shoves me aside without even looking.

He’s furious. His face twisted with rage.

Soon, the music cuts off and everyone’s watching. Prince pins the guy to the floor, punching him again and again.

“Don’t you ever touch her again!” he roars, each word emphasized by another blow.

Polard finally pulls him off—only to get a punch to the stomach from Prince. I can’t help but laugh a little (silently). The chaos, the drama—it’s like a live soap opera.

Prince grabs my hand and storms toward the exit. Everyone stares as we leave.

Axel

Once we’re in the car, I burst out laughing.

“How was my acting, woman?” I smirk.

She gives me a confused, disgusted look.

“I had to pretend like we were in a serious relationship, baby,” I chuckle. “Sell the illusion. Keep the press talking.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Yet, here we are—married.” I open the door and climb in, grinning.

We drive home in silence. Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the house.

As we enter, I stop in my tracks.

My mother is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“Good evening, Mrs. Crivelli,” Cheska says sweetly.

“Cheska. Prince. I heard about the fight. I am not pleased.”

“Well, Mother,” I say smoothly, “I couldn’t let that man flirt with my gorgeous wife, could I?” I lean over and kiss Cheska’s cheek.

She plays along with a smile, but I know better.

She disappears upstairs for a moment, then returns with a first aid kit in her hand.

“Honey, let me clean your wounds,” she says, dropping it in my lap.

I frown. “What are you—”

“Sit still,” she says, interrupting me. My mother watches with pride as if we’re the perfect couple.

She pours alcohol on a cloth and starts rubbing my face like she’s trying to scrub a stain off a brick wall.

Every time I wince in pain, she flicks my forehead.

I clench my fist and grit my teeth.

This woman wants to play games?

Well, game on.

Jane (Cheska)

Morning sunlight pours through the massive bedroom window. I stir awake, annoyed at how comfortable the sheets feel. For a palace made of bitterness, the bed is infuriatingly soft.

I sit up and stretch, then notice the faint throbbing in my fingers. Right. I had spent the last part of last night “tenderly” nursing Prince’s wounds like a doting wife in front of his mother. Every flick to his forehead was worth it.

I smirk.

A knock echoes at the door.

“Come in.”

Hannah steps inside, her face gentle. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. Prince is already at the table.”

Of course he is. Probably barking orders at the staff.

“Thanks, Hannah. I’ll be down shortly.”

Downstairs, I find Prince sitting at the end of the long dining table, dressed immaculately as always. No trace of last night’s brawl remains—except maybe the faint bruise under his eye. I fight the urge to smile.

He looks up from his tablet. “About time.”

“You didn’t wait for me?”

“This isn’t a date, Cheska.”

I sit down opposite him, ignoring the heat rising in my chest. “You’re welcome for the first aid, by the way.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t ask for it.”

I grab a piece of toast and spread butter on it calmly. “Didn’t need to. I know how to play the game. That’s what you want, right? A picture-perfect wife for the media.”

He narrows his eyes. “Just don’t get used to pretending.”

“Don’t worry,” I say sweetly. “I pretend to like you every day. It’s exhausting.”

He leans back, arms crossed. “You talk a lot for someone with no real power in this house.”

I sip my coffee and meet his gaze. “Power isn’t always about money, Prince. Sometimes it’s about control.”

His jaw tightens.

Good.

Axel

Later that afternoon, I sit in my office, but I can’t concentrate. Not on emails. Not on financial reports. Not on anything.

I keep thinking about her.

The nerve. The mouth. The way she embarrassed me in front of Polard. The way she called me out in front of my friends.

And the way she looked in that royal blue dress.

I hate her.

But there’s something about her that sticks. Like a thorn in my side. Sharp. Constant.

The intercom buzzes. “Sir,” Ana, my assistant, says, “There’s a call from the tabloids requesting a statement about the fight last night.”

“Tell them no comment. And make sure legal shuts down any photos.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Ana?”

“Yes?”

“Put Cheska on my calendar. This afternoon. Four o’clock. I need to talk to her privately.”

“…Understood.”

Jane (Cheska)

At 4:00 p.m. sharp, I knock on his office door.

“Come in.”

He sits behind a massive desk, looking every inch the cold CEO. I walk in confidently and close the door behind me.

“You rang, Your Highness?”

“Sit,” he says flatly.

I do.

He watches me for a long moment, then speaks. “We need to establish rules.”

I arch a brow. “Rules?”

“Boundaries. Guidelines. For our… situation.”

“Oh. Like a ceasefire agreement?”

“If that helps you sleep at night.”

I cross my legs. “Go on then.”

“Number one. No public drama unless necessary. You humiliated me last night.”

“Correction. I saved your reputation by acting like I cared.”

He scowls. “Number two. No outsiders in our business. I don’t want to see you talking to random men again.”

My eyes widen, amused. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m protecting my name.”

“Right. Because your name is all that matters.”

“Number three,” he continues, ignoring me, “You stay out of my way unless we’re appearing in public together. I don’t want you invading my space.”

I stand. “Perfect. Because I’d rather eat glass than share space with you.”

I make my way to the door, but his voice stops me.

“One more thing.”

I turn, arms folded.

“We’ll be attending a charity gala this weekend. It’s formal. International media will be there.”

I nod. “Fine. I’ll find something to wear.”

He smirks. “Make sure it’s something that doesn’t make people gag.”

I fake a smile. “I’ll try not to outshine your bruised ego.”