The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

ANGELINA

~

"Just drop me off here please."

I said to the taxi driver, fishing out the last of my cash from my purse. The meter read fifteen dollars and twenty two cents. I handed him a twenty. "Keep the change."

The driver nodded, looking at me through the rearview mirror. "You sure you don't want me to pull into the driveway, miss? It's pouring out there."

I glanced out the window at the large Victorian house that George and I had called home for the past three months. The lights were on in our bedroom, even though it was only four in the afternoon. Strange. George was supposed to be at work.

"I'm sure. Thank you."

As I stepped out of the taxi, the sky opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour. Within seconds, my cream blouse was soaked through, clinging to my skin.

I hurried up the pathway, my painting supplies tucked underneath my arm in a desperate attempt to keep them dry. I had spent the day at the park, sketching, letting my mind wander. George had been distant lately, working late, barely speaking to me. I thought giving him space would help.

The front door was unlocked. I stepped inside, leaving a trail of water on the marble floor that my stepmother, Olivia, would certainly comment on later.

The house was quiet, except for a strange rhythmic creaking coming from upstairs.

"George?" I called out, setting down my supplies on the entryway table. "Are you home early?"

No response, just that continuous creaking sound. My stomach tightened as I climbed the stairs. The noises grew louder, and now I could hear muffled voices. A woman's laugh, high pitched, familiar.

I stood frozen outside our bedroom door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Part of me wanted to turn around, walk back down the stairs, and pretend I hadn't heard anything. But I couldn't.

I had to know .

I pushed the door open.

The scene before me burned into my retinas like acid.

George, my husband... my soulmate ...was naked on our marital bed with my stepsister Lisa beneath him. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her red fingernails digging into his back. They were so engrossed in each other they didn't even notice me standing there, watching, breaking.

"G- Gorge?" My voice came out as a whisper.

They both turned, and for one horrifying moment, nobody moved. Then Lisa smiled, actually smiled before pushing George off her.

She sat up, not bothering to cover her naked body.

"Oh Angel. You're home early." She stretched like a satisfied cat. "We thought you'd be out painting all day."

George grabbed a sheet, covering his lower half, but made no move to come to me, to explain. His expression wasn't even remorseful, it was annoyed. Like I had interrupted something important.

"What's.... happening?" I asked, though it was painfully obvious.

"What does it look like?" Lisa laughed, reaching for George's hand. "Your husband and I have been fucking for weeks now. Months, actually. Since before your wedding."

The room tilted. I gripped the doorframe to steady myself.

"...is that true?" I asked George, hoping, praying he would deny it.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. "Angel, come on. Did you really think this was working? Us? This marriage was a mistake from the beginning."

"But... three months ago, you said you loved me. You said we were soulmates."

Lisa snorted. "God, you're pathetic. He never loved you. Nobody could. You're so...bland."

George stood up, wrapping the sheet around his waist. "Lisa give us a minute."

She pouted but complied, slipping past me with a triumphant smirk. She didn't even bother to take her clothes, walking naked across the hallway to her room.

I stared at George, the man I had encouraged when he was nothing, the boy from the slums who had captivated me with his dreams and determination. The man who had never even touched me beyond a kiss, always claiming he 'wanted to take it slow' for my sake.

"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking.

George's face hardened. "You want the truth? You were a challenge. The good girl who didn't fall for my charm right away. I had to work for you, and I hate losing. But once I had you? Christ, Angel, you're boring. You're a fucking doormat. You let your stepmother and her kids move in with us, even though I told you not to. You never stand up for yourself. And honestly? The thought of sleeping with you just...doesn't appeal to me."

Each word was a dagger. "But we're married," I whispered.

"Not for long." He walked to the dresser and pulled out a manila envelope, tossing it onto the bed. "Divorce papers. Sign them."

I couldn't move. "Divorce papers? You already had divorce papers drawn up?"

"Claire drew them up last week. I've been waiting for the right moment."

"Claire? Your lawyer?" Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "Are ....are you sleeping with her too ?"

He didn't deny it. "Sign the papers Angel. It's over."

"No." The word surprised even me. "I won't sign anything right now. I need time to think, to understand — "

"There's nothing to understand!" He slammed his fist against the wall, making me flinch. "You served your purpose. I needed someone wholesome, someone from my past to help my image while I built my company. The struggling boy from the slums making good, with his childhood sweetheart by his side. It made for great PR. But now I've established myself. I don't need you anymore."