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The Don's purchase
The Don's purchase
Author: Valentina

Glass Walls

Author: Valentina
last update Last Updated: 2025-03-28 03:40:15

Chapter One

"Aziza, you have to smile. Not too much though—you don’t look beautiful when you show too much teeth."

Mother’s words rang through my head as I forced myself to smile at the dozens of cameras flashing my way. You’d think with the way the paparazzi accosted us that I’d be used to them by now, but I wasn’t, and I don’t think I ever will be.

Wilbet held my waist in a punishing grip as I tried not to wince because just underneath my custom Versace dress throbbed a huge bruise  a reminder of when he had  pushed me down the stairs earlier that day.

Wilbet had a very short fuse

That's what his parents and my mother would tell you to make up for his excessiveness. But the truth is that Wilbet was a very abusive man.

I didn’t know he was like this when we got married. Not like it would have stopped me from marrying him, but at least it would have given me time to prepare. My wedding was the only thing I had done right, according to my mother. You see, I wasn’t even supposed to be born. My mother already had my sister and my brother, and she was content with her happy little family—until, well, me.

She never fails to remind me what bad luck I am because when she got pregnant with me, she was at the peak of her career. And let's be honest nobody wants a pregnant model. She took so much time bouncing back that it's safe to say her career never recovered after my birth. Hence, the hate.

I smiled a little for the cameras as Wilbet guided me inside the lavish restaurant where an exclusive dinner event was being held. I was tired of this life,waking up and getting dolled up to play pretend for the world as Wilbet Gregory’s wife.

I know I might sound ungrateful because a lot of people would kill to be in my shoes,a rich husband, unlimited credit cards, a chance to frolic with the cream of the crop. A fairytale life to those behind the lens.

But not to me.

I remember meeting Wilbet sometime last year at a gala I attended with my mother. I had no other option. It was either that or endure her mouthing me off the next week, and seeing as I value my peace and quiet, I followed her. Draped in silk and pearls, I looked pretty enough to attract someone suitable, Mother had said after giving me a once-over. Though, I suspect she never guessed that he would be that interested in me. Hell, I didn’t even expect it.

Turns out Mr. Gregory was very much interested in me, which came as a shock because anyone who spent a couple of minutes with me left I  was an absolute bore. Something I had to do because I could not see myself marrying someone as stuffy or aristocratic as my mother’s posé.

But Wilbet had stuck—annoyingly so and had refused to leave me. All my attempts to get him to leave me alone proved futile. And when he noticed I wasn’t giving him any attention, he started to woo me with the most extravagant gifts from beautiful gold pieces to high-end emeralds and rubies—in a bid to get my attention.

He got someone’s attention, that’s for sure.

My mother’s.

She began her usual pestering for me to accept his proposal. This was the very first man to show interest in me, and if I let him go, nobody might pay any attention to me. I wasn’t pretty like darling, beloved Cassandra, nor was I smart and innovative like sweet Noah.

So, I did what any sensible person would do.

I accepted Wilbet’s proposal because, one, I didn’t have a choice—my mother would have made my life a living hell if I had denied him—and two, he seemed like a nice person. What harm could be done?

Boy, was I wrong.

The wedding was planned by my mother and Wilbet’s parents and, like anyone guessed, was very grand. They wanted nothing short of the best for their only son. My mom only cared about the bragging rights this would bring her. I mean, two daughters marrying into wealth and a son who's one step closer to receiving the Nobel Prize? My mom was on the freaking moon.

On my wedding day, I stood in the bridal suite, makeup done. My elegant Vera Wang dress made me look stunning, but despite the beautiful exterior, I was a mess inside. Was I really about to do this? Tie the knot with someone I barely knew because of a few gifts?

If I called off this wedding now, sure, it would be embarrassing, but people would still talk about it, right? Giving my mother what she wants there’s nothing like bad publicity, right?

I picked up my bouquet, sighing helplessly. I wished I had someone to talk to. My sister barely said a word to me—even while growing up. It seemed as though, to her, I didn’t exist. And if my feelings were hurt, why would she care? She had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand.

It was even worse with Noah, who was closer to my age always buried in work. I doubt he even remembered he had a younger sister. He wasn’t even here for my wedding.

But Cassandra was.

I wished that maybe she’d just come inside and reassure me that it was pre-wedding jitters, that it would all pass. But she didn’t. No one did.

No one came to the bridal suite.

And no one walked me down the aisle.

I was alone. Just as I had always been.

Even my husband didn’t smile, grin, or cry when he saw me—left me wondering if this wasn’t the same man who had wooed me endlessly.

I would later come to understand that Wilbet never really loved me.

He was almost in the same position as I was.

Unwanted.

While my reason for being undesirable was because I was a bore and practically chased all the men away from me, Wilbet’s was much worse.

And like a fool I fell for him Hook, line, and bloody sinker.

Your wedding is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. The day you wear a pretty dress, look like a princess, and marry the love of your life.

Mine was anything but.

And the fact that I don’t get to have a do-over crushes me to this day.

A painful squeeze by my side snaps me back to reality.

"You’re zoning out too much. Where’s your mind at?" Wilbet whispered in my ear as I flashed a tentative smile.

"Nowhere."

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  • The Don's purchase    Pawn or player

    EMILE — POVHe rolled out of bed without a single word. Like he hadn’t just rearranged my guts.Classic Wilbet.If there’s one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck. I’ll give him that. Cold precision. Mechanical. Detached. But still—there’s a hunger to it. A need. I used to think it was about me. Now, I know better. It’s about control. About reminding himself that he still owns something—anything—in a world where everything else is slipping through his fingers.I stretched, letting the silk sheets pool at my waist, my skin flushed and sticky with the sweat of something that could never quite be called love. I watched him from the bed—back stiff, movements tense, shirt wrinkled from where it had been tossed across the floor last night. He didn’t glance at me. Didn’t say a thing.“You’re quieter than usual,” I murmured, voice low and drowsy, the kind of voice that invited secrets. “That wife of yours not letting you get any rest?”He paused for a fraction of a second, stiffened as

  • The Don's purchase    Cracks in Marble

    AZIZA — POVThere’s something about quiet that used to soothe me.Not anymore.Now, silence is just a breeding ground for dread.It started subtly—barely-there details I could’ve easily ignored if I wasn’t so attuned to lack. A maid I hadn’t seen in days. A driver replaced with a rental app. The fresh lilies that used to arrive every Tuesday from that overpriced florist in Victoria Island? Replaced with nothing. Just a lonely, empty vase on the dining room table, its glass catching the sunlight like it was mocking me.Wilbet doesn’t mention any of it. Not the missing staff, not the scaled-down dinners, not the canceled weekend getaway to countries that we never miss. He just moves through the house like it’s still filled with noise and people and champagne—like it’s still his.But I see the cracks now.The cracks in the marble floors. The chipped gold-leaf trim on the staircase. The way the lights flicker when the generator kicks in. Small things. But they add up.And then there’s the

  • The Don's purchase    The blue print

    EMILE — POVThey always assume I’m the villain.The bitter ex. The one who couldn’t keep him.But what they forget is—I built him.Before me, Wilbet was just another trust fund brat with charm and no compass. I gave him direction. I taught him how to hold a room, how to cut people down with a smile, how to weaponize silence. The slick suits, the cold ambition, the taste for control? All mine.I was the blueprint. The foundation. The one who shaped him into the man he is today. And now, he walks around like he invented power. Like he didn’t learn it in my bed, in my arms.They say he’s married now. That poor, quiet girl with the bruised wrists and wide eyes.Aziza.Even her name sounds fragile, like a whisper of a word that could easily be broken.She moves like a shadow, silent, careful. Like she’s always apologizing just for existing. She doesn’t talk much, but you can feel the fear in her posture, in the way she flinches before a room even notices her.She’s not a wife. She’s a poss

  • The Don's purchase    Too close too far

    MALCOLM — POVI had always prided myself on my restraint and control. It was something I had honed over the years—carefully cultivated through brutal discipline and relentless precision. I had immense experience when it came to handling people, especially women. I knew how to make them feel wanted, understood, even cherished, all while keeping my heart locked behind iron bars. But when it came to her… all those years of experience went flying out the window.I first saw her at a debutante ball. She wasn’t the one being celebrated—no, she was simply there to support her older sister, who was making her grand entrance into society. While the entire room buzzed over the elegance and poise of the beautiful, condescending older sister, my gaze landed elsewhere. On her. She was like a breath of fresh air in that stuffy ballroom, a vision wrapped in soft silk and mystery. Her discomfort was evident—like she’d rather be anywhere else but there. That alone was amusing to me. Unpolished. Authe

  • The Don's purchase    The price of a name

    WILBET — POVEvery man has his price mine thirty Million dollars And how do I intend on doing that Well it's very easy honestly See, I’m not some monster—I’m a product of my upbringing. I was raised to believe I deserved the finer things in life. Private schools. Tailored suits. Cuban cigars before I was legally allowed to smoke. I used to think wealth was a birthright, not something you worked for. But when you live like that without a plan? Without a fallback?You hit rock bottom.And believe me—I hit it hard.But I wasn’t going to beg. I had a reputation to uphold. A name. Wilbet Gregory doesn’t grovel. I had to be smart. Strategic. Marry rich—that’s always been the easiest con. That’s where Emile came in. God, she was everything I liked in a woman. Hot, leggy, toned as hell, and stupidly rich. She wore money like perfume. The kind of woman who bought islands for fun and never checked her bank balance.She was perfect.Except... she was wild. Fire in heels. Couldn’t tame her,

  • The Don's purchase    Paper Gods

    The rain hadn’t let up all morning. It was as if the universe was on the same page with my mood. It drummed against the windows with a rhythm too deliberate to ignore. The kind of rain that didn’t ask for permission—just seeped into everything. It filled the silence with something just loud enough to muffle guilt and expensive lies.The house was still. Sarah had gone grocery shopping. Wilbet, by some small miracle, had vanished hours earlier, muttering something about a board meeting and urgent calls. I didn’t care. All I wanted was silence.And the library—smug, dark, and lined with leather-bound delusions, Wilbet’s might I add—was the one place no one would dare look for me. The kind of room that existed for appearances, not use. The scent of old paper and wood was reassuring, if I didn’t think too hard about it.I ran a hand along the spines until I found a familiar title. The Economics of Prestige. Typical.Wilbet loved to decorate shelves with things he didn’t read. As if intel

  • The Don's purchase    Roses are liars

    The evening went surprisingly well—if we exclude the number of times Wilbet made a fool of himself.And as for Malcolm... well, if not for the people who saw us dance, I would’ve been sure I made the whole thing up.He didn’t say a word to me for the rest of the evening.Hopefully, he’ll let me go now.It was one thing dealing with silent abuse, but dabbling in infidelity wasn’t my forte, per se.The evening ended with Wilbet in high spirits, babbling away.I blame the never-ending flow of sparkling champagne.Not only could my husband not maintain a proper conversation, but he also had a pitiful alcohol tolerance.I ended up heaving the buffoon to bed—but that was fine with me.As long as he wasn’t going to touch me, I could live with it.I woke up to an empty bed the next morning.Wilbet’s side was very cold—an indication he had left a long time ago.Where to, you might ask?But honestly, I could care less.Sarah came into the room with a breakfast tray.“Good morning, miss.”“Good

  • The Don's purchase    Not yours to want

    "I’m all done, Mrs."Raya said as she excused herself to get her things ready to leave. As usual, she had done a stunning job—every bruise was efficiently covered, not a single trace left behind, like they had never existed at all. This was why Wilbet trusted her so much.And the dress… a work of art. A slender, simple silk gown from the archives of an ostentatious designer whose name escaped me. But it was breathtaking. Must have cost a pretty penny too. Anything to impress Malcolm Laurent, am I right?I stared at the woman in the mirror. She wasn’t me. She looked fearless. Stunning. The kind of woman people whispered about. The kind of woman others envied or wished they could be. But I was far—far—from that.I picked up the velvet box Wilbet had slid toward me earlier that morning at breakfast. Inside, nestled like temptation itself, lay the diamond necklace. I lifted the sparkling stones with careful hands and fastened them around my neck.It felt like a noose.A very expensive noo

  • The Don's purchase    Diamonds huh?

    The next morning, I sat at the long dining table, my hands wrapped around a delicate porcelain teacup. I wasn’t drinking—just holding it, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.Across from me, Wilbet was in high spirits. He spread marmalade over his toast, smiling to himself like a man who had just won the lottery."You’ll never guess who sent me an invitation this morning," he said, his voice carrying a smug edge.I didn’t answer. I kept my gaze trained on the teacup, watching the dark liquid ripple slightly with each movement of the table.Wilbet barely noticed my silence. "Malcolm Laurent," he continued, his voice swelling with satisfaction. "He’s invited us to a private dinner party at his estate. Can you believe that?"My stomach twisted.I didn’t need to ask why. I already knew.Malcolm wanted me there.The man had guts—I’d give him that.Wilbet grinned, taking a bite of his toast, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. "I knew he’d take notice of me eventually. The Laurents d

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