Fifty Million to Walk Away
After clawing my way to the top and driving out the first wife, I lived by one rule only.
Whoever paid was king.
So I became Jesse Fleming's perfect trophy wife.
He liked innocent, delicate girls, so I looked at him with wide, clear eyes.
He hated materialistic women, so I wore faded dresses and told him love could conquer anything.
Then he fell for a wild, redheaded girl from the streets. "You can't give me what Gina does. Let's break up."
He slid a bank card across the table. "Sarah, sign the papers, and the 50 million is yours. You don't want to walk away with nothing, do you?"
I looked down at the agreement, clenching my fists. Then a live chat popped up. 'Just sign it already. He's got HIV. You'll die if you stay with him!'
I was about to sign the papers, but froze and tore the papers into pieces the next second.