The billionaire leftover wife
Damien stared at the shards, then laughed—a sharp, humorless sound that echoed against the walls.
"Why am I just finding out" he muttered in a deceptively soft voice
"She signed up for a husband lottery" Red hurriedly answered
“A husband lottery?” he said incredulously. “You mean that show for bloody washed-up whores, desperate women, and social leftovers?”
His laughter grew colder, harsher, carrying with it an edge that made Red flinch.
“I wonder which category she fits,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Red didn’t respond, silently waiting as Damien took another long pull from his glass.
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