Jordan Barbara ODonoghue

I calmly double-tapped the photo. In it, my fiancé, Ethan, and his stepsister, Chloe, were locked in a tight embrace. The location tag: the family ski lodge in Wyoming. In seven days, I was supposed to marry him, securing his claim on his family’s ten-billion-dollar trust fund. And here he was, on a “farewell trip” with his stepsister. My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Everyone asking if I was okay. I was fine. I silenced a call from a friend and dialed another number. “You can start.” The man on the other end was the elite private investigator I’d hired. Ethan thought I was some helpless vine, incapable of surviving without him. He had no idea my premarital assets were enough to buy half of his family’s company. He certainly had no idea that I’d already arranged for a new identity, and a perfect “accident.” He wanted to use me to get everything. And I wanted to ruin him at the annual charity gala, at the very moment of his triumph. That night, the enormous screen behind the stage would play irrefutable proof of his affair on a loop. And the police would escort him straight from the heir’s throne, a suspect in the “murder” of his fiancée. As for me? No body. No trace. I would become the nightmare he could never escape. ... That phone call was a week ago, the night before Ethan left for Wyoming. He’d invited a few groomsmen to the Pacific-Union Club for an impromptu bachelor party. I drove over, planning to surprise him. The door to the cigar room was ajar. Inside, I could hear his voice, tipsy and slick with smugness. “Once I marry Olivia, those old fossils on the trust committee will finally shut up,” he said, pride swelling in his voice. “She’s the perfect choice. A Winston, a born hostess.” I smiled, my hand lifting to push the door open. Just then, his best man asked, “Then why the hell did you promise Chloe you’d go to Wyoming with her now? The annual gala is next week. Are you in......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

Ethan Whitmore got engaged to the woman he loved. And of all the days he could have chosen, it was the day I flew to Chicago for college. He told his fiancée, “Ava was spoiled rotten growing up. Her temper is awful. You’re so gentle. Let’s just have her stay in Chicago from now on. She doesn’t need to come back to Los Angeles.” His friends were all worried, convinced I’d hop on the next flight back, crash the engagement party, and lose my mind. But they didn’t know. I wasn’t going to make a scene anymore. And I wasn’t going back. Before I left for Chicago, I had already accepted another man’s proposal. In two weeks, I would be married. Before the wedding, I sent everything Ethan had given me over the last decade back to Los Angeles. Including the ring I once treasured so much I never took it off. … The last time I confessed my feelings to Ethan, it was a public execution. The private room was full of people, but it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. After several long minutes, Brooke, who was sitting beside Ethan, finally stood up to play peacemaker. “That’s enough, Ethan. You’re going to hurt Ava’s feelings.” “She’s still young.” Someone in the corner let out a low laugh. “Twenty-one is young?” The laughter started with one or two people, then spread through the room. I stood frozen in place, stubbornly refusing to leave. But as I stared at Ethan, my vision blurred. “Ava, what more do I have to say for you to get it?” Ethan flicked the ash from his cigarette and slowly rose to his feet. “I’ve been turning you down since you were sixteen.” I choked back a sob. “But you were so angry when I was dating someone else.” “Because you’re the Whitmores’ adopted daughter.” “If you got into trouble, it would reflect on the Whitmore name.” “What about the kiss on prom night?” Ethan looked at me, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “Ava, you were drunk that night. You were making suc......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

The pregnancy test came back positive. Maya Vale did exactly one thing before anything else. She called her lawyer and had divorce papers drafted. "Maya, once both parties sign, we file with the court. The judge signs off. The marriage is legally dissolved." Maya's expression stayed calm. "Can I sign for him?" The lawyer paused. Then he shook his head. "No. He has to sign personally. Or through a legally authorized representative." "He agreed to the divorce. He's just too busy with work to come in. You don't believe me? I'll call him right now. He'll tell you himself." She pulled out her phone and dialed Rowan Cross. "Rowan. I have something I need to tell you." She didn't even finish the sentence before his voice cut through—cold, impatient, almost bored. "I told you already. Your life, your decisions. Don't waste my time with trivial nonsense." Right next to him, Piper Lane let out a soft, syrupy laugh. "Rowan, you're peeling them too fast. I can't possibly eat all this." The line went dead. Maya looked up at the lawyer and smiled, just slightly. "See? I told you." The lawyer frowned but followed procedure. He slid the papers across the desk. Maya signed. When she set the pen down, it felt like a stone she'd been carrying in her chest for years had finally cracked and fallen away. She went home. She took out the framed photo she'd kept like a relic and wiped it clean, slow and careful. The housekeeper walked past. She saw Maya polishing that same frame again and couldn't help whispering to the other staff. "She's so in love with him. She stares at that photo every single day. Cleans that frame every single day." "What good does loving him do? Rowan doesn't care about her at all." "Right? Back when Piper was still in London, he used to fly out to see her constantly. Now that she's back in New York, he spends nearly every waking moment with her. He barely even comes home." Their voices carried pity. ......