Chapter 2
Ella's face cycled from red to white, then from white to ashen.
Dutton's eyes finally showed a flicker of panic.
My premarital assets were what had funded his networking and social climbing all these years. They were the capital that bought his political connections and promotions.
Without all that, he was nothing.
"What do you want?" His voice was dry.
I said, "Simple. Return every penny of my premarital assets, intact. Shortchange me by even one cent, and I will file suit at the county courthouse.
"I imagine the district judge would be quite interested in hearing a case about a top graduate embezzling his wife's trust fund."
"You!" Dutton was shaking with anger.
He never expected that I, who had always been so gentle and submissive, would turn so fierce and clever with my words.
I looked at Dutton, my eyes cold. "And I am not merely signing anything.
"I want you, Dutton, to write it clearly on these divorce papers: that I, Chloe Marsh, after three years of marriage without children, am voluntarily ending this marriage.
"That the Ludwig family, in their generosity, has returned all assets in full, restoring my financial independence and single status."
Dutton locked his gaze on me, his eyes tense and unwavering.
After a long moment, he forced a single word through gritted teeth. "Fine."
He knew this was his only option.
Money was trivial compared to his reputation.
*****
An hour later, the front doors of the Ludwig estate swung open.
Every item from my asset inventory was packed and lined up on the front steps, ready to go.
I took the bag Cathy handed me.
Inside were my asset inventory and the rewritten divorce papers.
I walked down the Ludwig residence steps, one by one. I did not look back.
I felt not a shred of attachment to that place.
The snow was falling harder.
Cathy held onto me, her voice trembling. "Ms. Marsh, where do we go now?"
Yes, where?
My family had long since fallen on hard times. There was no place for me in Vanderlyn anymore.
Just then, an extravagantly luxurious coach pulled up before me.
The curtain drew back, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty marred by a roguish, carefree grin.
It was Phillip Sherman, the most notorious playboy heir in all of Vanderlyn.
Everyone gasped.
Phillip flashed me a lazy smile. "Ms. Marsh, I have been waiting a long time for you. Now, are you willing to get in my coach and marry me?"
The entire street fell dead silent.
All eyes locked onto me. Shock. Contempt. And the cruel, eager light of people waiting to watch me fall.
Dutton and Ella stood frozen in the doorway; they looked like they had seen a ghost.
Cathy tugged nervously at my sleeve from behind. "Ms. Marsh, he is the heir to the Sherman family fortune."
Phillip was the notorious troublemaker all of Vanderlyn knew about.
He spent his days street racing, gambling for high stakes, burning through his trust fund, and chasing women.
Rumor had it that the women in his estate outnumbered the flowers in the imperial garden.
How could a guy like him show up here and want to marry me, a woman who'd just been divorced?
Phillip seemed to read my mind.
He arched his brow. "What, are you scared? Or would you rather wander the streets than marry a bad boy like me?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a force that made everyone pay attention.
I looked at him, at those eyes that seemed to see right through everything.
Suddenly, I realized. This was my one shot.
It was a chance not merely to survive, but to live well.
I stood tall. Facing all those eyes, I spoke slowly, "Fine. I will marry you."
No hesitation. Not a single second of doubt.
Phillip grinned.
That grin was like a shot of the strongest winter whiskey, setting my heart on fire. "Smart."
He held out his hand to me.
I put my hand in his.
His hand was warm and steady.
Leaning on him, I climbed into the coach.
Cathy quickly followed after me.
The curtain fell back into place, shutting out the snow, the wind, and all those stares. It also shut out Dutton's ashen face.
The coach slowly began to move.
Inside, a brazier of hot coals kept it as warm as spring.
Phillip leaned back against the velvet cushions, eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
I sat across from him, motionless.
The air was thick with tension.