I Planned Our Divorce. He Planned My Love.

Synopsis

As the second daughter of the illustrious Evans family, I was the apple of everyone's eye, wrapped in a cocoon of affection and privilege. So you can imagine the collective gasp when I ended up marrying a nobody, a junior clerk named Samuel Andrews. My new husband was as thrilling as a history lecture, a quiet, brooding man who made no secret of his disdain for my "pampered princess" ways. And I couldn't see past his hopelessly plain clothes and the perpetually serious set of his jaw. On our wedding night, he didn't even touch me. He just grabbed a spare quilt, turned his back to me on the chaise lounge, and laid out the terms. "Three years," he said. "Then we get a divorce. A clean break." For the first time ever, we were in perfect agreement. I spent the next three years fantasizing about my freedom. Finally, the day came. I was practically giddy. To celebrate, I personally baked a batch of my famous scones and delivered them to Anthony Williams, who worked some cases with Samuel before. Samuel, a man who now held the power of the kingdom in his hands, had finally lost his legendary composure. He cornered me in the study as he pinned me, with fury burning in his eyes. He spat, "Who gave you permission to smile at him?"