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No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.Your brother's wedding should be considered a happy day, right?
But for me, it's not.
In fact, I'm dreading it.
Not because of my brother-or his fiancée, for that matter, I do like her-but because I know who will be there, and that's something I'm not looking forward to.
I have what people call a rotten picker-for men, that is.
Every single guy I ever hooked up with or had a fling with were stupid assholes.
Except one. Spencer Bailey.
And he is precisely the reason why I'm not excited for my brother's wedding.
I'm definitely not ready to see him again.
But to tell my brother that I won't attend his wedding because I'm afraid to face my ex would be pathetic.
Even for me.
And I'm not that person. I'm not someone who runs from problems. I face them head on. Or at least, that's what I like to think I do.
Well, I guess if you're ready for some drama, then my life is definitely the right place for you to find it.
"Stop looking at me like that," I burst to my sister, Lauren, rolling my eyes and tossing my pillow at her. "I've already told you several times that I'm fine. And if anything, you should be taking my side on this. I don't have to remind you of the reasons why this sucks."
"I was just checking on you to make sure you're okay." Lauren tosses the pillow back at me before pulling her light brown hair into a ponytail and fixing her firefighter uniform. It still astonishes me how she can look so pretty wearing a uniform-and before 8:00 A.M. That should be considered a crime. "And honestly, we have, like, thousands of cousins coming to the wedding. Maybe you won't even see Spencer. Let alone bump into him."
She is right about that. We do have a big family. Mom and Dad have, like, countless siblings, which takes us to countless cousins and so on....
"Whatever," I mumble, frustrated. "What are you even doing here? Don't you have to go to work? I don't even know why you moved out in the first place if you are here pretty much every day."
"Well, last time I checked, this is still my parents' house. I can come by anytime I want. And I moved out because I wanted to be closer to the fire department. I can sleep a few more minutes since I don't have to drive there."
I groan, too frustrated to find a proper answer for her. At moments like this, I regret not having my own space.
But honestly, I went down that road several times before, and none of those times could I convince myself that paying rent while my parents own this huge ranch was a good idea. They give me enough privacy; I have my own room. I don't meddle in their business, and they don't meddle in mine, and I get to help them with some of the bills. It's a win-win situation.
"I'll be going now. Are we still on for picking up the dresses tomorrow morning?" Lauren asks with her hand already on the doorknob.
"Yeah, ten A.M. sharp. Otherwise, I'll leave without you," I answer, flashing her a grin and tossing the pillow back at her. She dodges it and turns on her heel, vanishing from my sight before I have the chance to tell her off.
I sigh, falling back on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I really don't want to complain about my life or anything-I'm not that person. I don't mope. I have a good life. I don't even have the right to complain.
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Homecoming Love
She won't take him back--no matter what. Or will she? Hayden Jenkins has lived in her hometown of Missoula, Montana, ever since she was born. She loves a simple life surrounded by her loving family, and that seems to be everything she needs. Or so she thinks. When her oldest brother's wedding appro/0/84256/coverorgin.jpg?v=389f4cc36ff1207cee55095274e64862&imageMogr2/format/webp)
