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.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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Dear your Royal Highness,

Alpha of Desire, This is my official letter of application. I saw your posters and articles in the newspaper, and I thought I would give this a shot. I know I am a simple commoner in your Pack, however, this opportunity would change my life. I am a father of two younger daughters, one twelve, and one eleven. Let's hope you actually consider this.

Thank you, James Thorne.

***

James Thorne,

We have considered your application. Unfortunately, you have been declined.

Apologies, Alpha of Desire.

***

Your Royal Highness,

Alpha of Desire, I gave it a few years, and I'm tempted again. Your advertising strategies really pay off, don't they? I would like to apply for a ticket to this party. What do you call it, the most auspicious party of the year, hosted by none other than the Alpha of Desire himself? I am a single father, who balances two jobs. I have two daughters, one fifteen, one fourteen.

Please, James Thorne.

***

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