Married to the Coldest Media King

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 1087 | Released on: 04/02/2026

y was left slick and hostile. Puddles of oily water reflected the gray sky. A taxi splashe

elve dollars and forty cents. Not enough for an Uber to B

tion, her heels clicking an u

s were tinted so dark they looked like ink. Inside, Javion Brigg

. Heading to the

voice, distorted by the tra

nd a seat in the corner, clutching her bag to her chest. A ma

t, he slurred. I

ask of ice. Va te faire foutre, s

mped back into his seat. It was a

eeling paint and a radiator that clanked like a dying engine. It was a far cry from the penthouse on Pa

xes and cheap fashion magazines. Tara Kowalski, her roommate

a girl Dylan had once defended from bullies. Now, the dynami

, not looking up. I guess th

ast the sofa to her bedroom. Tara s

s. Your dad got beat up in the yard t

old spike of fear in her

s cheap red, acidic and staining. With a flick of her

nt of Dylan's beige trench coat.

r eyes gleaming wit

as one of the few things Dylan had m

he humiliation, the fear-it all boiled over into

d shoved her back against the cushions. Tara shri

face inches from Tara's. You think my lif

's hands. I'll call the cops! I'll tell the

t have a record. One arrest, and she would never pass the backg

he were burned. Dylan back

Jax is coming tomorrow to collect the rent. I'm going to tell him you tried to ki

ax. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about Jax. He was a

ming the door and engaging the flimsy loc

ll screaming insults,

tried to scrub the stain with club soda, her fingers rubbing the fabric until they were ra

eavily encrypted laptop. It was her real lifeline. She booted it up, the screen glowing in the dark room. She wasn't just a victim hiding from a bully. She was a hunter. She typed in a password and began to scan the dark web for chatter about Brennan Group's

floor. A text message

. We are e

it was a wrong number, or maybe a cred

ow to wrap her hand around the handle of a heavy-duty bo

d. Javion looked at the live feed on his tablet. He coul

en, drawing a red

e, he typed. Threa

, a reply came

Chapter End

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Married to the Coldest Media King

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“My father was the King of Wall Street until he was branded a fraud, turning the Maxwell name into a lead weight dragging me to the bottom of the Hudson. I walked into the Brennan Media Tower with blood-red lipstick and a desperate proposal, offering myself as a "paper wife" to Garland Brennan, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan. Garland didn't even look at me as a human being; he tore my term sheet in half and called me "radioactive" before having security toss me out like trash. I returned to my rotting apartment in Bushwick only to find my roommate's cousin, a debt collector named Jax, waiting to break my bones. He pinned me against the wall, his hand heavy on my throat as he sneered about selling me to a club to pay off my father's debts. With my ribs aching and my back against the radiator, I had to leak corporate secrets on Twitter just to summon Garland's private mercenaries to stop a predator. The humiliation didn't stop there. At the Met Gala, the elite mocked my dress made of construction tarp, and my father's creditors began harassing my senile grandmother in her nursing home. I was a cornered animal, and Garland Brennan was the only hunter offering a cage instead of a grave. I realized then that in this zip code, you are either the predator or the prey, and I was tired of being hunted. Garland offered me a marriage contract that demanded total submission-no equity, no voting rights, just an employee with a wedding ring. I signed the four-hundred-page document with a steady hand, but not before hiding a legal poison pill in the fine print. He thinks he bought a silent asset, but I just secured a front-row seat to his downfall.”