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Married to the Coldest Media King

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 789 | Released on: 04/02/2026

flew inward, skittering across the tile floor. Through the

dead! he screamed, slamming his

wn to cover herself, as if a thin sheet of plastic could stop a mo

he lock

om, breathing hard. He grinned

ched f

ds echoed from the living room, follo

vered inches from Dyla

r of the apartment didn't explode-i

They moved with the silent, efficient brutality of corporate mercenaries. One subdued Tara

oss the walls, settling i

one of the men said, his voice low and de

ugh-guy facade crumbling ins

twisted his arm behind his back with practiced force. Jax buckled, hit

ng in the corner, held

he bathtub, her body shaking so

calmly through the silent, controlled chaos, stepping over the de

idn't look at Tara. He walk

bruised, terrified, clu

cket. He simply stood in the d

w and steady. I am Carter. Mr. Bren

et out a sob, a raw, ugly sound that ha

er own, her le

the living room, Jax lift

ng blood. You set me up! I h

n at Jax with the indifferenc

t was a live feed of Jax's own mother's house, with tw

ill continue to enjoy her Tuesday night bingo. If you don't, we will forward evidence

arter ordered

nd a weeping Tara

treet. The block was quiet, with no red and blue light

he curb. Not a police c

ould be inside. She wanted to see him. She needed t

rear door. The i

ylan asked, he

rter said, closing the door after she climbed in. H

ourse. He was working. She was just a

ing the sirens and the squalor b

sage on his phone

physical injuries.

, the reply ca

the most Garland Brennan

Chapter End

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Married to the Coldest Media King

Bing Xialuo Modern

“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.”