Breaking The Script: My Billionaire Husband

d on the collar of her silk robe. The cold sensation gro

f a chair, and pressed it against her wet face. The rough tex

of pure rage. He lunged toward the stainless steel trash can, reach

lad in a simple hotel slipper, and slammed i

a loud, violent clang, missi

hand back, his

y, you throw away the only narrative that can save you. If you do not play the part tomorro

towel. She did not y

hate mail and opened a blank note app. In the flood of new memories, she'd seen it all with perfect clarity: the emails, the account nu

es and shoved the glowing

e said. Her voice was complete

. The color drained from his

nd the exact dates of the past three months. She detailed how every single time Justina had a negative, brainless PR

tina asked. Her tone was like ice. "Are you trying to make me famous, Miles,

up and down. He took a step back, his eyes dar

y. "This is how the industry works. It is cross-promotion. It gener

were quiet, but they cut through the air like

nd him. It tipped over and crashed onto the ha

, steady finger toward t

be in touch regarding the termination clause-

orphed back into anger.

nk you can survive without me? You think that disgusting, wrinkled old man you married is g

o hurt, but Justina fe

shed in her mind. It was the day they signed the pren

hat belonged on a Greek statue, not a nursing home bed. She remembered the cold,

mile touched the c

les. Let him believe the rumors.

e wall panel and press

the kitchen. Remove Miles from the pr

r finger of

sult, but the heavy sound of combat boots hitting the marble floor in the hallwa

a said, not even look

his feet and cursing loudly, but they dragged him backward

l into a deep,

shoulders dropped. The physical w

itchen, heading down the long hall

and flipped the light switch. R

n cheap feathers, neon crop tops, skirts so short they were basically belts, a

fresh wav

nd. The hangers scraped loudly against the metal bar. She moved to the next r

the center of the close

rner, to a small drawer she ra

k Lululemon yoga clothes. No logos. No

e black leggings. They fit perfectly, hugging her legs without restricting her mo

full-length mirror at

er pale skin. Her hair was still damp, hanging loose around her shoulders. There

ooked strong. She nodde

ed in the pocket

t message from Julian, the exec

arp tomorrow. Be ready.

the word pops. She

O

nt to her settings, scrolled down to the privacy section

and shoved the phone

ed a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, twisted the cap off, and too

HappilyNeverAfter hashtag was filling up with angry po

"She knows we are going to tear

he did not feel a single spike of anxiety. She felt complet

le down and walked tow

a closed door. It was the guest suite. It

She stared at the d

hundred pages of legal jargon that boiled down to

triggered by his family's trust fund requirements. They had

houlders moved smoothly

nging fool the script wanted her to be, the ice ki

door and pushed open the

empty bed. She reached over an

ide the window, the lights of Los A

used on the steady rhythm of her

d sleep. Tomorrow, the entire world was go

g to give them t