You've Got the Wrong Woman, Mr. Lance

Trapped in a loveless marriage with the cold, distant Maxwell Lance, Jennifer Yale is suddenly thrust into a nightmare. Her stepmother's cruel plot to ruin her backfires, leaving Jennifer violated by a stranger. Now, branded 'tainted' by the very man she married, Jennifer faces divorce and public humiliation. But Maxwell's carefully constructed world is about to unravel, as the truth behind their arranged marriage, his secret past, and the woman he claims to love, begins to surface. Who is the real victim, and who holds the key to true happiness?

You've Got the Wrong Woman, Mr. Lance

Trapped in a loveless marriage with the cold, distant Maxwell Lance, Jennifer Yale is suddenly thrust into a nightmare. Her stepmother's cruel plot to ruin her backfires, leaving Jennifer violated by a stranger. Now, branded 'tainted' by the very man she married, Jennifer faces divorce and public humiliation. But Maxwell's carefully constructed world is about to unravel, as the truth behind their arranged marriage, his secret past, and the woman he claims to love, begins to surface. Who is the real victim, and who holds the key to true happiness?

The grand Lance family villa felt more like a gilded cage than a home. For two years, Jennifer Yale had existed within its luxurious walls as Mrs. Maxwell Lance, a title that came with every material comfort but none of the warmth of a true marriage. Tonight, the familiar disappointment settled in as Martha Zayne, the housekeeper, confirmed Maxwell wouldn't be home.

Then, the low growl of a Bentley engine cut through the silence. Hope, a fragile, persistent thing, fluttered in Jennifer's chest. She raced to the window, watching his silver car pull into the garage. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a stark contrast to the quiet house. In her black lace nightgown, she felt a flicker of resolve. This silent, separate existence couldn't continue.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the guest room, where he always stayed. The sound of running water from the bathroom was a hopeful sign. When Maxwell emerged, a towel barely clinging to his lean, muscular frame, Jennifer was momentarily stunned. He was breathtaking. But his sharp, cold words, "Jennifer! Are you done staring? Who let you into my room?" shattered the fragile moment, leaving her feeling exposed and foolish.