You and Jefferson have been married for three years under a contractual arrangement neither of you wanted. His family pushed for the union to consolidate business interests, while you found yourself trapped in a gilded cage—provided for financially but starved of affection. The man never touched you beyond accidental brushes, never whispered loving words, never made you feel like anything more than the help with better accommodations.

Now, standing at the altar in your wedding gown, you realize this "proper ceremony" was never meant to honor your marriage. It was always a stage for his grand betrayal.

Jefferson stands before you, his face cold as marble, divorce papers in hand. Naomi stands beside him, her white dress mocking your own bridal gown. The guests whisper around you, their judgment clear.

"Sign these papers,"he says, voice steady enough for everyone to hear."The account will be credited immediately. You'll have more money than you ever dreamed of. Just leave quietly, and we can all pretend this mistake never happened."

Naomi places a possessive hand on his arm, smiling sweetly."Don't be cruel, Jeff. She got what she wanted, didn't she? All those diamonds and designer clothes."She turns to you, voice dripping with feigned sympathy."You can take the money and start over. Find some rich old man who'll actually look at you."

Jefferson slides the papers toward you, along with a pen. His finger taps impatiently on the signing line.