Chapter 3

Jeremy's POV

That night, Madeleine knocked on my hotel room door.

She got straight to the point. "Rick and I… It's an arranged marriage between our families. In families like ours, a lot of things are beyond our control."

Instead of responding to that, I asked, "When did I sign that NDA?"

Her eyes darted away from mine. "Three years ago."

My mind went blank. That had been the year I'd worked harder than ever, obsessively saving every penny. At one point, I'd pulled an entire week of all-nighters and nearly collapsed at a bus stop.

When Madeleine called, she noticed something was wrong with my voice. She rushed over that very same night to see me, bringing a stack of documents with her.

"It's an NDA for a new project at my company. It needs a family member to sign as a guarantor," she said.

I blinked at her. "But we're not married yet."

She looked at me and said with absolute certainty, "Isn't it just a matter of time anyway?"

Overjoyed, I'd signed my name without a second thought. But while I assumed that she'd finally included me in her future, she was already planning to marry another man.

A flash of reluctance and pity crossed Madeleine's eyes. "As long as you behave yourself, you can still stay by my side. I won't mistreat you. You can pick any house you want, and I'll give you 100,000 dollars every month."

I looked at her in disbelief. "You want me to be your…"

I couldn't even bring myself to say the word. Madeleine, however, clearly didn't see anything wrong with it.

"Haven't you always said your job is exhausting? Staying by my side will be a lot easier than—"

Before she could finish, my eyes filled with tears, and I gave her a hard shove. She knew full well that my own mother had fallen into severe depression precisely because she'd been forced to become another man's mistress.

Madeleine knew that was the one thing I loathed above all else, yet she acted as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

Her expression darkened, but when she saw the tears in my eyes, her voice softened.

"Jer, think it through. Look at the life your mom had to live all those years. Do you really want to end up living the same life? At least I won't abandon you like your dad did your mom."

Not wanting to hear more, I threw her out of my room.

…

The next morning, however, Mom's phone call arrived.

"How could you do something like this?" she roared, absolutely furious. "How did I end up with a son like you?"

Only then did I discover that someone had secretly photographed Madeleine coming to my hotel room, written an article about it, and posted it all over social media.

The headline read, "Wealthy CEO Caught Keeping a Lover Fresh Off Her Wedding".

The comments were filled with insults and accusations. Someone had even dug up my phone number and Social Security number, and an avalanche of abuse came crashing down on me.

Mom continued yelling through the phone, "Jer, how did you turn into this kind of person? You clearly know the thing I hate most in the world is a homewrecker!"

"Mom," I desperately tried to explain. "I didn't—"

"You're still lying!" she snapped, her voice turning shrill. "If there's nothing going on between you and Madeleine Petty, why would she have gone to your hotel room?"

I had no way to explain that. My only option was to post evidence online proving that I wasn't a homewrecker.

For a moment, public opinion became divided, but just as quickly, my post was reported and taken down.

Not long after, Richard, with Madeleine in tow, came to see me.

"Let's talk, Jeremy."