The Billionaire's Good girl. Not.

The judge, well over fifty years of age with a little silver stubble and moustache, barely glanced at us. He looked utterly bored, like marriages were no more significant than land transfers. He scribbled something on the marrage slip and showed us where we were each supposed to sign. Maverick took the pen from him and signed quickly, his signature as bold and sharp, as though he didn't want this too. If he didn't want this why was he even getting involved in the first place? What does Father have over him to make his hands tied? He's the Maverick Shelby, it's almost impossible for him to be trapped, so what kind of business deal did he have with Dad? After signing, Maverick handed me the pen to sign too. My hand trembled slightly as I took it from him. I took hold of the slip too and my hand hovered over where my signature should have been. It was not too late. I could ditch this marriage here and be done with it. Am I really going to do this? "You're doing this for your family"

I woke up this morning to Lisa's voice."Oh! You're here. I was wondering where you were" she said with smile on her lips. I sat up and pulled my duvet down to my waist."What are you doing here? You never come to visit." I said"Oh well! I had a good time last night, I don't know about you" she said with a sly smile. What does she mean by that?"I don't know what you mean by that" I said, narrowing my eye a litlle bit."Maverick or should I say my meant-to-be-husband who is now yours, is really good with his tongue. Has he used it on you before?"No.He. didn't.I felt the colour drain from my face. Her smile grew sly."And his fingers? Girl! you have to experience it. I mean you have had sex with him right?"What did I ever do to desrve this sort of treatment from him?"I wasn't aware you were interested in him" I managed to squeeze out, my voice tight."Who wouldn't be? I just wanted a night with him, not to be married and be locked away in more than...I don't know, the number of r

The night pressed in on the Shelby manor like a suffocating blanket, the kind of silence that made even the air feel heavy. I sat at the edge of the bed, my pulse thundering in my ears, my suitcase—half-packed, half-hidden—tucked in the shadowy corner of the room.Five years.Five years of watching myself fade from the vibrant, laughing girl I once was into the ghost Maverick and my parents molded. Five years of silence, humiliation, and stolen sparks of dignity.Tomorrow, I will be free.I rose, my bare feet cold against the marble floor. Every step toward Maverick’s office felt like stepping deeper into a forbidden labyrinth. My hand trembled on the polished brass door handle, the smell of leather and ink bleeding into my memory the instant I pushed the door open. His office always smelled like him—cold, precise, intimidating.The desk loomed before me, glass reflecting the faint silver glow of the moon pouring through the window. I slid Arthur Wells’ carefully drafted divorce docum

I totally ignored him and walked away as if I didn’t hear him as I walked into the main hall that the gala was going on in. The gala lights shimmered like trapped stars as I slipped into the seat reserved for me, trying my best to forget about my encounter with Maverick. The emerald silk of my gown whispered over my legs as I settled, the room a blur of flashing cameras and glittering faces. My pulse didn’t rise; I was practiced at hiding, at letting the world see only what I allowed.A waiter appeared beside me, silent and precise. He laid a folded note on the table, eyes fixed straight ahead, and disappeared without a word.I tore it open."I know it’s you, Camilla, but I thought you were dead? Would you be so kind as to grant me an audience?"Maverick.A shiver ran down my spine, but I crushed it beneath the armor of Carla. I ripped the note into pieces, letting them fall into the champagne glass before me. I pressed the folds beneath the rim and waved a waiter over to take it away

I woke to the faint hum of the city seeping through my bedroom window, sunlight spilling across the polished floor and catching on the edge of my sketchpad. My eyes fluttered open, but I didn’t move. I lay there, letting the sounds filter in, hoping—foolishly—that I could pull myself together before my mind wandered.Toward the person I never wanted to think about.Maverick.His words from yesterday clung to me like smoke that refused to lift, whispering through the silence of my bedroom: "You always loved painting, even though you were horrible at it."My stomach twisted. Cameras. He had hidden cameras, and I hadn’t even noticed. Bro was getting stalker on me.And then… the most mortifying words I’d ever heard in my life: "The little moans you let out when you played with yourself… I heard them. Even when you moan my name, I heard all of it."Heat rushed to my cheeks even as I buried my face in the pillow. God, why did he have to say that? Why did my chest tighten, why did my pul