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CHAPTER 11
publish date:
2026-07-03 06:12:09
Latest chapter
married for show Chapter 32: The Lioness of Manhattan
The walk-in closet in the penthouse was a sprawling, marble-floored cavern, and though I had spent weeks navigating its glass-encased shelves, tonight it felt entirely foreign. The sheer abundance of designer velvet, wool, and diamonds felt less like a luxury and more like a row of uniforms for a war I hadn’t fully prepared to fight. I stood in the center of the room, clad only in a lace slip, my ginger hair already pinned up into a sleek, sophisticated twist that left the long line of my neck completely bare. My green eyes scanned the racks, completely paralyzed. Saturday night. Dinner at the Ray estate. Facing Eleanor Ray. A soft rustle of fabric cut through my panic. I turned to see Alexander leaning against the dark mahogany archway of the closet. He looked utterly devastating, dropping his usual dark colors for a sharp, midnight-navy bespoke tuxedo. The deep blue of the wool caught the light, making his eyes look piercingly bright, almost electric. The crisp white shirt ben
married for show Chapter 31: Blue, Green, and Emerald
Ruby’s POV Thursday morning arrived without the typical screaming headlines or frantic calls from the Ray family legal team. In fact, the penthouse was eerily, beautifully quiet. I walked into the kitchen, stretching my arms over my head, my loose ginger curls tumbling over the shoulders of an oversized gray silk button-down. I expected the usual sight: Alexander buried in three different laptops, his blonde hair slicked back, looking like a corporate machine. Instead, he was leaning against the marble island, casually scrolling through his phone. He had dropped the stiff billionaire uniform completely. He wore a heavy, charcoal-grey cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, exposing the sharp lines of his wrists, paired with dark, relaxed jeans. When he heard my bare feet against the heated floor, his blue eyes flicked up. A slow, incredibly handsome smirk spread across his face, his gaze tracking me with an intensity that made my skin tingle. "Morning,
married for show Chapter 30: The Architecture of Us
Ruby’s POV The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the penthouse, casting long, pale shadows across the marble kitchen island. I sat on a high stool, nursing a cup of black coffee, completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding on my tablet screen. Every major high-society blog in New York had screenshots of Victoria’s scandalous masterpiece side-by-side with my icy, emerald-dressed gallery smile. The headlines were spectacular. Alexander burst into the room like a localized hurricane, his blonde hair slightly messy, his blue eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep. He had his phone pinned to his ear, his voice a low, furious hiss. "...I don't care what the PR firm says, kill the story. Throw money at Page Six. Do your job." He slammed the phone down on the counter, running a hand through his hair as he looked at me. "The crisis team is downstairs, Ruby. They’re setting up a press release. We need to handle this statement together, right now, before—" "Cancel it,"
married for show Chapter 29: The Masterpiece
Ruby’s POV The atmosphere inside the Fifth Avenue art gallery was choked with the scent of expensive champagne, heavy lilies, and the suffocating pretense of Manhattan’s elite. The gallery itself was a monument to old money structural design—soaring twenty-foot ceilings, polished white concrete floors that reflected the low, moody lighting, and towering glass panels looking out over a rainy Manhattan skyline. Hundreds of New York’s top collectors, investors, and high-society bloggers drifted through the space, their diamonds catching the sharp track lighting above. Alexander and I stood near the center sculpture, the absolute epitome of a united front. He looked breathtakingly sharp in a bespoke black Tom Ford tuxedo that contrasted vividly with his striking blue eyes and perfectly styled blonde hair. His large hand rested firmly on the small of my back, casting a protective, heavy warmth through the silk of my gown. I had gone for pure, high-fashion defiance tonight: an eme
married for show Chapter 28: Traces
Mia Bells’ POV The humidity of the New York midnight clung to the tinted windows of the Maybach parked in the shadow of an industrial pier on the Hudson River. Inside, the only light came from the dim glow of the dashboard. Mia Bells sat perfectly straight, her sharp chin tilted up, her tailored cream silk coat draped over her shoulders. At fifty-four, she had spent decades navigating the volatile currents of Manhattan’s elite. She knew exactly what it took to keep an empire standing, and more importantly, what it took to keep it from burning down. The rear door clicked open, bringing in a rush of cold river air. A middle-aged man in a wrinkled dark suit slipped inside, breathing heavily. He looked frantic, his eyes darting to the front where Mia’s driver sat, unmoving as a statue. "Do you have it?" Mia’s voice was smooth, devoid of any warmth, slicing through the quiet car. The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a thick, legal-sized manila envelope, his hands trem
married for show Chapter 27: The Chicago Phantom
Ruby’s POV The air inside the abandoned warehouse district on the outskirts of Chicago smelled of rust, old rain, and impending victory. Chloe had selected the location—a sterile, concrete loft space currently under development by a Bells subsidiary. It was completely private, entirely secure, and far away from the prying eyes of the Magnificent Mile. Outside, the cold Midwestern wind howled against the reinforced glass windows, but inside, the tension was thick enough to suffocate. I paced the length of the concrete floor, the heavy soles of my designer leather boots echoing sharply against the space. I had traded my regal Manhattan silks for a sharp, tailored black trench coat, my ginger curls pulled back into a sleek, severe ponytail. Behind me, Chloe sat at a temporary metal desk, her fingers flying across the keys of her encrypted laptop, her icy blue eyes scanning lines of digital data. Allie Grace stood near the reinforced door, a half-eaten bag of artisanal chips in on
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