and activated the speakerphone
The serene momingwas instantly shattered
'ANISSA! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? WHAT KIND OF SICK GAME ARE 'YOUPLAYING? YOUGET YOURASS DOWN HERE AND YOUCOME HOME, RIGHT NOW!"
Connor's voice, raw and hysterical, blasted from the small device, echoingoff the marble and glass
Anissa didn't respond. She simply looked at Harding her expression a perfect mask of indifference The man on the phone was a stranger screaming into the void.
Her silence seemed to unnerve Connor. His tone shifted, softening slightly, but the arrogance was stil there, thick and suffocating.
“Look, | know you're angry," he said, his voice strained with forced patience. I get t. But this has gonefar enough | can forgive you for this... this stunt"
Anissa finally picked up her fork again. "You're mistaken, Connor” she said, hervoice as cool and smooth as the polishedmarble. Tmnot angry.” “Then what is it? Money?" he shot back, his voice risingagain. Is that it? You want more? | told Felicity Id buy you the Fifth Avenue place. Is that not enough?"
A small, humorless laugh es caped her lips. The sound was like ice scraping against glass, and ít seemed to physically wound him through the phone
“I don't need your apartment, Connor” she said, takinganother deliberate bite of her breakfast. | already own the building"
A choked, strangled sound came from the other end. "That's bullshit! That's my grandfather's! Its all a show, a lie you cooked up with him to punishme! You are my fiancée, Anissal You belong to met”
His possessive rage was a familiar poison But before she could deliver the final, cutting blow, a large, warm hand covered hers, gently takingthe phone
Harding lifted it to his mouth, His voice was low, a de ep rumble that carried an absolute, lethal authority.
"Mr. Snow," he said, the honorific drippingwith contempt. ‘| believe you need to adjust your vocabulary.”
The line went dead silent. The only soundwas Connorsragged, panicked breathing He recognized his uncle's voice.
“She is my wife now," Harding continued, his tone dropping even lower, each word a hammer blow, "Your aunt. Your superior. If you harass her again, you wil face consequencesbeyond your limited imagination” Connor, in a last, desperate gasp of defiance, managed to stammer, “Uncle... don't let her fool you. She's a manipulative bitch just trying to climb the ladder * Harding's response was a short, cold laugh, He ended the call He handed the phoneto Eleanor. ‘Have this numberpermanently blocked from all Snow networks. And dispose of this device. We'll get Mrs. Snow. anewone” Anissa watched him a strange, unfamiliar feeling blooming in her chest. It felt like safety. But it was tangled with the cold reality of their contract. This was a businesstransaction. He was protecting an asset “Was that necessary?” she asked, her voice soft. ‘He is your n ephew” Harding walked around the table until he stood behind her chair, He. placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch firm and grounding The warmth se eped throughthe thin cashmere of her sweater “When ít comes to protecting you." he said, his voice a low murmur just for her, ‘there is no such thingas too much." As if on cue his executive assistant entered the diningroom, holding a freshly printed document He placed it on the table in front of Anissa. “Madam, the assistant said with a respectful bow. “A draft of the restraining order against Mr. Connor Snow. It has been pr epared by our legal team. Should he attempt to contact or approach you again, he will face immediate federal charges."s Anissa looked down at the crisp, legal paper. Her name and Connor's s eparated bya wall of unforgivinglegal text. She ran her fingeralong the edge of the paper, feeling the sharp finality of it. This was the power Harding wielded. Effortless Absolute. She took a de ep breath. She picked up the pen offered by the assistant and signed her name at the bottom, the ink a dark, definitive slash. A final severing of a tie that had once been a noose around her neck. Miles away, in the cold, sterile lobby of the Snow Industries tower, Connor stared at his phone the disconnected call screen mocking him. A guttural scream of pure, impotent fury ripped from his lungs. He threw the phoneagainst the marble floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. He had lost her. And now, the law was coming for him
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< Marrying Mỹ Exs Powerful Billionaire Uncle #* +12 g Points at most The air in the exclusive Manhattan club was thick with the smell of old money-a heady mix of Cuban cigar smoke, aged leather, and expensive bourbon It was a scent thai had always made Connor feel at home, powerful.
Tonight it was suffocating him
He sat hunched in a dark comer booth, his third glass of whiskey sweatingin hishand, The humiliationof Harding's phonecall bumedinhis gut, a fire that not even the strongest liquor could quench He was trying to disappearinto the shadows, butin a place like this, a fallen princewas the most entertaining spectacie of all
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in”
'Connorshead snapped up. Kip Wexler, his oldest friend and biggestrival, slid into the booth opposite him Two other guys from their circle followed, their faces plastered with predatory, gossipinggrins.
"Heard you got kicked out of your own wedding Snow," Kip drawled, signalingthe waiter for a round “And your own apartment. Tough day." Connor slammed his glass down on the table, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim "Shut your mouth, Wexler," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. It's a family matter. A temporary strategy."
Another friend, a smirkinghedge fund analyst named Bryce, pulled out his phone Is it also a ‘temporary strategy’ to give your fiancée to your uncle? Because Page Six seems to think its a permanent transfer of assets.”
Kip let out a low whistle, sliding his own phone from his pocket. He swiped the screen a few times, his smirk widening then turned it toward Connor. ‘Doesn't look like a hostage situation to me," Kip muttered, his voice laced with a morbid fascination. "He looks... smitten.”
On the screen was a paparazzi shot from an entertainment feed. Anissa and Harding. They were st epping out of a Michelin starred restaurant, surrounded by a storm of camera flashes. Anissa was wearing a stunning backless black dress that Connorhad never seen before. She. ‘was laughing her head tilted back, a genuine radiant smile on her face.
A gust of wind blew a strand of hair across her face. Harding with a natural, possessive intimacy, reached out and gently tucked it behindher. ear. He adjusted the collar of her coat, his hand lingeringfor a moment on her shoulder.
Connorstared, hisknuckleswhite as he grippedthe edge of the table. His breath hitched in his chest. The casual tenderness of that gesture was. more devastating than a punch
Rage, white-hot and blinding surged through Connor. He lunged across the table, grabbing Bryce by the collar of his thousand-dollar shirt
“It's not real!" he roared, his face inches from Bryce's. "Anissa is with him to ke ep my grandfather happy! To stabilize the stock! She's playing a part!”
Kip calmly reached over and pried Connors fingers off Bryce shirt He pushed Connor back into his seat, his playful expression hardening into ‘something more serious. ‘Easy there, Snow." Kip said, his voice dropping buta glint of amusement danced inhiseyes. ‘Don't shoot the messenger. Bryce is just showingyou the headlines. Unless you think the entire Wall Street Journal is in on this ‘strategy’ with you? You must be more important than we thought*
A cold dread trickled down Connor's spine but his pride was a fortress.
"I know exactly what's happening Anissa is throwing a tantrum, and my family is overreacting.”
Kip sighed shakinghis head. "No. The word on the street is different, The word is, she chose him Willingly."
Connorburst out laughing a harsh, broken sound that drew stares from the surroundingtables. ‘That's the most ridiculous thing!'ve ever heard.
She's obsessed with me. She loves me. She would never, ever choose that old man over me."
“Then why did she walk down the aisle with hin?" Kip pressed, his eyes sharp. If she was being forced, why didn't she scream? Why didn't she run? | saw the video, man. She looked at him not you."
The question was a needle, piercingthe thick hide of Connor's denial. He remembered the live feed he'd watched in the hospital, the way Anissa had turned her back on the empty altar and walked toward the corridor. The coldness in her posture.
He shoved the memory down. 'She was hurt. She was trying to make me Jealous. It's a game."
Something inside Connor snapped. He shot to his feet, his chair 330% 1206 N81
Seidl £5 +120 Points at most screeching backward. He sw ept his arm across tne table, sending glasses crashing to the floor in a symphony of shattering crystal and spilled liquor.
“He's a liar!" Connor screamed, pointinga shaking finger at Kips phone “And she’s a goddamn traitor! A whore!”
The club went silent. Every eye tumed to their corner. Public meltdowns were not part of the decorum
The club manager, a tall man with an impeccably calm demeanor, appeared at his side, flanked by two large security guards.
“Mr. Snow,” the manager said, his voice polite but firm. I'm goingto have. 10 ask you to leave. You are disturbingour members,"
“Don't you touch me!” Connorraged as the guards took his arms. ‘That's my woman! That's my life”
They dragged him strugglingand cursing throughthe hushed judgmental crowd and out the heavy oak doors. They d eposited him unceremoniously on the cold, unforgiving pavement of the Upper East Side.
He fell to his knees, his expensive suit now wrinkled and stained. The city’s glittering indifferent traffic flowed past him He was an outcast He fumbled for his backup phone his hands trembling. He had to call his. grandfather. He had to demand an explanation for this nightmare.
The call went straight to Aurthur’s assistant
“I'm sony, Mr. Snow,” the secretary's voice said, cool and distant. "Mr. Aurthur Snow Is currently hosting a private dinner at the estate to ‘welcome the new Mrs. Snow to the family. He is unavailable.”
The new Mrs. Snow.
The words were bullets, riddling the last vestiges of his denial. It was real. She had r eplaced him
A terrifying wild light ignitedin his eyes. He scrambled to his feet. If they ‘wouldn't tell him the truth, he would find it himself. He would find the. proof that this was all a lie. He would expose her. He would expose them all
Marrying My Exs Powerful Bilonare Uncle. #* +120 Points at most The hotel suite was a gilded cage, anonymous and expensive smelling of stale air and desperation. Empty bourbon bottles littered the floor like fallen soldiers.
Connorsat on the edge of the unmade bed, his backup phoneclutched in his hand. The screen's harsh blue light illuminated his haggard face. He was a man possessed, scrolling relentlessly through Twitter, Reddit, any dark corner of the internet where a conspiracy theory might be brewing He was huntingfor a single dissentingvoice, one comment that agreed with him that the marriage was a sham.
He found nothing but fawning articles about the Snow family’s brillant power move, endless praise for the new, mysterious Mrs. Snow.
With a frustrated growl, he switched to a news app. And then he saw it. A breakingnews alert from Page Six flashed on his screen. An exclusive leak, posted just an hour ago.
Connor'sbreath caught in histhroat. His thumb froze on the screen.
It was a marriage certificate. Officially issued by a New York State Supreme Court Justice. The date was yesterday's, The names, printedin crisp, black ink were Harding Snow and Anissa Roy. Their signatures, bold and final, were scrawled at the bottom
His world narrowed to that single. damning piece of paper. His hand started to shake so violently the phonealmost slipped from his grasp. He zoomed in his eyes scanning for any flaw, any sign of digital manipulation. The judge's seal looked terrlfyingly authentic.
"No," he whispered his voice a dry rasp. ‘Its photoshopped It has to be. That judge.. he's on my grandfather's payroll."
He immediately called his personal lawyer, a man he k ept for DUIs and contract disputes.
“I'm sendingyoua picture” Connorsaid, his voice tight and urgent ‘I need you to verify ít. Now. Find out if its real.
The ten minutes he waited were the longest of his life. He paced the ‘small room, his heart poundinga frantic, panicked hythm
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NH7 £5 +120 Points at most The phonerang. He snatched it up. "Well?"
His lawyer's voice was heavy, funereal. It's real, Connor The certificate was filed this morning It's ironclad. Legally, she is his wife. My advice? Let it go. You'epokinga bear you can't afford to fight
Connorhungup, the lawyer's words echoingin the silent room.
But his mind, a comered animal, refused to acc ept defeat. It created a new narrative, a new delusion to clingto.
Anissa had something on Harding.
Of course. That was it. She was blackmailing him. She had to be. He frantically searched hismemory, trying to recall anythingshe might have overheard, any secret she might possess.
And then it hit him The trust fund. A few months ago, drunk on 'champagneand his own arrogance, he had braggedto her about a secret vulnerabilty in the family trust's bylaws, a loophole that could be exploited duringa succession crisis. He had been trying to impress her with his insiderknowledge.
A wild, feverish excitement seized him He shot to his feet, a triumphant, manic grin spreadingacross his face.
“Youclever, clever bitch” he said to the empty room.
She had used his own secret against his family. She had forced Harding into this sham marriage to gain power and get her revenge on him.
The thought was strangely comforting. It meant she didn't love Harding. It meant her actions were still, in a twisted way, all about him Her hate was Just the other side of the coin of her love
He had to see her, He had to confront her, tell her he knew her game. He 'would tell her he'd give her anything she wanted-the money, the status, the revenge: she would just come back to him.
He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the hotel, hailing the first cab he saw.
“Blllionalre s Row," he barked at the driver.
But whenhe arrived at the gleaming tower where Harding lived, the entire building was on lockdown. The lobby, usually open and airy, was now patrolled by a dozen men inblack suits with earpieces. They were not the building susual security. They were Harding's private army.
Alex Stone st epped out to meet himon the sidewalk, his expression even colder than before.