Marrying My Ex 13

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< Marrying My Exs Powerful Billionaire Uncle (3 +120 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 that had always made Connor feel at home,
powerful.

Tonight, it was suffocating him

He sat hunched in a dark corner booth, his third glass of whiskey
sweating in hishand. The humiliationof Harding's phonecall burnedin his
gut, a fire that not even the strongest liquor could quench He was trying
to disappear into the shadows, butin a place like this, a fallen princewas
the most entertaining spectacle of all.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Connor'shead 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."
Connorsiammed 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 1o your
uncle? Because Page Six seems to think it's 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 stepping 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.
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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 gripped the 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, grabbingBryce 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 keep my grandfather happy! To stabilize the stock! She's playing a
part!"

Kip calmly reached over and pried Connor's fingers off Bryces shirt. He
pushed Connor back into his seat, his playful expression hardening into
something more serious. "Easy there, Snow,” Kip said, his voice dropping
but a 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 sping but his pride was a fortress

"| 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."

Connor burst out laughing a harsh, broken sound that drew stares from
the surroundingtables. ‘That's the most ridiculous thingl'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 him?" 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
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screeching backward. He swept his arm across the 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 turned 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
to 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 deposited 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 sorry, 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 replaced 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.

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