The marriage will be legal. You’ll live as Aurelia Bowmont for 6 months. After the merger is secured, you can divorce quietly.
I’ll pay you $500,000. Allesia’s brain shortcircuited. That’s insane. That’s fraud. That’s That’s your only path out of poverty.
Margarite cut her off sharply. Don’t pretend you’re in a position to refuse, Allesia. You’re an orphan with no family, no education beyond high school, no prospects.
You live in a studio apartment that I know for a fact has mold in the bathroom and a landlord who’s 2 months away from evicting you.
Allesia’s face burned with humiliation. How do you I know everything about the people who work in my home, including the fact that you’ve been seeing Dante Rivera, a charming waistl who’s been systematically draining your bank account.
Allesia’s hands clenched in her lap. Dante loves me. Dante loves your money. What little you have.
Margarite leaned forward. This is a chance to change your entire life. $500,000. Allesia. You could go anywhere, do anything.
You’d never have to scrub another floor or worry about making rent. But it’s illegal.
Only if someone finds out and no one will. Luther Castellon is a businessman who agreed to this marriage purely for the merger.
It’s a transaction to him, nothing more. He won’t look closely enough to notice the difference.
What if he does? He won’t. Men like Luther don’t pay attention to details like that.
He’ll barely glance at you. Margarite sipped her brandy. You’ll live in his mansion. Play the role of the beautiful wife at social functions and otherwise keep to yourself.
In six months, you’ll be rich and free. Allesia’s mind was spinning. Half a million dollars.
A chance to stop struggling, stop worrying, not stop feeling like she was one bad day away from being homeless.
But it was wrong. It was illegal. It was, “I need an answer by tomorrow.”
Margarite said, “After that, the offer expires.” And Allesia, “If you breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, I’ll destroy you.
I’ll make sure you never work in this city again. I’ll make sure every door closes in your face.
Do you understand?” Allessia nodded, her throat tight. She left Margarit’s office in a days.
That night, Alysia sat in her tiny, moldy studio apartment, staring at her bank account.
$247.83. That was all she had in the world. Her phone buzzed. A text from Dante.
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