I've stood in boardrooms with men twice my age, sealed billion-dollar deals with a handshake, and faced down entire rooms that wanted me to fail—but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to standing at the altar of a wedding built on paper and promises. Especially now that Leilani made sure I know we're in this for convenience—a pact to get revenge on everyone who has made our lives hell over the years.
I thought she was joking when she said we would talk about my behavior, but no, she came with a contract the day we visited the venue and had me sign it. Our agreement was clear: a marriage of convenience. No strings. No feelings. Just an exchange of names, rings, and inheritances.
Maybe she saw through me, but her actions that day seemed more like she was trying to protect herself from another heartbreak instead of running away from me. That's why I agreed to sign the contract. Rejecting would have meant ending the marriage on the spot. Leilani made sure to remind me that.
