Married To A Billionaire's Deception

usband's dream. I poured my inheritance into his "d

usband, Jordan, is a billionaire heir, and our

him. When I got home, our five-year-ol

he said flatly. "Daddy says

s his and Isabell's child, and I was just a "socialization c

t about my fat

g the immutable record of every hour I worked and every dollar I

pte

Ware

my husband, Jordan Fernandez, is the sole heir to a multi-billion-dollar real estate empire, and

rial-strength coffee and the faint scent of turpentine from my late-night graphic design gigs. My days were a blur of freelance projects, followed by an evening shift waiting tables at a diner where the regula

r him. For Jorda

and business debt that crushed him, my heart ached for him. "We' ll get through this, Jorda

ereal, who patched the holes in our son Leo' s jeans instead of buying new ones. I was the one who sold my own car,

g freelance gigs I took on in the dead of night. My portfolio was stale, my dreams wer

a little longer, Diana. I promise, I' ll make it all up to you," the exhaustion would melt away, replaced by a fierce, protectiv

baby! We' re finally in the clear!" he' d shouted, his laughter echoing in our small living room. He said

ent. We made plans. A small house with a backyard for Leo. A vacation, our first ever. Maybe I could finally quit

e I usually drank. I was sketching a new design in my notebook, feeling a spark of creativity I

nel was on. And ther

y messy look I was used to. He was standing on a stage, a confident, almost arrogant smile on his face that I had never seen before. Beside him, a stunning

y brain: "BILLIONAIRE HEIR JORDAN FERNANDEZ CONQUERS THE UL

e world around me seemed to recede, the cheerful chatter of the café fading into a d

ed by the board to prove his business acumen... living on a simulated low income... a test

The coffee in my st

s. The walk home was a blur. My key fumbled in the lock,

worn-out wooden blocks. He was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the packaging of a brand-ne

u get that?" I asked, my

ing eyes. Instead, his gaze was cool, appraising. It

aid the test is over," he sai

eized. "T

es holding a coldness that shattered

g to process his words. "What... w

ted, his voice like a recording. "He says you' re o

e fevers I had nursed, whose scraped knees I had kissed, were more brutal than

stumbling towards him. "We had to save money.

terrifying mirror of the man on the television. "Daddy says real partners support dreams, not

e was like poiso

ipped meals to make sure he and Jordan had enough. The crushing guilt I felt every time Leo asked for a toy I couldn' t afford. Al

saw the receipt. It cost five hundred dollars. I could ha

See? You' re doing it again. You

hand hitting the wall to steady myself.

magazine with Jordan' s face o

divorce

ut to me for fifty thousand

bold and flamboyant. It was the signature of a winner, a conque

was him. I answere

om last night was gone, as if it had never existed.

The word was a raw

enge.' A five-year project to prove to my family' s board that I had the determinat

ung in the air, thi

debt?" I asked,

t. I just had to prove I could not only manage it, but grow it while living a 'struggling' lifestyle. You

ather' s inheritance. I wasn'

spat, the rage finally c

re than generous for five years of... role-playing. Be smart. Sign the p

orld crumbled into dust

to a clinical, detached tone. "This is probably for the best, b

reasons I couldn' t be in the delivery room, the documents I s

his 'socialization caregiver.' Part of the experiment was to see if a non-biological maternal figure, under financial duress, could provid

o draw breath. The little boy in the living room, the one whose first

lize the transition," Jordan said briskly. "

ne wen

still pressed to my ear,

just a f

t even a