Page 149 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

This was always the plan. I give her the financial freedom to pursue her art without interference. She gives me temporary stability to secure my company.

Clean break after six months.

No messy emotions.

Except somewhere along the way I fucked up the last part spectacularly.

I make it three steps away before Jonas calls.

“We found the leak,” he says without preamble. “Margaret Chen has been feeding information to Blackwell for months.”

“Margaret Chen?” I can’t believe my ears. “She voted to dismiss Blackwell’s deadlock provision motion as without merit.”

“I know,” Jonas says. “Part of their plan, I suppose. To throw us off her trail.”

I shake my head. “So she was the second mole all this time.” Betrayed by someone I trusted once again. “How the hell did she find out about the arrangement?”

“Apparently she blackmailed one of the partners at Hoffman, Weiss & Partners,” Jonas replies. “With security footage showing desk sex with a new secretary.”

I shake my head. The depths some people will stoop to control others. “Get in touch with the DA immediately. Extortion is a criminal offense in New York. And file our own lawsuits against his company. We’ll see how much Blackwell likes getting assaulted on two fronts. Any news on his trust challenge?”

“Our lawyers think it’s weak given your united front with Ava, and the extortion revelation will actually work in our favor,” Jonas explains. “It gives us grounds to challenge the credibility of any documents the partner may have provided under duress. A person being blackmailed can’t be considered a reliable source of legitimate information.” He pauses thoughtfully. “The publicity is still concerning, but we can manage investor relations. I’ll handle it.” His voice drops slightly. “You know, in two weeks when the divorce is finalized, we’ll be scott free. Two weeks. The Spousal Asset Protection Trust will have served its purpose by then. The deadlock provision will be permanently neutralized, and your voting control secure.”

“And Blackwell?”

“He might try to challenge things retroactively, but our lawyers say the trust arrangement remains valid even after divorce. That’s the beauty of how we structured it. Once the assets are protected through a trust during a valid marriage, theystayprotected.”

“Excellent news.” I end the call coldly and lean against the hallway wall, suddenly exhausted. I pivot toward her door.

What does any of this matter anyway? Two weeks... and then our arrangement ends. Ava gets her gallery and her freedom. I get... what exactly? A company secured at the expense of the only real thingin my life?

The brutal truth hits me like a physical blow. I don’t want this to end.

But I want her happiness more.

And that’s why I turn away from her door. Because even if by some miracle she felt something real for me, too, what could I offer her beyond a life of corporate battles and public scrutiny? A man whose emotional damage runs bone-deep?

She deserves better than my complicated life and emotional limitations. Better than me.

So I walk back to my empty bed, to the sheets that still smell faintly of her, and prepare for another sleepless night of staring at the ceiling.

Protecting her reputation. Planning our separation. Pretending I’m not falling apart at the thought of a future without her.

49

Ava

I’ve been packing for three hours. Even though it’s not move out day, I’ve always been the type to prepare early. Admittedly, this is extra early, even for me, but the packing helps distract me.

I pack yet another paintbrush. I’m starting to think my brushes are reproducing when I’m not looking. There’s no way I came here with this many.

At this rate I’ll need a U-Haul just for art supplies. So much for traveling light.

I wrap another set of brushes in cloth, tucking them into a box labeled “STUDIO” in my messy scrawl.

The penthouse is quiet this morning. Gideon left early for some crisis meeting about Blackwell’s latest attack. The media storm around our “arrangement” has mostly died down after our united front performance, but the legal battle is just ramping up.

Less than two more weeks and this will all be someone else’s problem. Two weeks until I’m just Ava Redwood again. Just boring old me with paint-stained fingernails.

---