Page 145 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

I text back immediately:I’ll take it. Sending deposit today.

The numbers dance in my head as I calculate what I’ve saved from the initial settlement, what I could get from selling those designer dresses hangingin my closet. It’s enough for a down payment, but I’ll still need the remainder of Gideon’s settlement money to buy it outright. The money I earned by playing happy wife for six months.

I glance at the diamond ring on my finger, catching the light in a way that seems almost mocking now.

That’ll fetch a nice price at the pawn shop. One more thing to check off the post-marriage to-do list.

I spend the afternoon in a daze, moving between rooms with purpose but no real direction. In my separate bedroom, the one I haven’t actually slept in for weeks, I finally start sorting through designer clothes, making a mental list of what might sell for a decent price.

Practical. That’s what I need to be. Practical and prepared.

By four o’clock, I’ve inventoried most of the fancy dresses and even started packing a few personal items in boxes. Not to move out early, just to get organized. The divorce papers said two weeks, but there’s no harm in being ready.

The sound of the elevator announces Gideon’s return from work. Earlier than usual. I look up from the designer dress I’m carefully folding, a Valentino he bought me for some charity gala, feeling caught in the act.

“Ava?” His voice carries from the foyer, steady and controlled. Always so controlled.

“In here,” I call back, trying to match his composure and failing miserably as my voice cracks.

He appears in the doorway of my bedroom, his eyes immediately taking in the partially packed boxes, the pile of dresses on the bed, the general disaster zone that is now my living space. His expressionshifts so subtly that anyone else might miss it, but I’ve spent six months studying the micro-movements of Gideon King’s face. That tiny furrow between his brows means he’s surprised, maybe even upset.

Don’t read into it. He’s probably just worried about the optics if I move out before the contract ends.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

I busy myself with folding another dress, avoiding his eyes. “Just getting organized. Thought it might be easier this way.”

“Easier,” he repeats, not a question.

“For both of us,” I clarify, my cheeks warming under his steady gaze. “The lawyers sent over the divorce papers today.”

He nods once, sharply, like this is just another business meeting. “I know. I authorized them to proceed with the filing.”

Of course he did. Efficient to the end.

“Well, I’ve got news too,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice. “I got the gallery space. The one in Chelsea I told you about.”

Something flickers across his face but it’s gone before I can identify it.

“Congratulations,” he says, and I almost believe his sincerity. “That’s exactly what you wanted.”

“It is,” I agree, though the victory feels hollow standing here among my half-sorted life. “I have some money left over from the first installment of the settlement. Between that and selling some things, I’ve got enough for the deposit. The rest will come from the final payment when...” I trail off, unable to say “when we divorce” out loud.

“You don’t need to sell anything, Ava. The full settlement will be enough.”

I straighten, pride warming my cheeks. “I know. But I want to do as much as I can myself.”

His gaze shifts to the boxes. “You’re not planning to leave before the contract ends, are you?”

“No, of course not,” I say quickly. “I’m just... getting organized. Don’t worry, I’ll stay until the end of the contract. I’m just preparing.”

His shoulders relax slightly, but his expression remains guarded. “Good. Blackwell is still watching. If you suddenly disappeared—”

“I know,” I interrupt, suddenly feeling hollow inside.So I was right. He’s just worried about the optics.

Vanessa’s voice comes back to haunt me.He believes marriage for love is a fairy tale.

“I’m not going anywhere yet. But...” I swallow hard, forcing the words out. “I will be sleeping in here again. Starting tonight.”

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