Barrage Reverses My Marriage

My sister jilted David Hawthorne at the altar. Hes a fake heir, poorer than me, she scoffed. After her call, glowing text appeared:
[Shes a fool. The paternity test was wrongDavid is the real heir!]
[One step from a dynasty, and she threw it away.]
Across the hall, David stood alone. Even in that cheap suit, he carried a powerful aura. I straightened my dress and approached.
My sister isnt coming, I said softly. This is our familys fault. If youll have me Ill marry you instead.
He studied my faceso like my sisters, yet different. That day, as Jessica hunted for a new patron, I signed the papers.
I, Jenna Miller, became Mrs. Hawthorne.
1
Clutching the freshly stamped marriage certificate, my world felt tilted on its axis.
Before today, Id only met David once, during a formal visit to our home. Jessica had forbidden me from speaking to any of her potential suitors, so to him, I was a complete stranger.
Yet here we were, legally bound, about to share a roof. The thought made my heart hammer against my ribs.
We soon arrived at his place, a cramped basement apartment. He ushered me inside, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "I'm going to take a shower. If you're hungry, there's food in the fridge."
I opened the small, humming refrigerator. Inside sat a single, sad-looking container of vegetable stir-fry.
A new line of text floated past my vision:
[He's so pitiful. Kicked out and saddled with a two-million-dollar debt to the Hawthornes for his upbringing. Now all he can afford is the cheapest takeout.]
[He can't stomach this stuff, though. He's barely eaten in two days.]
When David emerged from the bathroom, steam clinging to his broad shoulders, he found two portions of heated food served on chipped plates. I sat with my back to him, quietly eating my share.
The portion was small to begin with; split in two, it was gone in a few bites. But Id deliberately waited until the sound of the shower stopped before I started eating.
On the way here, I'd searched for every article I could find about him. The golden boy of the Hawthorne dynasty, handsome and wealthy, accustomed to a life of luxury. Women of every typesultry, innocent, vibrant, glamoroushad thrown themselves at him.
The reason hed fallen for Jessica? She had supposedly saved a drowning child.
He had a weakness for kindness.
I couldn't stage a similar accident; that would be too obvious. But for a man who had lost everything, a woman who could face hardship with quiet grace, without complaint, was its own form of kindness.
It worked. His voice was husky when he finally spoke. "I thought you'd be disgusted."
I turned and swallowed my last mouthful. "I'm not a picky eater. And I don't eat much anyway." I offered a small smile. "But this takeout can't be healthy. Starting tomorrow, why don't I cook for us?"
I didn't miss the flash of astonishment in his eyes. It was gone in an instant as he turned away to take a call in the corner.
That night, he insisted on sleeping on the floor while I took the bed. I didn't object. I couldn't seem too eager, as if I expected to consummate the marriage on our first night.
In the dead of night, my phone lit up with a text from Jessica.
"Found a new guy. He has some single friends, pick one. We can both be set for life."
Below the message was a collage of five photos featuring men old enough to be our father, each one less appealing than the last.
I replied with a picture of my marriage certificate.
"I'm married."
Her response was instantaneous and explosive. A barrage of calls, all of which I ignored, followed by a furious text.
"Are you insane, Jenna? Picking up my trash is one thing, but him? The fake heir?"
"You'd rather live in poverty than take the easy way out. You deserve to be poor forever!"
In the glow of the screen, I saw another line of text appear.
[You're the fool, Jenna. In forty days, old Mr. Hawthorne is going to bring David home. If you don't secure your place now, you'll lose your ticket to the good life!]
Forty days. That was more than enough time.
On the floor, David shifted. He must have noticed the light from my phone.
"David," I whispered. "Did I wake you?"
"No."
"I heard you on the phone earlier. Was it the Hawthornes, calling about the debt?"
"Yes."
"How much do you have left to pay?"
He was silent for a few seconds before answering, his voice flat. "Five million."
[Why is he lying? It's just over two million.]
As I processed that, Davids voice cut through the darkness, laced with a cynical edge. "What, having second thoughts?"
No. This was exactly what I was waiting for.
I sat up, opened my banking appId added him as a contact earlierand began transferring him money.
Everything from my bank account, my digital wallet, my payment apps, and even the cash in my purse.
It all went to him.
Total: $9,828.43.
His phone buzzed repeatedly. I watched his expression shift from confusion to shock, his breathing growing uneven.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It's everything I have. Use it for the debt."
"I know it's just a drop in the bucket, but my paycheck from my part-time job clears tomorrowthat's another $580. I'll get my security deposit back, too, thats $330. And my salary next week is $4,200. I'll send it all to you the second I get it."
He flicked on the lamp. The dim, yellow light illuminated the sharp, elegant lines of his profile, now trembling slightly.
"I'm asking what you mean by giving me your money."
I met his gaze, my expression utterly serious, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"We're married now. That means we're a team. For better or for worse."
The disbelief on his face was so profound it was almost painful to watch.
My heart began to race again, a frantic, hopeful rhythm.
This was it. The first real step.
Jessica, we'll see who deserves to be poor forever.
2
The next morning, I woke to find him dressing.
The money had been transferred back. The cash was neatly stacked on my pillow.
"Why..."
"If I take it all, what will you live on? Women need thingsclothes, makeup, food..."
I shook my head. "I don't wear makeup. And I work a second job at a produce market after my main one. The owner is kind; he lets me take home the unsold vegetables for free."
"As long as we're not eating steak every night, two people don't cost much to feed."
I lowered my head, pretending to be focused on folding the blanket, but I deliberately let him see the way I bit my lip, the ill-fitting, hand-me-down pajamas that swallowed my frame.
"Besides... Jessica gave me two bags of her old clothes a few days ago. They'll last me a long time."
I saw a flicker of emotion cross his face, a raw pang of pity in his eyes.
After a long moment, he went to the bathroom.
"I'm a man," he said, his voice muffled by the sound of running water. "I can't be supported by my wife. I'll borrow from friends if I have to."
From that day on, our life settled into a quiet, ordinary rhythm. We went our separate ways during the day. In the evening, after my two jobs, I'd come home and cook dinner. We'd eat together, and then he'd sleep on the floor, and I'd sleep on the bed.
At first, our conversations were polite and stilted. Gradually, we started talking about our day, about things we saw outside. We became like friends, helping each other with small tasks without a second thought.
It took one week to go from strangers to comfortable roommates.
A week later, at ten o'clock at night, David came home and stopped dead in the doorway.
A row of hooks now lined the wall by the door. His suit jacket, which he usually draped over a chair, was hanging neatly beside my own coat. The pilled, gray bedding had been replaced with a vibrant, saffron-yellow duvet set. On the kitchen counter, a plate of stir-fried pork and greens was still steaming.
The dim, flickering bulb overhead was gone, replaced by a new one that cast a warm, inviting glow over the entire 300-square-foot apartment.
And in the middle of this transformed home, I was standing on a stool, hanging new curtains.
Hearing the door, I turned and gave him a small smile.
"You're back. Eat while it's hot. The market owner gave me the pork for free." Then I gestured around the room. "And none of this cost much. I found it all at thrift stores."
David's throat worked, his eyes sweeping over every new object in the room. The flood of warm yellow filled his vision, a stark, emotional contrast to the bleakness that had defined this space. His chest rose and fell, and a reddish tint crept into the whites of his eyes.
I seized the moment. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice soft. "I didn't ask you before picking out the color for the curtains and bedding. I just really love this shade, and I ah!"
The stool wobbled with a sharp creak, and I lost my balance, tipping backward.
In a flash, he lunged across the room, catching me securely in his arms just before I hit the floor.
My hands flew to his collar, my fingers gripping the fabric as I steadied myself against him. I looked up, my eyes wide with the adrenaline and relief of a near-disaster.
"Thank you... David."
He let out a breath he'd been holding, but his gaze drifted down from my face, following the loose neckline of my t-shirt.
His throat bobbed again.
"Jenna."
It was the first time he'd said my name. It came out as a raw, husky whisper.
"Can I?"
I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing a deep crimson. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, a silent consent.
"Yes."
I had gambled correctly. He was drawn to the role of a savior, a hero.
That night, David and I transitioned from partners in law to husband and wife in every sense of the word.
My hair was down, the lights were off, and the name he whispered in the dark was mine.
Late in the night, I woke up, sore but content.
My phone screen was lit with a dozen messages from Jessica.
"Why aren't you answering? Jenna, don't tell me you actually slept with that loser."
"Get a grip. Mom and Dad will never approve of this. Get a divorce and come home before you regret it. Any of the guys I showed you are a thousand times better than him."
The last message was a threat.
"Don't be an idiot. If you don't come back, Mom and Dad will hunt you down. Don't expect me to save you then."
David's steady breathing warmed my ear. The single bed was too small for two, forcing us to lie pressed tightly together.
I knew he couldn't have fallen completely in love with me in just one week.
A little push wouldn't hurt.
I texted back: "I'm never coming back. I love him. I don't care what Mom and Dad say. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him."
3
A few days later, I rented a small spot in a bustling market and started a food cart selling grilled cheese sandwiches.
I didn't tell David at first.
I worked my day job as usual, then stood in the biting wind at my cart in the evenings before rushing home to make him dinner. He remained preoccupied with his own affairs, telling me he was looking for a job. The text pop-ups, however, told a different story: he was trying to get a new paternity test done.
[The Hawthornes are already searching for the real heir, but look at him, still fighting. With that kind of determination, no wonder he becomes a tycoon.]
A tycoon, huh?
My hand paused over the griddle, and a small smile touched my lips.
Two weeks later, Jessica sent me a photo of myself working at the cart.
"Found you. You are so screwed."
The time was right.
That night, I came home an hour later than usual, feigning exhaustion and yawning widely as I walked in. Then, I rolled up my sleeves, revealing the angry, chapped skin and chilblains on my hands.
"Sorry I'm late, the convenience store was really busy. I'll start dinner right now."
Behind me, I felt David's gaze fix on my hands. I pretended not to notice, quickly pulling my sleeves back down to hide them.
He was silent for a long time before finally looking away.
The next evening, as I was setting up my cart, Jessica arrived with my parents in tow, their faces stormy.
"There you are! How dare you get married behind our backs!" my father roared.
They kicked over my cart, sending bread, cheese, and toppings scattering across the grimy pavement.
Jessica, wrapped in an expensive fur coat, smirked. "I warned you, Jenna. You didn't listen."
My father stuck out his hand, his expression demanding. "Alright, where's the money he gave you? Hand it over!"
"Dad! David is a fake heir! He owes the Hawthornes millions. What money could he possibly give her?" Jessica scoffed.
I stood my ground, my body trembling but my back straight. "So what if he didn't give me anything? I didn't marry him for his money!"
That sent my parents into a rage. My father's foot shot out, connecting sharply with my stomach.
"You sneak off to marry some penniless loser? We raised you for nothing!" he spat. "Get home! Your sister has found several suitable husbands for you. Marrying any one of them would set us up for years!"
My mother grabbed a fistful of my hair, dragging me toward their car as I cried out.
"Help! Let me go!"
"Just listen to us, sweetie," she cooed, her grip like iron. "We're doing this for your own good. David is a nobody. If you stay with him, you'll..."
"Let her go!"
Just as I was being shoved into the car, a powerful force yanked me back. David pulled me into his arms, his face a mask of fury.
"Kidnapping someone in public? You have some nerve!"
Jessica sneered. "Stop posturing, David. The money's gone. Do you still think you're the Hawthorne prince?" She then turned a condescending gaze on me. "But I guess it fits. My little sister has always worn my hand-me-downs, eaten my leftovers. Now she's even picking up the man I threw away. You two are a perfect match."
I felt his body go rigid. The shock must have hit him like a physical blow. Perhaps he was stunned that the woman he'd once adored could be so cruel. Or perhaps, hearing it from someone else, he was finally understanding the painful truth of my past.
His arm around me tightened protectively.
"I don't care what you say. Jenna and I are legally married. We are husband and wife." His voice was low and dangerous. "If you ever lay a hand on my wife again, I will call the police."
Wife.
It was the first time he'd said the word with such conviction.
A thrill shot through me, so intense it was almost a physical itch in my throat, but I suppressed it.
After his threat of calling the police sent them scurrying away, I looked up and gently touched his cheek. "I'm okay, don't worry. I'll just find a new spot for the cart tomorrow."
I reached into my pocket. "And I made a lot of money recently. I'll keep a hundred for groceries, and the rest is all yours."
David looked down, his large hand covering mine, his touch surprisingly gentle.
His voice was thick with emotion. "Jenna... thank you."
I wrapped my arms around his waist. "There are no thanks between us."
Not yet, David. Save your thanks for when you're back on top of the world, a tycoon with a fortune to share.
4
After I moved my cart, David started joining me almost every evening.
Our earnings grew.
The day before the forty-day deadline mentioned in the pop-up, I transferred him our savings again.
"Why are you giving it all to me? I thought you were keeping some for household expenses," he said, frowning.
I showed him a picture on my phone with a secretive smile. It was a pile of sheet metal Id hidden in the building's alleyway. "I bought this from a scrap yard, and I found a used tricycle. Tomorrow, we can weld the metal on and create a mobile cart. We'll be able to go anywhere."
I continued, outlining my plan. "Grilled cheese is a good start, but I want to get into something bigger, like slow-cooked barbecue."
David was shelling peanuts, his mind clearly elsewhere, but he tried to engage. "Why barbecue?"
"A few years ago, after I graduated high school, I worked a summer job selling trinkets. The stall next to me sold barbecue, and they made more in a month than I did all summer."
He kept his head down, asking distractedly, "You didn't go to college after high school?"
I fell silent.
It took him a moment to realize what hed said. When he looked up, he saw the flicker of pain on my face.
"Our family they only needed one college graduate."
One sentence said it all.
Remorse washed over David's features. He moved to my side and pulled me into an embrace, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"Jenna, what if I can never give you a good life? What if this is it for me?" His voice was heavy with despair. "Maybe we should separate..."
Panic seized me. I pushed away from him, clutching his shirt. "David, are you leaving me?"
He shook his head quickly, but a sigh escaped him. "No, it's not that. I just I don't want you to suffer with me forever."
"I'm not suffering," I cut him off, my voice fierce. "Marrying you was the best decision I've made in my entire life."
His eyes, reflecting only my image, grew glassy.
The text pop-ups, however, were frantic.
[Don't give up, David! Your grandfather is coming for you tomorrow!]
[The Hawthorne family is going to compensate you with fifty million dollars, not to mention you'll inherit a multi-billion-dollar empire! It's all yours!]
Billions!
The number was so astronomical it barely registered.
My eye twitched, but I forced my excitement down, channeling it into a single, perfect tear that rolled down my cheek and landed on the back of his hand.
"David, please don't leave me. I'll work harder, I promise. I won't be a burden to you."
After a long, charged silence, he solemnly raised his right hand.
"Jenna, I, David Hawthorne, swear to you. You're standing by me through this hell. If I ever get back on my feet, I will never, ever let you down."
I blinked, nodding vigorously.
Thirty-nine days. Thirty-nine days of waiting for this very promise.
The tears that streamed down my face at that moment were the most genuine I had ever cried.
We made love all night, his body pressed against mine, whispering my name over and over again.
On the morning of the fortieth day, I got up and made breakfast as usual. Before leaving, I smiled and told him I'd see him after work, and we could build our new cart together.
He smiled back, taking my hand as we walked out of the basement apartment.
Waiting outside were several gleaming Maybachs.
The pop-ups were screaming. Internally, so was I.
But on the outside, I pulled him behind me protectively. "Are they debt collectors?" I whispered urgently. "Go around the back. I'll stall them."
He didn't move, looking just as confused as I was pretending to be.
Then, an elderly man stepped out of the lead car. He rushed forward, his hands trembling as he held out a document. A paternity test.
David's eyes widened in shock. The next second, his hand found mine, his grip tight.
"Jenna," he breathed, his voice shaking. "I'm still a Hawthorne. I can go home. No we can go home."
My own eyes grew wide with feigned astonishment, my mind racing. All those years of hardship, all those cold nights at the food cartit was all about to pay off.
But before I could say a word, the sound of frantic footsteps approached.
Jessica ran up, breathless and pointing an accusing finger at me.
"David, don't let her fool you!" she shrieked. "She knew you were the real Hawthorne heir the day she married you in my place!"

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