The Revenge Marriage

After falling for a guy with nothing to his name, I hid the fact that I was an heiress. I wanted to build a life with him, starting from the ground up, working my way up from the bottom right beside him.
But on the eve of our wedding, I walked in on him with his boss.
“That woman, Jenna… she’s plain and broke. She’s not worth a single hair on your head, Melissa.”
“I’m counting on you to help me climb the ladder.”
A sharp pain bloomed in my palm as my nails dug into my skin, the only thing stopping me from throwing the door open and confronting them.
I tore the ten-million-dollar contract in my hands to shreds, then sent a text to my father.
“I’m coming home. I’ll do the merger.”

1
The lights in our small walk-up apartment were still on. When Caleb pushed the door open, he found me sitting on the sofa.
“Jenna? You’re still up?”
He slipped off his jacket, his voice gentle, as if nothing was wrong. As if the world hadn't just shattered.
I looked up, my eyes meeting his.
There, on the collar of his shirt, was a tell-tale crimson stain. A smear of lipstick.
“Working late?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, tossing his jacket onto the sofa and moving in to hug me. “Yeah, project’s on a tight deadline. I’m exhausted.”
The cloying, expensive perfume I knew belonged to Melissa Vance clung to him, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I shifted away, forcing a brittle smile. “I’m a little tired myself.”
I hesitated, then decided to give him one last chance. A final test. “Caleb, what do you think of me?”
His expression froze for a fraction of a second before he stretched his lips into a stiff smile. “You’re the best person in the world, of course. You never looked down on me for being poor. You’ve always taken care of me.”
My fingertips trembled. I scoffed silently. “Is that all?”
His gaze flickered between me and the clock on the wall, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Of course not. I love you more than anything.”
“And what if someone better came along?” I pressed, my voice unyielding. “Someone with money? Someone who could give you a future?”
“Did you hear some rumor?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. “We’re about to get married, Jenna. I would never want anyone else.”
I stared at him, my eyes brimming with a mockery he couldn’t see. “You’re sure?”
“Of course!” He grabbed my hand. His palm was damp, but his tone was painfully sincere. “I’ve wanted to marry you for so long. I just couldn’t afford it before.”
He was always like this—a master of feigned sincerity. But beneath the surface... ha.
I pulled my hand away and stood up, my voice turning to ice. “What about Melissa Vance?”
The smile vanished from his face. “What about her?”
“Nothing,” I said, the single word heavy with all my disappointment. “Get some sleep.”
I gave him a chance. He didn't take it. So be it.

2
The next morning, I gathered all my documents and went straight to the office.
The glass door to Human Resources reflected the sterile, fluorescent glow of the office. When I pushed it open, Melissa Vance was leaning against a desk, her long, crimson nails tapping against a file. She was poured into a tight black dress, the gold senior executive pin on her lapel catching the light.
“Well, well. If it isn’t our star assistant, Jenna,” she drawled, putting a venomous emphasis on the word assistant. “You’re in early. Here to quit?”
The HR manager, a kind older woman named Kate, stood awkwardly to the side, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn't.
I calmly placed my resignation letter on the desk. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’d like it processed as soon as possible.”
Melissa’s hand shot out, pressing down on the paper. “What’s the rush?” She leaned closer, her perfume making my temples throb. “You know, Caleb was at my place last night. We were ‘working’ very late.”
She ran a suggestive finger over a faint red mark on her neck, her voice dripping with provocation. “Young men have so much… stamina.”
My nails dug deeper into my palm.
Just then, the door swung open and Caleb rushed in, a stack of files in his arms. “Melissa, here are the reports you—"
His voice died in his throat.
Three pairs of eyes met in the suffocating silence.
Caleb’s tie was crooked, and another faint lipstick smear stained his collar. The sight of me sent a jolt of panic across his face. “Jenna? What are you doing here?”
“Just taking care of some business with Ms. Vance,” I said, my voice as sharp as broken glass. “After all, you seem to enjoy how she… takes care of business, don't you?”
Melissa let out a short, sharp laugh and patted Caleb’s shoulder intimately. “Your girlfriend is a real character.” She turned back to me, her lips curling into a sneer. “Jenna, you’re just a broke kid with a useless degree. Nobody’s going to hire you after you leave here. Isn't that right, our future director?”
Caleb just stood there, his lips moving silently. Finally, he lowered his head and started shuffling the perfectly organized stack of papers.
His silence was more damning than any confession.
I snatched my signed departure form. As I turned to leave, I gave Caleb one last look. “You know, I was packing up my things yesterday and found that necklace you gave me.”
His head shot up. I smiled, a cold, cutting thing.
“It’s a fake.”
Walking out of the building, the sky was a heavy, oppressive gray. I took a deep breath and dialed my father's number. “Dad, I quit. I’ll be home tomorrow.”
On the other end, I could hear the relief in his voice. “Good. Just come home.”
I hung up and glanced back at the office tower where I’d wasted three years of my life. My heart was a block of ice.
Back in the apartment, the fluorescent lights buzzed, casting a sickly white glow. Caleb followed me in as I shoved the last of my sweaters into a suitcase.
“Jenna, don’t be like this!” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist. There was real fear in his voice now. “There’s nothing going on between me and Melissa! She’s just… you know, very forward.”
I wrenched my arm free and pulled a velvet box from a drawer. Inside lay the “gold” necklace he’d supposedly saved up three months’ salary to buy. I threw it into the trash can. The clatter of cheap metal was deafening.
“Forward enough to leave hickeys on your neck? Forward enough that you’ve worn the same shirt for three days straight?” I pointed to the laundry rack on the balcony, closing my eyes against the sting of tears. “Caleb, every single day when I washed your shirt, all I could smell was her perfume!”
The color drained from his face. “Let me explain.”
“Explain what?” I shot back, my voice dripping with scorn. “Explain how you told her in the conference room that I was plain and poor? Or explain how you threw away your dignity for a promotion?”
A sudden downpour started outside, raindrops lashing against the window like a thousand tiny slaps.
Caleb sank onto the edge of the bed, defeated. “I know I’m not good enough for you,” he mumbled, his voice a mix of sorrow and something uglier—a calculated threat. “But this promotion is everything to me. How am I supposed to marry you without it?”
It felt like ants were crawling under my skin.
I zipped up my suitcase. The sound of the metal teeth locking together felt like an ending.
“Believe whatever you want.”
With that, I turned and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” he scrambled up, blocking my way.
“Business trip,” I lied, my heart cold. “Last-minute thing. I’ll be gone a week.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Be safe. Come back soon.”
I didn’t answer. I just pulled my suitcase behind me and walked out of that apartment, and out of that life, for good.

3
The day after I returned home, my father arranged for me to meet my intended.
In the sun-drenched parlor of the Sinclair Estate, the front doors swung open, and the Earl Grey tea I was sipping caught in my throat.
The man standing there was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, a wry smile playing on his lips. It was my childhood rival, the one person I could never stand.
“Julian Croft! What are you doing here?” I slammed my cup down, the clatter startling a black cat outside the window.
“Disappointed to see me?” Julian asked, slowly polishing his gold-rimmed glasses. His voice was as infuriating as I remembered. “I heard the great Jenna Sinclair ran away from home for love. I came back just to see the show.”
The lenses of his glasses caught the light, and his eyes curved into a dangerous arc. “I didn't expect to find a drowned rat.”
I hurled a silk cushion at him, my face flushing with anger. “You’re the rat!”
He caught it effortlessly, his playful demeanor suddenly vanishing. “I heard the guy was sleeping with his boss.”
When I didn't answer, he let out a short, harsh laugh. “I told you. The first thing a man like that throws away when he gets a taste of money is his conscience.”
“What do you know!” I shot up from my seat, ready to defend… what? I didn’t even know anymore. “At least he—”
“At least he what?” Julian stood too, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. “Cooked you soup when you had a cold? Made you breakfast?” He reached out, his fingers closing around my chin, forcing me to meet his searching gaze. “Jenna, when did you get so cheap?”
I slapped his hand away, but his next words stopped me cold.
“So, what do you say? Want to marry me?”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes.
“Why not?” he pressed.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see my father and his, old Mr. Croft, chatting amiably in the garden. I stared at the diamond tie pin on Julian’s tie and crossed my arms. “I want the wedding of the century. I want every media outlet there.”
He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “And?”
I met his gaze, my voice steady and cold as steel. “And on my wedding day, I want Caleb to watch, in person, as Melissa Vance’s company goes bankrupt.”
Julian threw his head back and laughed, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room. He reached out and ruffled my hair.
“Now that’s the Jenna Sinclair I know.”

4
The wedding was set for the following week, and it was an affair of breathtaking extravagance.
I stood in the dressing room, my hands clammy in the couture gown. Julian pushed the door open and saw my nerves.
“Having second thoughts?” he teased.
I shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
He chuckled, stepping forward to adjust my veil. “Relax. I’m here. No one will dare laugh at you.”
I paused, and for a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad after all.
On the guest registry, Caleb’s name was crammed into a corner. As Melissa’s “plus-one,” he’d been seated at an extra table in the very back. I could see him fawning over her, pouring champagne, his eyes darting hungrily toward the lavish gift tables.
Then, the wedding march began.
As I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, I saw Caleb’s back go rigid out of the corner of my eye. The champagne flute in his hand tipped, spilling red wine all over Melissa’s dress.
“What the hell are you doing?” Her shriek turned a few heads.
But Caleb didn’t hear her. He was staring, transfixed, at the diamond-encrusted belt on my wedding gown. The one he’d once said he could never afford in a thousand lifetimes.
“And now, the bride and groom will exchange rings,” the officiant announced.
Julian deliberately lifted my left hand high, letting the ten-carat pink diamond catch the spotlights and explode with light.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
The second the words were spoken, Julian lifted my veil and his lips met mine.
The hall erupted in applause.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Caleb stumble forward, trying to push through the crowd, only to be blocked by security.
“Jenna!” he cried out, his voice raw with anguish.
The orchestra swelled, perfectly timed, drowning him out. Julian wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Care for a bit more drama?”
Before I could answer, he turned back to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming. We’d especially like to thank my wife’s former colleagues for joining us.”
The spotlight operator took the cue, swinging the beam directly onto Caleb’s pale, horrified face. He nervously clutched the lapels of his cheap suit, his jaw tight with rage. “Jenna, how could you marry someone else? Was it just for the money?!”
Julian let out a cold laugh, his voice laced with contempt. “Money? Mr. Evans, I think you’re confusing my wife with yourself.” He paused for effect. “You see, you seem to be under the impression that you were dating a simple assistant.”
The spotlight seemed to burn brighter.
“My wife… is Jenna Sinclair. Heiress to the Sinclair Corporation.”

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