The year her ex-boyfriend posed as her husband for the ninth holiday season in a row, I asked for a divorce.
Greta James didn't even try to hide her irritation. "You have a title at the company, your name on the marriage certificate, a luxury car to drive, and a mansion to live in. What more could you possibly want?"
She crossed her arms. "Everyone back home looks down on you—some hick with a trade school diploma. If Melvin Gilbert hadn't been smoothing things over with my family for the past nine years, they would've thrown you out on the street a long time ago."
I stared at her, at the entitlement written across every line of her face, and felt something cold settle in my chest.
Maybe she'd forgotten.
Nine years ago, the James family was on the brink of bankruptcy. Melvin had fled the country overnight and cut all contact.
It was Greta—crying, begging—who came to me for help.
But for nine straight years, she had pushed me past my limits again and again. She assumed I'd stay no matter what, that my patience was infinite. She didn't understand that even the most devoted man needed something to hold on to. All she'd ever given me was bitterness.
——
When she saw that my expression hadn't changed, Greta faltered. A rare flicker of panic crossed her face.
"Honey, you're not serious, are you?"
She stepped in front of me, searching my eyes. "Let me make one thing clear—I don't do second chances. If you go through with this divorce, you will never get close to me again. Not in this lifetime."
"Think about it," she pressed. "You're not that long-lost heir everyone pitied anymore. Melvin already controls every asset in the Gilbert Group. Without me, you're nothing. Just some nobody with an empty name."
"Sure, when they first brought you back, the Gilberts felt guilty. They wanted to make it up to you. But what do you have now besides the surname? What connection is left?"
"Some people are born into fortune but never meant to keep it. Getting swapped at birth was just bad luck." She lifted her chin, smug and self-satisfied. "At least I never held it against you."
Greta was still beautiful—sharp brows, striking features, that imperious tilt of her jaw. But the sight of her stirred nothing in me anymore. Only exhaustion.
For nine years she had wielded my love like a weapon, saying whatever she pleased.
She knew. She knew the thing that cut deepest—being swapped at birth, growing up in misery, abandoned by my real family, scorned by the world.
And she brought it up every chance she got.
Melvin Gilbert stepped forward with a smirk. "Victor, you know what they say—a man should have his life together by thirty. You're well past that, and the only reason you have a respectable job is because of Greta. Divorce her, and you'll have nothing."
Greta's expression shifted instantly. She smiled and looped her arm through mine, all sweetness. "Honey, Melvin's right. Don't throw everything away over a moment of pride. We've been married nine years—you know how I feel about you."
"Every decision at the company, big or small, I've handed to you. Every document you sign goes straight to finance for payment. Every product launch, every press conference—you're the one who speaks on my behalf."
"How can you not see what that means?"
Her voice softened. She swayed my arm gently. "All I'm asking is for Melvin to pretend to be my husband for one trip home a year. If it really bothers you that much, I'll bring you next time. I'll tell everyone the truth—that nine years ago, I didn't marry the well-bred Melvin Gilbert. I married Victor Gilbert, the boy from the countryside."
"Even if the whole world laughs at me. Even if my parents break my legs. I will never give up on you."
She held up her hand like she was swearing an oath, her face the picture of sincerity.
If I hadn't heard this exact speech for nine years running, I might have believed her.
But this time, I didn't feel the old ache for her. I didn't worry about hurting her feelings. Instead, I smiled and nodded.
"Sure."
Greta blinked. "What?"
