The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Dr. West’s stern expression was the final image etched into Cathleen’s mind as he exited the room. She sighed heavily and turned her weary gaze toward the laptop sitting on the desk in front of her. As if on cue, a new email notification popped up, jolting her back to reality. The weight of her pain seemed to intensify as she realized that life went on, no matter how much she wished for it to pause for just a moment longer.

Cathleen’s fingers trembled slightly as she clicked open the message. Glow Girl’s logo-a radiant face encircled by stars-filled the screen, and with it, an offer that made her heart skip a beat. The photoshoot offer landed in Cathleen’s inbox like a golden ticket. The brand, known for celebrating flawless skin, coveted her natural beauty that needed no enhancement. The payment promised was extravagant, a sum that couldn’t be dismissed lightly.

This was a great escape from her marriage and from her husband, who thinks he can boss her around. When Cathleen was abroad, she used to do photoshoots and part-time jobs to pay her tuition fees. She never thought she would go back to doing that type of work again now that she was a lawyer. But with the peace this offer was offering her, she couldn’t resist. This, for her, was enough of an excuse to stay out of Xavier’s sight.

Without a second thought, Cathleen’s fingers danced across the keys, crafting her acceptance. Each tap was a declaration, an act of defiance against Xavier’s unknowing disdain. She would not be caged. Not by him, nor by the twisted bonds of their union.

Across town, Olivia’s high heels clacked against the floor of her apartment, each step a drumbeat of her simmering rage. Xavier’s words still festered in her mind, branding her with invisible scars. The nerve of him, lumping her in the same sordid category as his wife. His words still hurt: ‘Unless Miss Williams is selling her pussy.” Those words were enough to send her into a coma.

Her phone chimed, a distraction from her seething thoughts. Glow Girl. Olivia’s lips curled into a rare smile-this brand was her realm, her dominion. But as she read, the words twisted like a knife in her gut. Canceled. Her next shoot, her stage, was ripped away from her.

“Impossible,” she spat out, the phone nearly slipping from her grasp. This day, already careening off course, had plunged into madness. Rejection from Glow Girl was an insult beyond measure, a blow to her very essence.

Olivia’s mind spun with chaotic energy, her thoughts a raging whirlpool of vindictive indignation and calculated scheming. The mere mention of Xavier’s name ignited a rage within her like a dormant volcano suddenly erupting with molten fury. With determination and malice fueling her every move, she vowed to let Xavier know that the gig he got her from Glow Girl was canceled. She wants Glow Girl to feel the sharp sting of her wrath, pulsing through their veins like venom from a serpent’s fangs. But then Olivia smiled.

Her smile was razor-sharp and piercing. “Who in this country is a better model than me?” she mused aloud, her voice laced with incredulity. The plush couch accepted her form, a silent witness to the tempest brewing within her. She was already plotting her next move, rehearsing the biting words she’d unleash on Xavier. The deal he brokered for her is gone. Just like that.

The fire of determination burned even hotter as her sense of injustice rose. Olivia would not let this stand; she would boldly go to Xavier’s office, confront him, and demand justice. She refused to let this offense be swept under the rug.

The morning broke with an air of indifference. Cathleen emerged from her shower, droplets tracing paths along her skin like fleeting caresses. She decided to skip breakfast as she knew she would have to pretend she was okay in front of Xavier. She slipped into the white satin dress, feeling its luxurious fabric whisper secrets against her skin. The gown clung to her curves, accentuating every line of her body. Its slit offered a tantalizing glimpse of danger and rebellion, exposing her full right thigh and daring anyone who dared to cross her path. As she twirled in front of the mirror, the dress shimmered like moonlight on water, adding an air of mystery and allure to her appearance. She couldn’t help but feel powerful and alluring as she donned this seductive garment.

Descending the staircase, Cathleen moved with controlled elegance, her handbag a symbol of sophistication in the midst of turmoil. The dawn’s gentle rays caressed her, casting an aura of innocence upon her in a home tainted by betrayal and deceit.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

With an ominous creak, the front door swung open, signaling the arrival of the storm. Olivia burst into the living room, her energy crashing through the silence like a sudden clap of thunder. “Xavier?” Her voice rang out, filled with a sense of urgency and desperation. The sound reverberated off the walls, echoing throughout the empty house. The air felt charged with tension as if waiting for the inevitable storm to break.

At the breakfast table, Xavier sat, his usual stern expression frozen in shock as he gazed upon his wife, Cathleen. She was coming down the stairs, her delicate figure draped in a white gown that seemed to glow in the morning light. Her eyes met his with an unspoken challenge, daring him to break free from his stoic facade. He was struck dumb, a man turned to stone by the sheer beauty and presence of his beloved wife. Every curve of her body and every strand of her hair seemed to radiate an otherworldly aura. For a moment, he forgot where he was and who he was supposed to be; all that mattered was this ethereal creature standing before him, captivating him with her mere existence.

Olivia’s gaze followed his, a silent trail from shock to realization. In one swift motion, she seized his chin, wrenching his attention back to her. “Oh, you’re here,” Xavier said with feigned nonchalance, though his eyes betrayed the longing to linger on the sight he’d been torn from.

“Of course I am,” Olivia snapped, her fingers digging into his flesh, demanding recognition. Xavier’s acceptance was hesitant; he was a man trapped by the alluring woman he had married.

Cathleen’s ponytail swung with a measured tempo, each swaying a metronome, ticking down to the inevitable collision of wills. Her dress was not just a garment but a banner unfurled in a silent declaration of war.

And there they stood, three souls entwined in a dance macabre, each step choreographed by deceit, where love was the prize and betrayal the currency.