A Public Display

The gala was suffocating.

Dressed in a breathtaking gown, Emma felt every eye in the room on her. She was the billionaire's new bride—the woman no one expected him to marry.

As she sipped her champagne, she overheard whispers:

"Why her?"

"She's not even his type."

"I give it six months."

She clenched her jaw.

George noticed. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "If you're going to pretend to be my wife, at least smile."

She turned to him, eyes flashing. "Maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I would."

His lips twitched, but before he could respond, a woman approached—beautiful, confident, and clearly interested in him.

"Darling, it's been so long," the woman purred, touching his arm.

Emma expected him to ignore it, but instead, he smirked. "Has it?"

A sharp pang of jealousy hit her.

Before she could think, she stepped closer and grabbed his hand.

"She's my husband," she said smoothly. "And he doesn't have time for past mistakes."

The woman's face fell, and for the first time that night, George looked impressed.

Maybe this marriage wasn't going to be so predictable after all.