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The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire
img img The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire img Chapter 6 6
6 Chapters
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 6 6

The taxi idled at the wrought-iron gates of the Bartlett estate.

The guard peered into the back seat. His lip curled when he saw the cab.

"Ms. Bartlett," he said into the intercom. "And... a guest."

"Husband," Aisha corrected loudly. "Open the gate, Jerry."

The gate creaked open.

They drove up the winding driveway. The mansion loomed ahead, a monstrosity of stone and ego.

"Remember," Aisha whispered, gripping Dominic's hand. "You're an entrepreneur. You're struggling, but you have 'potential'. Don't let them intimidate you."

Dominic looked at the house. He estimated its value at maybe twelve million. He had bought a penthouse in Tokyo last week for twenty.

"I'll be brave," he said deadpan.

They walked into the foyer. Laughter drifted from the drawing room.

They entered. Gretta was holding court, surrounded by a few socialites. Cathie was standing by an easel, displaying a painting.

"And this," Cathie was saying, "is my latest piece. I call it 'Storm'."

Aisha gasped. "That's mine."

The room went silent.

Aisha marched forward. "I painted that three years ago. The signature is under the frame tape."

Cathie's eyes widened, then filled with instant, practiced tears. "Aisha? You're... you're hallucinating again. Mom, she's having an episode."

Gretta rushed forward, her face a mask of concern. "Oh, honey. Did you take your meds? Look at your pupils."

She reached out to grab Aisha's arm.

Aisha slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me."

"Enough!"

Barry Bartlett stood in the doorway of his study. His face was purple with rage.

"You show up here, looking like a streetwalker, smelling like..." He sniffed. "Hot dogs? And you accuse your sister?"

"She's not my sister," Aisha spat. "And I'm here to tell you that the trust is mine. Paragraph 14 is satisfied."

She grabbed Dominic's hand and pulled him forward.

"Meet my husband."

Barry stared. He looked Dominic up and down-the leather jacket, the messy hair, the worn boots.

"This?" Barry laughed. It was a cruel, barking sound. "You married a hobo?"

Dominic stepped forward. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't look angry. He just looked... bored.

"Mr. Bartlett," Dominic said. "I'd appreciate it if you spoke to my wife with respect."

Barry stopped laughing. There was something in Dominic's tone-a steel core wrapped in velvet-that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Get out," Barry whispered. "Security!"

"We're leaving," Aisha said. She held up her phone. "But I've already emailed the marriage certificate to the trustees. If you try to stop the payments, I'll sue you for breach of fiduciary duty. And I'll do it loudly."

She turned on her heel. "Come on, Dominic."

They walked out.

Dominic glanced back at Barry. He offered a small, polite nod.

It was the nod of a predator acknowledging prey.

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