Love's Betrayal: A Forged Marriage

"I want a divorce." The words, quiet but firm, cut through the tense air. For five years, I, Harlow Love, had been Kaden Barnes's wife in name only, a transaction to salvage his family's image after my father died saving his life. I endured his cruelty, his humiliation, and watched him openly love another woman.

When I finally gathered the courage to ask for freedom, his mother, the matriarch, coldly informed me I'd have to endure the family's "disciplinary measures"-thirty lashes-to prove I wasn't being cast out. But then, a shocking truth shattered my world: "A forgery," Kaden casually revealed. "That marriage isn't even legal." My five years of suffering, the beatings, the public shame, all for a lie.

The relief was short-lived. Brittaney, Kaden's mistress, framed me for hurting her dog, then for trying to kill her during a horseback ride. Kaden, blinded by his devotion to her, believed every lie. He brutally punished me, breaking my leg and dislocating my arm, leaving me for dead.

I was just a prop, a placeholder, less than a spoiled dog in his eyes. My pain, my dignity, meant nothing. Why did he believe her every word, every tear, over my bleeding body?

But in the depths of despair, a lifeline appeared. His mother, horrified by his cruelty, secretly sent me to London, granting me the freedom I had so desperately craved. I was finally free, and I vowed never to see Kaden Barnes again.

Chapter 1

"I want a divorce."

The words left Harlow Love's mouth, quiet but firm, cutting through the tense air of the grand Barnes family hall.

She knelt on the cold marble floor, her back screaming in pain from the injuries hidden beneath her simple dress. Her head was bowed, but her spirit was not broken.

Mrs. Barnes, the matriarch of the political dynasty, sat in a heavy, carved wooden chair, her face a mask of cold indifference. She looked down at Harlow, her voice devoid of warmth. "And why would you want that?"

"You know why," Harlow said, her voice shaking slightly but holding its course. "This marriage was never real. It was a transaction. A way for your family to look good after my father died saving Kaden's life."

She didn't need to elaborate. The story was public knowledge. Her father, the family's longtime chauffeur, had taken a bullet for Kaden Barnes, the sole heir. To manage the PR fallout and project an image of gratitude, Mrs. Barnes had forced her son into a contractual marriage with the grieving daughter.

"For five years," Harlow continued, her voice heavy with the weight of those years, "I have been his wife in name only. I have been his punching bag, his outlet for every frustration. I have endured his cruelty and his humiliation."

Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "And I have watched him love another woman."

The name hung in the air, unsaid but known to everyone. Brittaney Cortez. Kaden's childhood sweetheart, his constant companion, the woman who treated Harlow's home as her own.

"That's not a sufficient reason," Mrs. Barnes said, her tone dismissive. "You are the wife of Kaden Barnes. That should be enough."

Harlow almost laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "The wife? Everyone in this city knows the truth. Everyone whispers about it."

In the corner of the hall, two distant cousins were already whispering, their voices low but carrying.

"She's talking about Brittaney, isn't she?"

"Of course. Kaden doesn't even hide it. He takes Brittaney everywhere. He bought her a mansion right next to his private club."

Mrs. Barnes's jaw tightened. "Idle gossip."

"It's not gossip when he leaves my bed to answer her calls. It's not gossip when he flaunts her at parties while I stand in the corner like a servant," Harlow shot back, lifting her head to meet the older woman's gaze.

"Men of power have their indulgences," Mrs. Barnes said coolly. "It is a wife's duty to be tolerant. You have a title and wealth beyond your wildest dreams. Do not be greedy, Harlow."

Harlow felt the sharp, throbbing pain in her back flare up. It was a fresh reminder of last night's punishment, a beating with a leather belt because she had accidentally spilled wine on a suit Brittaney had picked out for Kaden. Her will, however, was stronger than the pain.

"I don't want the title. I don't want the money," she said, tears finally welling in her eyes, blurring the cold face of her mother-in-law. "I just want to be free. I am begging you. Let me go."

A long silence stretched between them. Mrs. Barnes studied her, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. Perhaps it was the finality in Harlow's tone, the sheer exhaustion that radiated from her.

"Very well," the matriarch finally conceded, the words dropping like stones.

Harlow's heart leaped with a desperate hope.

"But you know the rules of this family," Mrs. Barnes continued, her voice turning to ice. "Leaving is not a simple matter. Kaden is the heir to the Barnes empire. A divorce is an embarrassment. To earn your freedom, you must endure the family's disciplinary measures. To prove you are leaving of your own accord and not because you have been cast out."

Harlow knew what this meant. The Barnes family had their own twisted code of justice, designed to break anyone who defied them.

"The rules state that anyone who wishes to sever ties must withstand the thirty lashes," Mrs. Barnes said, her voice clinical. "After that, you may leave."

Thirty lashes. On top of the injuries she already carried. It could be a death sentence.

But as Harlow looked at the matriarch, her gaze did not waver. The memory of her wedding day flashed in her mind. Kaden hadn't even shown up. He was with Brittaney, comforting her because she was upset about the "fake" marriage.

She remembered every family dinner where Kaden would place food on Brittaney's plate, laughing and talking with her while Harlow sat in silence, invisible.

She remembered the long, lonely nights, hearing his car pull up, only for him to spend hours on the phone, his voice soft and tender as he spoke to Brittaney, sounds he never once directed at her.

She remembered the coldness in his eyes after the rare, forced moments of intimacy, when he would push a glass of water and a pill into her hand. "Take it. You are Mrs. Barnes. That is your title. But you will not bear my child."

Five years. She had hoped, naively, that her quiet devotion, her tireless management of his home, her unwavering loyalty in the face of public humiliation, might one day earn her a sliver of his affection. A payment for the debt he owed her father.

But he had never loved her. He never would. Everyone knew it.

What was the point of staying? It was a mistake to ever have come here, to have believed in a debt of honor from a man who had none.

She was just a joke. A placeholder.

"I accept," Harlow said, her voice clear.

She dragged her broken body back to the opulent mansion she was supposed to call home. Each step was agony. The wounds on her back burned, and her legs felt weak.

As she reached the grand staircase, she heard voices from the living room. Brittaney's, sweet and cloying.

"Kaden, darling, when are you going to get rid of her? I can't stand seeing her face."

"Soon, my love," Kaden's voice was a low murmur, full of the affection Harlow had craved for five years. "Just be patient."

"But your mother seems to like her," Brittaney pouted. "What if she won't let you divorce her?"

Kaden laughed, a sound that was both charming and cruel. "Like her? My mother only cares about appearances. And besides, that marriage isn't even legal."

Harlow froze, her hand gripping the banister.

Brittaney sounded shocked. "What? But... the marriage certificate? I saw it."

"A forgery," Kaden said smoothly. "Just a piece of paper to satisfy the old woman and the press. In the eyes of the law, that woman is nothing to me."

The world tilted. The air left Harlow's lungs. Her blood ran cold.

A forgery.

Five years of suffering, of beatings, of public shame, of holding onto the one thing she thought was real-her status as his wife-and it was all a lie. A cruel, elaborate play.

She wasn't even worthy of a real marriage certificate.

A strange sense of relief washed over the despair. If the marriage wasn't real, then leaving would be even cleaner. She was truly free.

She clenched her fists, ready to turn and walk out the door right now.

Suddenly, a small, white ball of fluff shot out from the living room. It was Princess, Brittaney's spoiled Pomeranian. The dog snarled and sank its teeth into Harlow's calf.

Pain, sharp and searing, erupted from her leg. Blood immediately soaked through her stocking.

She cried out, trying to shake the dog off, but it held on tight, growling.

Footsteps hurried from the living room. Brittaney appeared, dressed in a silk robe that made her look like the lady of the house.

She didn't rush to help. Instead, she pushed Harlow hard, sending her stumbling against the wall.

"Princess! Oh, my baby!" Brittaney cooed, scooping the dog into her arms. She turned on Harlow, her eyes blazing with hatred. "What did you do to my dog? Are you trying to hurt her?"

"She bit me!" Harlow gasped, pointing to her bleeding leg.

"Liar!" Brittaney shrieked. "Princess would never bite anyone unless she was provoked! You vile woman, you were probably trying to kick her!"

Harlow was too tired to argue. The pain in her back and her leg was making her dizzy. She just wanted to leave. She tried to push herself up.

Brittaney saw her movement and a vicious glint appeared in her eyes. She raised her hand to strike Harlow across the face.

Instinctively, Harlow threw up her arm to block the blow, her other hand coming up to push Brittaney away.

At that exact moment, Kaden stepped out of the living room. He saw Harlow's hand extended toward Brittaney and moved in a blur, pulling Brittaney into his protective embrace.

Kaden's cold eyes landed on Harlow, filled with disgust.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snarled.

Harlow looked from her bleeding leg to Kaden cradling Brittaney as if she were a fragile doll. A dull ache spread through her chest, more painful than any physical wound.

She fought to keep her voice steady. "She tried to hit me."

"Kaden!" Brittaney sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "She tried to hurt Princess! She kicked my poor baby for no reason!"

Kaden's brow furrowed, his gaze turning to ice. "Why would you attack a helpless animal, Harlow? You know how much Brittaney loves that dog."

A tear of pure frustration and despair slid down Harlow's cheek. "You didn't see! The dog bit me first! Look at my leg!"

The combination of blood loss and the searing pain in her back finally overwhelmed her. Her legs gave out, and she slid down the wall, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

For a brief second, Kaden's eyes flickered to the gash on her calf, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. His tone softened almost imperceptibly.

"Let's get that cleaned up."

But Brittaney immediately tightened her grip on him, her sobs growing more frantic. "No! Kaden, she hurt Princess! My poor baby is traumatized!"

Kaden's momentary concern for Harlow vanished. He stroked Brittaney's hair, his voice dripping with affection. "There, there. What do you want me to do, my love?"

Brittaney lifted her tear-streaked face, her eyes filled with venom as she looked at Harlow. "I want her to apologize. To Princess."

Kaden looked back at Harlow on the floor, his expression hardening again. "You heard her. Apologize to the dog, and we can put this behind us."

Harlow let out a weak, bitter laugh. In his eyes, her pain, her blood, her dignity-it was all worth less than a spoiled dog.

Her face was pale, but her voice was resolute. "No."

"What did you say?" Kaden's voice dropped, taking on a dangerous edge.

"I said no," Harlow repeated, trembling but defiant. "I did nothing wrong."

Brittaney let out a theatrical gasp and began to shake in Kaden's arms.

Kaden's patience snapped. "Do you dare to disobey me?" he thundered.

Harlow stared at him, her heart a block of ice. She remembered every time she had complied, every time she had swallowed her pride, hoping for a crumb of kindness that never came. It had gotten her nothing.

"I am still the lady of this house, am I not?" she challenged, her voice barely a whisper. "Or is that title as fake as our marriage certificate?"

Kaden went still, his eyes narrowing. Then a cruel smile touched his lips. "Don't you dare pull rank on me, Harlow. It won't work."

He took a step closer, towering over her. "Apologize. Now. Or I'll make you."

Harlow looked at his handsome, merciless face and felt a wave of revulsion. He was willing to humiliate her to this extent for a dog, for Brittaney.

Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself to her feet, clinging to the banister for support. She met his gaze, her own eyes filled with a mixture of pain and pity. Pity for this powerful man who was so emotionally stunted, so completely owned by his own cruelty.

"Never," she said.

Kaden's face contorted with rage. "Guards!" he bellowed. "Take her to the courtyard. Make her kneel. She will stay there until she is ready to apologize."

Two stone-faced guards appeared instantly. As they grabbed her arms, Brittaney, no longer crying, shot Harlow a triumphant, mocking smirk.

"Kaden," Harlow called out, her voice raspy, as the guards began to drag her away.

He turned back, his expression cold and impatient. "What? Have you changed your mind?"

She wanted to scream at him that she was leaving, that his mother had already agreed, that soon he would be rid of her forever. But the words caught in her throat, choked by years of unshed tears and unspoken pain.

All she could manage was a single, desolate whisper. "You are a heartless man."

Kaden just scoffed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Get her out of my sight."

He turned his back on her and walked away without a second glance.

Harlow watched him go, the guards' grip digging into her arms. She felt the sharp sting of her own nails digging into her palms.

It's almost over, she told herself. Just a little more, and you'll be free.

Harlow knelt in the courtyard all night. The cold seeped into her bones, aggravating her existing injuries until every part of her body was a symphony of pain. When dawn broke, a servant finally helped her to her feet and back to her room.

She ignored the servant's pleas to rest. She had to get to the old Barnes estate. She had to receive her punishment and leave this place for good.

She was limping down the grand staircase when Kaden appeared at the bottom, his brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"

"Your mother has summoned me to the main house," Harlow replied, her voice flat and emotionless.

Kaden's expression darkened. He was about to say something when Brittaney's cheerful voice floated down from the top of the stairs.

"Going to the main house? Are you running to tattle to the old lady, Harlow?" Brittaney descended the stairs, deliberately using Harlow's first name with a familiar contempt.

Harlow ignored her and continued toward the front door.

"Stop." Kaden's voice was a command. He grabbed her arm, his grip like iron. "You're not going anywhere. Brittaney wants to go shopping. You will accompany her."

He looked her up and down, his eyes filled with disdain for her simple, worn dress. "I'll give you some money. Buy yourself something decent. You look pathetic."

Harlow felt a hysterical laugh bubble in her throat. In five years, he had never once offered to buy her anything. His sudden "generosity" was obviously just another way to appease Brittaney.

"No, thank you," she said, her voice like ice. "I have to go to the main house."

Before she could finish, Kaden gestured to his guards. "Put her in the car."

They forced her into the back of the limousine without another word.

The shopping trip was torture. Brittaney fluttered from one expensive boutique to another, her energy boundless, her laughter echoing through the mall. Harlow was forced to follow, carrying an ever-growing mountain of shopping bags.

Her back felt like it was on fire. Her leg throbbed. Her knees, bruised from kneeling all night, buckled with every step. Finally, she couldn't go on. The bags slipped from her numb fingers and fell to the floor. She leaned against a wall, gasping for breath, too weak to even speak.

Brittaney sauntered over, a smug smile on her face. "Tired already? You're so delicate, Harlow."

Harlow stared at her, her face a blank mask. She knew Brittaney was doing this on purpose, savoring every moment of her suffering. There was no escape, not until Mrs. Barnes officially granted the divorce.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself off the wall and bent to pick up the bags.

But Brittaney wasn't finished with her.

When they returned to the mansion, Brittaney pointed to the mountain of new clothes. "Wash these."

Kaden, who had been reading a newspaper, looked up. He didn't even glance at Harlow. "Do as she says."

Harlow was stunned. "But... there are maids for that. And my leg... my back..."

Kaden finally lifted his eyes and saw her pale, sweat-drenched face. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something-pity, perhaps-crossed his features.

Brittaney saw it too. She immediately sighed, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, never mind. It's fine. I'll do it myself. I wouldn't want to trouble the great Mrs. Barnes, of course."

The sarcasm was thick. Kaden's expression hardened instantly. He turned his fury on Harlow.

"She's offering to do it herself, and you just stand there? What's wrong with you washing a few clothes? It's not like you do anything else around here."

The words hit Harlow harder than any physical blow. She went silent.

She was the daughter of a chauffeur, a servant. Even after five years as the lady of the house, in his eyes, that's all she would ever be. A servant.

Without another word, she turned and began carrying the clothes to the laundry room.

As she left, she heard Brittaney wrap her arms around Kaden's neck. "Oh, Kaden, you're the best. You always take care of me."

His voice, soft and indulgent, followed her. "Anything for you, my love."

Harlow looked at the mountain of delicate silks and fabrics piled in the laundry room and felt like the biggest fool in the world.

It was long past midnight when she finished. The repeated motion of scrubbing had reopened the wounds on her back. Her leg was swollen and hot to the touch. An infection had set in, and a fever was raging through her body.

She stumbled blindly up the stairs, her vision blurring. She made it to her bedroom before collapsing onto the floor, unconscious.

When she woke up, she was in a sterile white room. A nurse was adjusting an IV drip connected to her arm.

"You're awake," the nurse said kindly. "You have a high fever. Mr. Barnes brought you in himself. He was very worried. He specifically told us to take extra good care of you."

Harlow's heart gave a strange, painful jolt. Kaden? Worried about her? She knew better than to believe it.

The door to her room burst open.

Kaden stormed in, his face a mask of thunderous rage. He was holding a pistol, and he pressed the cold barrel directly against her forehead.