Playing The Toxic Wife To Attract Billionaires

June bolted upright on the king-size bed.

The silk sheets pooled at her waist as she clawed at her chest. Her lungs refused to expand. A sharp, tearing agony ripped through her sternum, as if someone had shoved a fist into her ribcage and squeezed her heart. She gasped, sucking in useless air.

She blinked through the tears blurring her vision. The room around her was massive. Vaulted ceilings, excessive gold-leaf molding, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the swaying palm trees of Beverly Hills. The sheer opulence hit her brain like a physical blow, sending her into a brief, violent spiral of sensory overload.

Her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. She stumbled, her knees buckling, and practically threw herself into the adjoining master bathroom.

She gripped the edges of the marble vanity. Her knuckles turned white. She stared into the massive mirror and staggered back a half-step. The face staring back at her was breathtakingly beautiful, but the sharp arch of the eyebrows and the harsh set of the jaw screamed of a toxic, bitter woman. It wasn't her face.

A cold, synthesized voice sliced through the silence in her head.

"System Moe-7 activated."

June's heart stuttered. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. She thought she was hallucinating from the pain.

"You have exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining." the voice stated.

A digital, blood-red countdown timer burned itself into her retinas.

04:59.

June slammed her fist against the marble counter. "Is this a sick joke?" she rasped, her throat burning.

The system didn't answer with words. It answered with pain.

A very real, very violent spike of agony shot straight through her left ventricle. June's legs gave out. She collapsed, her knees slamming hard against the freezing marble floor.

"Plot synchronization complete," the cold voice echoed.

Memories that didn't belong to her slammed into her skull. June bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. She was June Myers. The disposable, toxic wife of the ruthless billionaire Isaac Walton.

She saw the ending. She saw Isaac and his son coldly signing the papers to lock her in a psychiatric ward for the rest of her life. June grabbed the lapels of her silk robe, her fingers trembling violently as terror coated her throat.

"Bind with the system to earn lifespan," Moe-7 demanded.

June forced her breathing to slow. She was a modern woman. She knew how to negotiate. "Show me the underlying logic," she choked out. "What are the terms? I need to see the contract."

The system ignored her. The red numbers in her vision blurred and suddenly dropped.

00:10.

00:09.

The air left the room. An invisible hand wrapped around June's throat, crushing her windpipe. She clawed at her own neck.

00:03.

Survival instinct overrode everything. "I agree!" she screamed into the empty bathroom. "I bind!"

The crushing pressure vanished instantly.

June slumped sideways onto the floor. She dragged in massive, ragged breaths. Cold sweat soaked through the back of her silk nightgown, sticking the fabric to her spine. She had never felt a fear so absolute, so physically crushing.

"Starter pack deployed," the system chimed.

A massive headache split her skull as the original June's memories-a chaotic mess of Hollywood drama, screaming matches, and vanity-were forcefully shoved into her brain.

June grabbed the edge of the vanity and hauled herself up. She stared at her pathetic reflection, mentally cursing the goddamn system a thousand times over.

A heavy knock echoed from the bedroom door.

"Mrs. Walton?" a timid voice called out. It was Maria, the maid. Her voice was trembling.

June opened her mouth, the gentle words 'It's alright' already on her tongue. Before she could speak, a blaring yellow warning flashed across her vision. "Warning. Deviation from 'toxic drama queen' persona detected."

June ground her back teeth together. She forced the muscles in her face to twist. She stared at the mirror and practiced a harsh, condescending eye roll.

She yanked the bathroom door open. She grabbed an obscenely expensive silk dressing gown, threw it over her shoulders, and tied the sash tight enough to bruise her ribs, needing the physical pressure to ground her panic.

She marched across the thick carpet, took a deep breath, and yanked the heavy mahogany door open. A rush of cold air swept into the hallway.

Maria stood there, holding a silver tray. The maid flinched so hard the porcelain coffee cup rattled against the saucer.

June crossed her arms over her chest. She looked down her nose at the woman. "Why are you making so much noise?" she demanded, her voice dripping with arrogance.

"I-I brought your morning black coffee, ma'am," Maria stuttered, her eyes glued to the floorboards.

June looked at the perfect, steaming cup of coffee. Her throat was parched. She wanted nothing more than to take it and say thank you.

A sharp, electric shock bit into her temple. The system's threat was clear.

June uncrossed her arms. She reached out and slapped the side of the cup.

The hot coffee flew across the hallway, splashing dark stains onto the pristine carpet. Maria dropped to her knees instantly, tears spilling over her eyelashes as she frantically apologized.

June stared down at the terrified woman. Her chest physically ached. She hid her hands inside the wide sleeves of her gown, digging her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke, desperately fighting the urge to drop down and help her clean it up.

She forced a cold scoff from her throat. "Clean up this garbage immediately," she snapped.

She stepped back and slammed the door shut in Maria's face.

June leaned her back against the heavy wood. She squeezed her eyes shut. Nausea rolled through her stomach at the cruelty she had just inflicted.

"Persona synchronization successful," the system announced. "Reward: 24 hours of lifespan."

The red numbers in her eyes shifted to 23:59:59. June slid down the door until she hit the floor.

"Main Quest 1," the system continued. "Serve your husband, Isaac Walton, with divorce papers immediately."

June's eyes snapped open, wide with absolute shock.

June pushed herself off the carpet. She walked over to the massive vanity and started tearing through the drawers.

She shoved velvet boxes of diamonds and pearls aside. The expensive jewelry crashed against the wood with harsh, metallic clatters.

At the very bottom of the last drawer, she found it. A blank Divorce Agreement drafted by Isaac's lawyers months ago. A thin layer of dust coated the crisp white paper.

June read the bold print. The clauses were brutal. She would walk away with absolutely nothing. She slammed the heavy stack of papers onto the vanity top.

She tried to speak to the system in her mind, begging for a different task. The red countdown timer simply flashed in her vision, a silent, deadly refusal.

June picked up the Montblanc pen. The heavy metal felt cold against her skin. Her wrist shook slightly as she hovered the gold nib over the signature line.

She remembered Isaac from the original host's memories. The man was a ruthless predator in the tech world. Swallowing hard, she forced her hand to steady and slashed her signature across the bottom of the page.

She grabbed the papers and marched into the walk-in closet. She bypassed the soft pastels and pulled a skin-tight, blood-red dress off the hanger. It was aggressive. It was armor.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she dragged a matching red lipstick across her mouth. She was preparing for war.

June pushed the bedroom door open. She stepped into her five-inch Christian Louboutins and walked toward the grand staircase, her heels clicking against the floor like a ticking clock.

The maids in the hallway pressed themselves against the walls, lowering their heads and holding their breath as she passed.

June reached the heavy oak doors of the first-floor study. She stopped. She took a deep breath, trying to slow the frantic hammering against her ribs.

She didn't knock. She grabbed the cold brass handle and shoved the heavy door open. The hinges let out a low groan.

The study was dim. Isaac sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his long fingers typing rapidly across a keyboard, illuminated only by the glow of his monitor.

At the sound of the door, his hands stopped. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were the color of Siberian ice, and they locked onto her with a physical weight.

June felt the impact of his stare in the back of her knees. Her calves cramped. She almost stumbled.

"Maintain arrogance!" the system shrieked in her head.

June forced her spine straight. She tilted her chin up.

She walked across the room, the sharp clack of her heels echoing off the wood paneling. She reached the desk and slammed the papers down. The sharp smack broke the heavy silence.

Isaac's gaze dropped from her face to the document. He read the words Divorce Agreement. A microscopic crease formed between his brows.

June leaned forward, planting both hands on the edge of his desk. She injected every ounce of disgust she could muster into her voice. "Sign it, Isaac. I'm sick of this hellhole."

Isaac didn't look at the papers again. He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his hands over his stomach. He looked at her the way a scientist observes a rat in a maze.

The silence stretched. The pressure in the room grew so heavy June felt it pressing against her eardrums. She fought the overwhelming urge to look away, forcing herself to hold his icy stare.

Isaac let out a low, dark chuckle. The sound vibrated through the quiet room, laced with pure danger.

He stood up. His massive frame instantly blocked the light from the window, casting a long, dark shadow that swallowed June whole.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to step back. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, forcing her feet to stay planted.

Isaac walked around the desk. He stopped less than a foot away from her, forcing her to crane her neck to maintain eye contact.

He raised his hand. His long, cold fingers clamped around her jaw. He forced her head up.

June gasped softly as her eyes met his. The temperature of his skin sent a violent shiver down her spine. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Isaac's voice was a low, gravelly rasp. "What game are you playing now, June? Do you want a higher allowance?"

The sheer contempt in his eyes felt like a physical slap, overriding her fear with a hot spike of humiliation. A blaring alarm echoed in her mind: [System Warning: Maintain arrogant persona!] The cold command gave her the desperate push she needed. She smacked his hand away from her face. "I'm serious!" she yelled.

Isaac stared at his empty hand. His eyes darkened to a terrifying shade of midnight blue. The air in the room stopped moving.

Isaac slowly lowered his hand. He brought his thumb up and dragged it slowly across the pad of his index finger. It was a subtle movement, but the original host's memories screamed that it meant he was pushed to the edge.

June saw the gesture. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. She instantly regretted slapping him.

Isaac lunged forward. He planted his hand on the edge of the desk right beside her hip, trapping her completely between his hard body and the solid wood.

He leaned down. His breath brushed across her cheek, smelling faintly of mint and expensive tobacco. It was an invasion of space that made her skin prickle.

June stopped breathing. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to press herself further into the wood to escape his heat.

Isaac used his free hand to pick up the divorce papers. He flipped through the first two pages, the corner of his mouth lifting into a cruel sneer.

He locked his blue eyes onto hers. His voice was terrifyingly soft. "Leaving with nothing? Since when did you become a martyr?"

June swallowed the lump of terror in her throat. She kept her chin tipped up. "Because I don't want to look at your face for one more second."

Isaac's eyes turned to absolute ice. He gripped the thick stack of papers with both hands.

June watched in stunned silence as he ripped the document straight down the middle. The sharp rip echoed in the quiet room.

Her eyes widened. The torn halves fluttered to the marble floor like dead leaves. Her brain flatlined.

Isaac crumpled the remaining page in his fist and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the bottom of the metal wastebasket with a heavy thud.

He straightened his posture, looking down at her frozen expression. He calmly adjusted his platinum cufflinks.

"If you're unhappy with your current situation, you can negotiate anything else," Isaac stated, his tone devoid of emotion. "But there will be no divorce scandals in the Walton family."

Panic flared in June's chest. "What if I cheat on you?" she blurted out. "Would you divorce me then?"

Isaac's gaze snapped to hers. His hand shot out, his long fingers gripping her narrow waist. He yanked her forward.

Her chest crashed against his solid chest. She felt the hard lines of his muscles through his tailored suit. Her eyes blew wide in sheer panic.

Isaac leaned in, his voice vibrating against her collarbone. "Try it. I will make sure the man disappears in LA forever."

The raw violence in his eyes paralyzed her. She forgot to push him away. She just stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his.

Isaac released her waist abruptly, as if touching her disgusted him. He turned his back on her and walked toward the heavy study doors.

He pulled the door open and paused. He didn't look back. "We have a charity gala tonight. Put on your fake smile."

He walked out. The heavy door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang that rattled the expensive paintings on the walls.

The suffocating pressure in the room vanished. June's knees gave out. She collapsed into Isaac's massive leather chair, her whole body shaking.

A cheerful chime echoed in her head. "Ding! Directive 'Serve Divorce Papers' has been executed. Target's response: Rejection. Lifespan reward issued."

June looked at the red numbers in her vision. Twenty-four hours were added. She let out a long, shaky breath. Her muscles felt like liquid.

She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the frantic beating of her heart. Isaac was a terrifying control freak.

She looked down at the shredded paper on the floor. The marriage was a cage, and the door was welded shut.

A sudden, piercing shriek echoed from the hallway, followed by the violent crash of shattering glass.

June flinched, her shoulders jumping toward her ears. Before she could even stand up, the system's red warning lights flooded her vision.

"Ding! Side Quest triggered: Discipline the spoiled child, Tristan, in the main hall. Requirement: Spank him three times. Failure results in immediate lifespan deduction!"

June dropped her face into her hands and groaned in absolute despair.