The Unwanted Wife And Her Secret Empire

Irena opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through her lower body the moment she tried to move. She sucked in a harsh breath. Her stomach rolled with a violent wave of nausea, and her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. The heavy silk blanket slipped down her chest. The cold air hit her skin, making her shiver. She looked down. Her pale skin was covered in dark red marks. Her brain stopped working. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

Then, the memories hit her. They did not belong to her. They crashed into her skull with the force of a physical blow. Images of a life she had never lived played behind her eyes. She saw a cruel father. She saw an old, disgusting man she was supposed to marry. She saw a desperate plan. She realized she was no longer in her own body. She had woken up in the body of a woman named Irena.

She turned her head slowly. The mattress dipped next to her. A man was lying there. His broad back was facing her. The muscles under his skin were tense even in sleep. She recognized the sharp line of his jaw and the dark hair from the memories that had just forced their way into her mind. This was Evertt Barton. The heir to the Barton family. The man this body had trapped into marriage.

Irena grabbed the edge of the silk blanket and pulled it up to her chin. Her knuckles turned white. She needed to think. The memories told her that last night, both of them had been drugged. It was a powerful chemical. The empty glasses on the nightstand and the clothes torn and thrown on the floor were the physical proof of what had happened.

Evertt shifted. His eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown. His thick eyelashes fluttered. He was waking up.

Irena stopped breathing. She pressed her back against the large headboard. She kept her eyes locked on his face. She watched the exact moment consciousness returned to him.

Evertt opened his eyes. For one second, they were cloudy. Then, the haze vanished. His dark eyes turned into solid ice. A visible wave of anger radiated from his body. He sat up fast. He did not care that the blanket fell away from his waist. He turned his upper body and glared down at her.

He let out a short, harsh laugh. The sound scraped against the quiet room. "Another cheap trick, Irena?" His voice was low and rough. "You think slipping something into my drink again will secure your place as Mrs. Barton?"

Irena met his stare. The original owner of this body would have cried. She would have shaken with fear. Irena did not. She kept her facial muscles completely relaxed. Her eyes were clear and steady.

"If I were going to drug you," Irena said, her voice dry but completely calm, "I would not do it in my own private suite where I have no way to defend myself."

Evertt did not listen. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He threw the blanket off his legs and stepped onto the thick carpet. He walked across the room and picked up a dark robe from the floor. He shoved his arms into the sleeves and tied the belt tightly around his waist.

He walked over to the small bar in the corner of the room. He grabbed a crystal glass and filled it with ice water. He drank it all in three large swallows. He was trying to flush the remaining heat of the drug from his blood. He was trying to cool his absolute rage.

Irena used this moment to look around. The room was huge. The furniture was heavy and expensive. The physical evidence of their night together was everywhere. A torn piece of lace. A broken cufflink.

Evertt slammed the empty glass down on the marble counter. The loud crack made Irena flinch slightly, but she quickly hid it.

He turned around. His upper lip curled in disgust. "Get up," he ordered. "Go wash yourself. I cannot stand looking at you right now."

Irena did not argue. Arguing with a furious man was a waste of energy. She stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Her legs shook. Her knees almost gave out from the soreness in her thighs.

Evertt's hand twitched at his side, as if his instinct was to catch her. But he pulled his arm back instantly. His eyes narrowed. "Save the acting. It will not get you any sympathy."

Irena steadied her feet on the floor. She ignored his words. She kept her spine straight and walked past him toward the large bathroom doors.

She walked into the bathroom and shut the heavy door behind her. She leaned her back against the solid wood. She let out a long, shaky breath. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt her ribs. She forced herself to take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She needed to analyze her situation. She was in a hostile environment, tied to a man who hated her.

She walked over to the glass shower. She turned the handle all the way to cold. She stepped under the spray. The freezing water hit her skin like tiny needles. It washed away the sweat and the smell of him. It shocked her nervous system into absolute focus.

Outside in the bedroom, Evertt paced across the floor. His bare feet made no sound on the carpet. He walked over to the bedside table and picked up the landline phone. He pressed a button. "Bring a clean suit to my study," he barked into the receiver. "Now."

He looked at the messy bed. His stomach tightened with a mixture of disgust and a strange, heavy frustration he could not name. He turned and walked out of the bedroom, heading down the hall to his study.

Half an hour later, Irena walked out of the bathroom. She had found a long, conservative silk robe in the closet. She tied it securely. Her hair was damp and combed back. Her eyes held no emotion.

She walked out of the bedroom and down the long, quiet hallway. She followed the layout from the memories in her head. She reached the heavy oak doors of Evertt's study. She pushed them open.

Evertt was already dressed. He wore a dark, custom-tailored suit. The fabric fit perfectly across his broad shoulders. He looked like the military contractor he was. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous.

He looked up from his desk. He adjusted his silver cufflink. His eyes locked onto hers.

"Sit down," he commanded. "We are going to talk about this damn prenuptial agreement."

Irena walked forward. Her bare feet made soft sounds on the hardwood floor. She pulled out the leather chair across from his desk and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap. She was ready.

Irena sat in the heavy leather chair. The study smelled of old paper, leather, and the faint scent of Evertt's sharp cologne. The room was designed to intimidate. Dark wood panels covered the walls. The desk between them was massive. While waiting for him to look up, her sharp eyes caught the edge of a financial newspaper spread out near a stack of files. The bold headline screamed about the Barton Group's unstable stock following rumors of a rift in the family.

Evertt sat behind the desk. He held a gold fountain pen between his long fingers. He spun it slowly. His dark eyes analyzed her face, looking for weakness.

Irena looked right back at him. She did not lower her chin. She did not look away.

Evertt stopped spinning the pen. He picked up a thick stack of papers from the corner of his desk. He threw the file across the smooth wood. It slid and stopped right in front of Irena.

"The terms of the prenuptial agreement remain exactly the same," Evertt said. His voice was flat. "Two years. When the time is up, we divorce. You leave."

He leaned forward. He placed his elbows on the desk. "Do not think last night changes anything. If you end up pregnant from that little stunt, you will not use a child to blackmail the Barton family. I will take the kid, and you will never see it."

Irena reached out and opened the file. The paper felt thick and expensive under her fingertips. She scanned the pages quickly. She saw the strict non-disclosure clauses. She saw the paragraphs stating she would give up all claims to Barton assets.

She let out a short, quiet laugh. She closed the file and pushed it back toward the center of the desk. "I completely agree to the two-year timeline. I want the divorce just as much as you do."

Evertt's eyebrows pulled together. A flash of surprise crossed his face. He had expected tears. He had expected her to beg for a real marriage.

"However," Irena continued, her voice steady. "I want to change the financial settlement."

Evertt's face hardened instantly. The surprise vanished, replaced by deep disgust. "There it is," he sneered. "The real reason you are sitting there. You finally show your true colors. You are just a gold digger."

Irena did not react to the insult. Her heart rate did not increase. "Call it what you want. But let us look at the facts. The Barton Group's stock has been unstable this week. I saw the financial paper on your desk. If a massive scandal about your marriage falling apart hits the news right now, your shareholders will panic. The financial loss to your company will be much higher than what I am about to ask for."

Evertt narrowed his eyes. He stared at the woman sitting across from him. She looked the same, but the way she spoke was entirely different. The pathetic, nervous girl was gone.

He leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his suit pulled tight across his biceps. "How much do you want?"

Irena raised her right hand. She held up five fingers. She stated a number. It was an astronomical figure. It was enough money to buy a small island.

Evertt let out a harsh breath through his nose. "You are greedy." He looked at her hand, then back to her face. But he knew she was right. To the Barton family, that amount of money was nothing. It was a drop in the ocean. If paying it meant getting rid of her quietly in two years, it was a good deal.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands flat on the desk. "Fine. I agree to the number."

Irena nodded once.

"But," Evertt added, his voice dropping an octave. "There are conditions. For the rest of these two years, you will behave perfectly. You will attend every public relations event the family requires. You will smile for the cameras. You will play the part of the happy wife. If you embarrass me once, you get nothing."

"Deal," Irena answered immediately. "I consider it a job. You pay me, I do the work. It is basic professional ethics."

Evertt felt a sudden, sharp irritation in his chest. He did not like the way she reduced their marriage to a simple business transaction. He reached out and pressed a button on the intercom sitting on his desk.

"Legal," he barked. "Bring the standard non-disclosure and settlement templates to my study immediately."

He took his finger off the button. The silence in the room became heavy. Neither of them spoke. Evertt stared at the window. Irena looked at the gold pen on the desk.

Half an hour later, a nervous man in a gray suit knocked and entered the study. He was the head of the legal department. He placed the templates on the desk. Evertt dictated the specific financial terms with sharp, clipped words while the lawyer rapidly filled in the blanks. Once finished, the lawyer slid the newly drafted, single-page document across the wood. He handed Evertt a pen.

Evertt signed his name with aggressive, sharp strokes. He pushed the paper to Irena.

Irena picked up the pen. She did not read the new document. She simply signed her name at the bottom. The scratch of the pen on the paper was the only sound in the room.

Evertt watched her hand move. His frown deepened. She was too calm. It bothered him.

Irena put the pen down. She stood up. She smoothed the front of her silk robe. She turned toward the door.

Just as her hand touched the brass doorknob, she stopped. She looked back over her shoulder. "Make sure the first installment of the money is wired to my trust account by tomorrow morning."

Evertt's jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck stood out. "Get out of my sight," he growled.

Irena shrugged her shoulders. She turned the knob, walked out of the study, and pulled the heavy doors shut behind her.

Evertt stared at the closed door. He looked down at the signed paper on his desk. His chest felt tight. He reached up and loosened his tie, pulling the silk knot down roughly. He stood up and walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out over the massive green lawns of the Barton estate. His anger had not disappeared. It had just changed into something darker and more confusing.

Irena walked quickly down the long hallway. She reached her room and stepped inside. She pushed the door shut and turned the lock until it clicked.

The moment the lock engaged, she let out a long breath. Her shoulders dropped. The rigid posture she had held in the study finally relaxed. She walked over to the velvet sofa near the window and sat down heavily. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. Her head was throbbing.

She needed to sort through the chaotic fragments of memory in her brain. She closed her eyes. The images played like a movie projected on the inside of her eyelids.

She saw the Hendricks family. It was the original owner's family. They lived in a massive stone house in the capital, but the inside was cold and rotting. She saw Eliot Hendricks, the father. He always had a glass of liquor in his hand. His eyes were always red and unfocused. He never looked at his daughter with love.

Then she saw her maternal uncle. Axel Love. He was the one who controlled the family money. The memories showed a dark, wood-paneled room. Axel was shouting about debts and empty bank accounts. He pointed a thick finger at the original Irena. He told her she was going to marry a man named Arthur Vance.

The memory shifted. Irena saw Arthur Vance. He was an old, fat merchant. His skin was sweaty. His eyes moved over the original Irena's body like she was a piece of meat. The memory brought a physical wave of nausea to Irena's stomach. She remembered the rumors. Arthur Vance had beaten his first two wives to death.

She saw the original Irena falling to her knees in front of her father. She felt the cold marble floor against her skin. She heard her own voice begging for help. Eliot Hendricks just took another drink and turned his back.

Despair filled the memory. Total, suffocating despair. The original Irena knew she would die if she married Vance. She needed a shield. She needed someone powerful enough to make the Hendricks family back off.

She chose Evertt Barton.

Irena opened her eyes. She dropped her hands to her lap. The lingering guilt she felt about taking over this body vanished. The original Irena was not a greedy woman trying to steal money. She was a terrified girl trying to survive.

Irena looked out the window at the elaborate water fountain in the courtyard. She felt a deep respect for the girl who used to own this body. "I will live a good life for both of us," she whispered to the empty room.

She stood up and walked over to the small writing desk. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a notebook with gold edges. She picked up a pencil. She needed a plan.

She pressed the pencil to the paper. First, she needed to take the massive divorce settlement and invest it. She needed to build her own businesses. Second, she had to cut all ties with the Hendricks family. They would not get a single penny from her. Third, she needed to stay quiet and invisible in the Barton estate until the two years were over.

She finished writing the last sentence. Suddenly, a loud, frantic knocking hit her bedroom door.

Irena stopped. She put the pencil down. She closed the notebook and shoved it back into the drawer. She took a deep breath, smoothing her facial expression into a blank mask.

She walked to the door and unlocked it. She pulled it open. A young maid in a black and white uniform stood there. The girl was breathing fast. Her eyes were wide with panic.

"Madam," the maid stuttered. "Miss Jada is downstairs in the main hall. She brought her daughter, Peggy. She is making a terrible scene."

Irena searched the memories in her head. Jada Wray. Evertt's cousin. A woman who loved drama and hated Irena.

"What is she doing?" Irena asked. Her voice was calm.

"She is crying to the head butler," the maid said, wringing her hands together. "She is saying that you bullied little Peggy yesterday."

Irena let out a short, cold laugh. Jada was trying to kick her while she was down. Jada thought Irena was still the weak, hated wife who would just take the abuse.

"Show me the way," Irena said. She did not hesitate. Hiding in her room would only make the servants lose respect for her.

Irena stepped out of the room. She walked down the hallway. Her low heels clicked steadily against the polished wood floor. She followed the maid to the top of the grand, sweeping staircase.

She stopped at the landing. She looked down into the massive entrance hall. The sound of a woman crying echoed off the high ceiling.

Irena stood perfectly still. She looked down at Jada Wray, who was putting on a terrible performance. Irena crossed her arms over her chest. She was ready for the fight.