The Unwanted Wife's Ultimate Vengeful Return

Carlota Hall gripped the heavy satin fabric of her bridesmaid dress, her knuckles turning white. She walked fast down the dimly lit corridor of the Manhattan Plaza Hotel. The heavy bass from the engagement party in the main ballroom thumped against the walls, vibrating through the soles of her heels.

She needed to get away from the crowd. She needed air.

Suddenly, a violent wave of nausea hit her stomach. Carlota stopped dead in her tracks. She slapped her hand over her mouth, her chest heaving. She leaned her shoulder against the expensive silk wallpaper, bending forward as her stomach cramped painfully. She dry-heaved, her throat burning with stomach acid.

In the shadows of a marble Roman pillar at the end of the hall, Donavan Raymond stood perfectly still.

The glowing cherry of his cigar illuminated the sharp, cold lines of his jaw. He watched her shaking back, his eyes narrowing.

Carlota dug frantically into her small designer clutch. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out a mint and shoved it into her mouth. The sharp peppermint flavor coated her tongue, barely suppressing the sickness rising in her throat. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath.

A heavy thud echoed on the thick wool carpet.

Donavan's custom leather shoes made a muffled, deliberate sound. Step by step, he was closing the distance.

Carlota's eyes snapped open. The sound of his footsteps sent a jolt of pure panic straight to her heart. She straightened up instantly. She turned her body, her eyes darting toward the green exit sign over the stairwell.

She took one step.

Donavan lunged forward. His large, hot hand clamped down hard around her thin wrist.

The force of his grip jerked her backward. Carlota lost her balance. Her back slammed hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs.

Before she could slide away, Donavan raised his arm and planted his hand flat against the wall right next to her ear. His massive frame boxed her in completely. There was nowhere to run.

The heavy scent of expensive tobacco mixed with his dark, masculine cologne filled the narrow space. It suffocated her. Carlota stopped breathing. Her chest froze.

Donavan's gaze dropped. His eyes, sharp as a scalpel, dragged over the waistline of her dress. She had paid a tailor extra to let out the seams just enough to hide the slight, undeniable bump of her stomach.

"What were you gagging over out here?" Donavan asked.

His voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated against her skin.

Carlota forced her chin up. She looked away from his piercing stare, fixing her eyes on his silk tie.

"I drank too much champagne," she lied, her voice shaking. "My stomach is upset."

Donavan let out a harsh, humorless laugh. He reached out and grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He forced her head turn, making her look directly into his dark eyes.

"You haven't touched a single drop of alcohol all night," he stated flatly.

Carlota's breath hitched.

"And," Donavan continued, his voice dropping an octave, "I saw you walking out of the private OBGYN clinic on Park Avenue last week."

Carlota's pupils dilated in sheer terror. The federal HIPAA privacy laws in the United States strictly prevented doctors from releasing patient information to anyone. He couldn't have seen her medical records. He was guessing. He had to be guessing.

She brought both her hands up, grabbing his thick wrist. She dug her nails into his skin, trying to pry his iron grip off her face.

Donavan didn't flinch. He didn't move an inch. His eyes darkened with a violent storm of anger.

"Look at me and tell me the truth," Donavan demanded, his jaw ticking. "Is the bastard in your stomach mine?"

The memory of that chaotic night seven months ago crashed into her brain. The heat, the ripping of clothes, the desperate gasps in the dark. Carlota's eyes instantly filled with hot tears.

She bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper blood.

"No," Carlota said, her voice cracking but resolute. "It was an accident. It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

Donavan's fingers tightened on her jaw until it bruised. The veins in his neck bulged. The sheer rage of being lied to, the intense, possessive jealousy, radiated off him like heat from an oven.

The sharp clicking of high heels echoed from the other end of the corridor.

"Donavan?"

Harper Cantu's sweet, high-pitched voice rang out. She turned the corner, wearing a custom-made, diamond-encrusted engagement gown.

Carlota felt Donavan's grip loosen for a fraction of a second. She used every ounce of strength in her body and shoved both her hands hard against his solid chest.

Donavan didn't step back. Instead, his arm shot out. He wrapped his hand around the small of her back and yanked her flush against his hard body.

Harper stopped walking. The fake, sweet smile on her face completely froze. Her eyes locked onto their intimately close bodies. Pure, venomous hatred flashed in her eyes.

Harper quickly recovered. She walked toward them, forcing her lips to curve upward.

"What are you two doing out here?" Harper asked, her voice tight.

Carlota pushed against Donavan's chest again, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"I almost slipped on the carpet," Carlota lied quickly, her voice breathless. "My future brother-in-law was just catching me."

Donavan didn't even look at Carlota. He turned his head slowly and stared blankly at Harper.

"The engagement ceremony is postponed," Donavan announced coldly.

Harper's eyes widened in horror. Her perfectly manicured nails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin broke.

"Donavan, wait, what are you saying-"

Donavan ignored her completely. He grabbed Carlota by the upper arm. His grip was brutal. He dragged her away from the wall, pulling her toward the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP lounge a few feet away.

"Let me go!" Carlota gasped, stumbling over her heels as he pulled her.

Donavan kicked the VIP lounge door open, dragging her inside into the dimly lit gloom. The faint amber light from the hallway barely pierced the shadows of the room.

Donavan shoved Carlota hard into the VIP lounge. He reached back to slam the heavy mahogany double doors shut.

Harper reacted with lightning speed. Just as the door was about to click into the frame, she threw her body weight against the wood, squeezing herself through the narrow gap.

Donavan shot Harper a look so cold it could freeze boiling water. He didn't say a word to her. He walked straight to the center of the room and sat down heavily on the black leather sofa. His dark aura filled every corner of the room.

Carlota rubbed her red, throbbing wrist. She leaned her back against the door panel, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for another exit. There was none.

Harper rushed over to Carlota. She grabbed Carlota's hands, wearing a mask of deep concern.

"Carlota, honey, what is going on?" Harper asked sweetly.

Beneath the cover of their joined hands, Harper's sharp acrylic nails dug viciously into the soft flesh of Carlota's hand.

Carlota gasped in pain. Her eyebrows pulled together, but she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to cry out in front of Donavan.

Donavan pulled his sleek smartphone from his suit pocket. He dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Bring the portable ultrasound machine to the Plaza Hotel, top floor VIP lounge. Now," Donavan ordered his private doctor. He hung up before the man could reply.

All the blood drained from Carlota's face. Her skin turned the color of ash. A portable ultrasound. He was going to strip her down and check the gestational age right here. If the doctor saw the fetus was exactly seven months along, the lie would be over.

Harper kept her fake smile plastered on her face. "Donavan, please don't scare my little sister like this."

While she spoke, Harper's eyes dropped, staring intensely at Carlota's stomach.

Carlota violently ripped her hands out of Harper's grip. She spun around, grabbing the brass doorknob, twisting it frantically.

Donavan stood up. In two long strides, he crossed the room. He slammed his large palm flat against the wood right above Carlota's head. His body pressed against her back, trapping her completely between the door and his chest.

He lowered his head. His hot breath brushed against her trembling eyelashes.

"You aren't leaving this room," Donavan whispered, his voice a lethal threat.

Harper watched them, her jealousy burning a hole in her stomach. She walked up beside them, forcing tears into her eyes.

"Carlota, what are you hiding from us?" Harper cried, her voice trembling.

Carlota took a deep, shuddering breath. She tilted her head back, meeting Donavan's furious gaze.

"I told you," Carlota said, her voice tight. "The baby is not yours."

Donavan sneered. "When the doctor gets here and draws your blood for a DNA test, your lies will end."

Suddenly, a low, steady mechanical hum sounded from the hallway. The noise stopped right outside the VIP lounge.

The brass doorknob under Carlota's hand began to turn from the outside.

Donavan frowned. He stepped back just a fraction of an inch, loosening his trap.

The heavy door was pushed open.

Jared Pierce sat in his custom-built, high-tech electric wheelchair. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit. His eyes were calm, warm, but carried an undeniable weight of authority as he looked into the room.

Carlota gasped. Surprise flashed across her face, instantly replaced by a desperate, burning need for rescue.

Jared pushed the joystick on his armrest. The wheelchair glided smoothly into the room, stopping directly between Carlota and Donavan.

Donavan looked down at Jared. A cruel smirk twisted his lips.

"The crippled heir of the Pierce family is joining the drama?" Donavan mocked, adjusting his cufflinks.

Jared didn't flinch. He tilted his head up, meeting Donavan's aggressive stare without an ounce of fear.

"Let go of my fiancée," Jared said. His voice was quiet, but it echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.

The air in the VIP lounge instantly turned to ice.

Harper gasped out loud, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide with shock.

Donavan's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. The muscles in his jaw locked. His dark eyes darted violently between Jared's calm face and Carlota's pale one.

Jared turned his wheelchair slightly. He reached out and gently took Carlota's trembling hand in his warm one.

"Don't be afraid," Jared murmured to her.

Jared looked back at Donavan. He spoke clearly, making sure every word landed heavily in the room.

"The child Carlota is carrying belongs to me."

A violent tremor ripped through Carlota's body. She looked down at Jared. He gave her hand a subtle, reassuring squeeze. She swallowed the lump of panic in her throat. She bit her lip and nodded, confirming the massive lie.

Donavan's hands curled into fists at his sides. The thick blue veins on the back of his hands bulged against his skin. He felt like he had been slapped across the face. The humiliation and rage boiled in his blood.

Harper immediately jumped in, her voice dripping with fake relief.

"Oh my god, Carlota! Why didn't you tell us? This is wonderful news!" Harper clapped her hands together, desperate to cement this lie into reality.

Donavan let out a dark, terrifying laugh. He spun around and kicked the heavy glass coffee table. The table shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the expensive rug.

"Notify the press that the engagement is indefinitely postponed, and have the legal team prepare to dissolve the prenuptial contract," Donavan roared.

He didn't look back. He stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him with a deafening crash.

The heavy mahogany door vibrated in its frame from the force of Donavan's exit. The air in the VIP lounge felt thick, suffocating.

Harper let out a long, exaggerated sigh. The fake sweetness melted off her face instantly.

She walked up to Carlota, leaning in close. Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "Don't ever think you can use a bastard to climb into high society. You are nothing."

Jared pushed his joystick. The wheelchair rolled forward, placing its metal footrest directly between Harper and Carlota, forcing Harper to step back.

"Get out," Jared commanded, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Harper sneered at him. She lifted the hem of her diamond-encrusted gown and marched out of the room, desperate to find Donavan and secure her position.

The moment the door clicked shut, the adrenaline left Carlota's body. Her knees buckled. She slid down the silk-lined wall, hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

Jared reached into the side compartment of his wheelchair. He pulled out a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and held it out to her.

Carlota took it. Her fingers were freezing and shaking violently. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice raw.

Jared watched her pale face. His expression was serious. "Who is the real father of that child, Carlota?"

Carlota gripped the plastic bottle so hard it crinkled. She looked at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes. "A stranger. A guy I met at a bar. I don't even know his name."

A flicker of deep disappointment crossed Jared's eyes, but he didn't push her. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek business card.

Before he could hand it to her, Carlota's phone buzzed loudly in her clutch.

She pulled it out. The screen lit up with a text message from the billing department of Mount Sinai Hospital. It was a final notice. If the $150,000 balance for her younger brother Graham's experimental ventilator treatment wasn't paid by midnight, they would pull the plug.

Carlota stared at the numbers. A hot tear slipped down her cheek, splashing onto the screen. The crushing weight of absolute despair pushed her head down.

Jared glanced at the glowing screen. He read the text.

"I will pay all of Graham's medical bills," Jared said evenly. "Every single cent."

Carlota's head snapped up. She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and immediate suspicion. "What do you want in return?"

Jared pulled a thick manila envelope from the back pouch of his wheelchair. He handed it to her.

Carlota pulled out the stack of crisp white papers. The bold black letters at the top read: Contract of Marriage.

"I need a wife," Jared explained calmly. "The Pierce family trust fund stipulates that I must be married by my thirtieth birthday to inherit my shares. My stepmother is trying to force me to marry her niece to control me. You need money. I need a shield."

Carlota quickly scanned the clauses. The contract was for one year. It explicitly stated they would not interfere in each other's private lives. And, most importantly, it promised absolute physical and legal protection from outside threats.

She hesitated. Her stomach churned. Signing this meant cementing the lie that the baby was his. It meant drawing the wrath of the powerful Pierce family onto herself.

Jared rolled his wheelchair a few inches closer. "It is the only way you can permanently escape Donavan Raymond. You know he won't stop hunting you."

A violent shiver ran down Carlota's spine at the mention of Donavan's name. She remembered the dark, obsessive rage in his eyes. Her mental defenses crumbled into dust.

She closed her eyes. The image of her little brother, Graham, lying in a sterile hospital bed with tubes down his throat flashed in her mind.

Carlota opened her eyes. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, hard determination. She held out her hand. "Give me a pen."

Jared handed her a silver fountain pen.

Carlota flipped to the last page. She pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name with heavy, sharp strokes.

Jared took the contract back, a faint smile of relief touching his lips. "We go to City Hall tomorrow morning to register."

He took off his tailored navy suit jacket and draped it over Carlota's shivering shoulders. The fabric was warm.

Jared led her out of the hotel through a private underground service elevator, completely avoiding the paparazzi swarming the main lobby.

Sitting in the back of Jared's armored Maybach, Carlota stared out the tinted window. The neon lights of the New York skyline blurred as they sped away. Her stomach tied in knots.

At that exact moment, in the penthouse suite of the Plaza Hotel, Donavan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window.

His special assistant stood nervously behind him, reporting that Jared and Carlota had left together in a private car.

Donavan squeezed the crystal whiskey glass in his hand. The glass shattered. Sharp shards sliced deep into his palm. Blood dripped onto the pristine white carpet.

He didn't even blink.

"Investigate every single place Carlota Hall went, every person she spoke to, exactly seven months ago," Donavan ordered, his voice dripping with lethal intent. "Leave no stone unturned."