Too Late To Beg: The Unwanted Wife Is An Heiress

I gave up my twenty-billion-dollar inheritance to become a nobody, just so my husband Ignatz could shine without being overshadowed.

But after five years of silence and sacrifice, he held my hands across his desk and begged me to go to prison.

"I need you to say you were driving the car," he pleaded.

His mistress, Everleigh, had committed a hit-and-run. To save her career, he wanted his pregnant wife to take the fall.

When I told him I was carrying his child, he didn't celebrate. He just looked annoyed and asked me to protect "us"-by which he meant her.

The stress and the secret abuse from his mother caused me to miscarry alone in a freezing apartment.

While I was bleeding out, losing the only thing that mattered, Ignatz was on a live broadcast, proposing to Everleigh with a diamond the size of a quail egg.

He didn't know that Everleigh had a hysterectomy years ago and could never give him the family he claimed to want.

He didn't know he had just killed his only real child to protect a liar.

I didn't cry. I simply placed the ultrasound photo and my diary on the cake table at his engagement party.

Then I accepted a job in Florence and vanished.

Five years later, when he finally found me and slashed his own wrist to prove his regret, I looked at him with dead eyes.

"You're at the wrong house, Ignatz," I said, closing the door. "There is nothing here for you to fix."

Chapter 1

Genevieve POV

Ignatz held my hands across the expanse of his mahogany desk. His grip was tight enough to bruise, but his eyes were wide, pleading, and desperate.

"I need you to say you were driving the car, Genevieve."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating, sucking the oxygen right out of the room. I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the request. It felt like a physical blow.

My hand moved instinctively to my lower abdomen, where a life had been quietly growing for three months. A life he barely acknowledged, and now, perhaps, never would.

"You want me to take the blame for a hit-and-run?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"It was a minor accident," Ignatz said quickly, leaning closer. His cologne, a scent of sandalwood and ambition that I used to associate with safety, now smelled cloying. It smelled like betrayal.

"No one was seriously hurt," he pressed on. "But if the press finds out it was Everleigh, her career is over. She is just starting to shine, Gen. You know how fragile her reputation is."

I pulled my hands away, the sudden loss of contact making me shiver. The coldness of the sterile office seeped into my bones.

"What about my reputation?" I asked, my voice gaining a fraction of strength. "What about me?"

"You are not in the public eye," he countered. His tone softened, slipping into that manipulative sweetness I had once mistaken for love. "You are just an architect, Genevieve. A private citizen. It would be a fine, maybe some community service. I will pay for everything. I will make it up to you."

Just an architect.

The words cut deeper than any knife.

Five years ago, I was Genevieve Foley. I was the heiress to a twenty-billion-dollar empire. I had the world at my feet, doors opening before I even reached for the handle.

But I gave it all up.

I walked away from my father, my inheritance, and my name, all to be with Ignatz. I became Genevieve Ball. I lived in the shadows, shrinking myself so he could shine without the pressure of my family's wealth overshadowing him.

And now, to him, I was just a disposable shield for another woman.

Ignatz stood up and walked around the desk. He looked impeccable in his tailored navy suit, his career soaring, his face gracing magazine covers. Time had been kind to him. It had polished him into a diamond.

But looking at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass window, I saw a stranger. A woman worn down by years of silence and sacrifice. My eyes were tired. My skin was pale.

"Please, Gen," he said, standing behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, the weight of them familiar yet foreign. "Do this for us. For our future. Once this blows over, we can finally focus on us. Everleigh will be so grateful. We all will be."

Our future.

He had been promising me that future for five years. It was a carrot on a stick, always dangling just out of reach, forcing me to run faster, work harder, tolerate more.

I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat. It was the morning sickness, or maybe it was just him.

"I'm pregnant, Ignatz," I said, my voice flat.

The silence that followed was deafening. I waited for a gasp, a hug, a realization.

"Do you really want the mother of your child to have a criminal record?"

His fingers tightened on my shoulders for a second-a spasm of annoyance-then relaxed. He let out a sigh that sounded dangerously like impatience.

"It won't come to that," he said dismissively. "My lawyers will handle it. You won't see the inside of a cell. Just... help me protect her. Please."

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted from desperation to immediate, tender concern.

It was her.

"I have to take this," he said, already turning away from me.

I stood there, invisible in the room I had helped design. I watched him answer the phone, his voice dropping to a soothing murmur.

"It's okay, Eve. I'm handling it. Don't cry. I will fix it."

He didn't look at me. He didn't see me.

I turned and walked out of the office. His assistant, a woman who modeled her style after Everleigh right down to the shade of blonde highlights, barely glanced up from her computer.

"Mr. Turner is busy," she said dismissively into her headset, ignoring my presence entirely. To her, I was just the personal assistant, the shadow, the nobody.

My phone rang as I reached the elevator. It was Meredith, Ignatz's mother.

"Genevieve," she said without preamble. Her voice was ice.

"Ignatz told me about the situation. You need to be careful when you leave the building. There are reporters outside looking for the driver. Don't say anything. Just keep your head down. We cannot have any scandal attaching to Ignatz right now."

She didn't ask how I was. She didn't ask if I was okay with taking the fall for a crime I didn't commit. She just wanted to make sure her golden son remained pristine.

"I understand, Meredith," I said.

"Good. And Genevieve? Don't mention the... relationship. You know how the media twists things. Ignatz is finally getting the recognition he deserves. We don't need your family drama or your status complicating things."

My family drama. The drama of me giving up everything for her son.

I hung up without saying goodbye. The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into the lobby. I felt dizzy. The stress was taking a physical toll on my body.

I wanted to call Ignatz. I wanted to tell him I needed a ride home, that I didn't feel well, that I was scared. But I knew he wouldn't answer. He was too busy comforting Everleigh.

I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of my small, rented apartment. It was a far cry from the mansions I grew up in, but it was the only place I could afford on the salary I earned as "Genevieve Ball."

The apartment was cold when I arrived. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the peeling paint on the wall.

Through the thin walls, I could hear my neighbors talking in the hallway.

"Did you see the news?" one of them said. "Ignatz Turner and Everleigh were spotted at the gala last night. They look so perfect together."

"Yeah," the other replied. "I heard he's going to propose soon."

I clenched my hands into fists. My nails dug into my palms, the pain sharp and grounding.

Propose.

He was asking me to go to jail for her while the world waited for him to marry her.

My laptop sat on the small desk in the corner. The screen blinked, notifying me of a new email. It was sent to my old, encrypted address, the one only a handful of people knew.

I opened it.

It was from a prestigious architectural firm in Florence, Italy.

Dear Ms. Foley,

We have admired your portfolio from your university days for years. We understand you have been on a hiatus, but a position has opened up for a lead architect on a historic restoration project. We would be honored if you would consider it.

I stared at the words. Ms. Foley.

Not Ms. Ball. They remembered who I was before I erased myself.

I looked around the dim apartment. I thought about the police station Ignatz wanted me to walk into tomorrow. I thought about the baby growing inside me, a baby whose father viewed us as nothing more than collateral damage.

Ignatz loved Everleigh. He loved his career. He loved his mother.

There was no room left for me.

I didn't cry. The tears had dried up years ago, somewhere between the second and third year of waiting for a future that never came.

I placed my hands on the keyboard. My fingers didn't tremble.

I typed a single word.

Accepted.

Genevieve POV

The screen of my phone was cracked, a spiderweb of glass fracturing Ignatz's face.

He was down on one knee. The setting was the rooftop of the Foley Tech building-the very building I had designed, though you wouldn't find my name on the brass plaque in the lobby. He held a diamond the size of a quail egg, beaming up at Everleigh with a look of absolute adoration.

"I promise to protect you," he vowed in the video. "To cherish you. You are my only truth."

The clip already had five million views.

I sat on the curb outside my apartment building, the cold concrete seeping through the denim of my jeans. I had packed the last box an hour ago. My flight to Florence was in two days. I was just waiting for the courage to stand up and walk away from the wreckage of the last five years.

A black sedan screeched to a halt in front of me.

I didn't flinch. I knew that engine's growl. I knew exactly how he drove when he was angry or panicked.

Ignatz got out. He looked like he had stepped right out of the video-impeccable suit, hair perfectly styled, the scent of expensive sandalwood hitting me before he even spoke. But his eyes were frantic.

"Genevieve," he breathed, rushing toward me. "I've been calling you. Why is your phone off?"

I looked at him. I really looked at him. He was a stranger.

"I was watching your performance," I said, holding up the shattered phone. "Oscar-worthy."

He flinched. "That... that is just PR, Gen. You know how the industry works. Everleigh needs this boost right now. It's not real."

"It looked real," I said flatly. "The diamond looked real."

He reached for my hand, but I pulled back. He looked hurt, as if I were the one betraying him.

"I love her, Gen," he said, his voice dropping to that earnest whisper that used to make my knees weak. "But I care about you. I feel responsible for you. We have a history. I can't just let you... drift away."

"You love her," I repeated. "But you want me to stay in the shadows. To take the blame for her crimes. To be your backup plan."

"It's not like that," he insisted. "I want to take care of you. I want you to be part of my life. Just... in a different capacity."

He was trying to have both. The public princess and the secret servant.

"Ignatz," I said, my voice steady. "How have I been? Do you even know?"

He blinked, thrown off by the question. "I... I assume you're fine. Meredith said you were resting."

"Resting." I laughed, a dry, brittle sound that scraped my throat. "I was bleeding out on a bathroom floor while you were buying that ring."

His face went slack. "What?"

"I lost the baby, Ignatz," I said. The words tasted like ash. "The stress. The malnutrition. The fact that the father of my child asked me to go to jail for his girlfriend. My body couldn't take it. You killed it."

He took a step back, staggering as if I had physically struck him. Color drained from his face. "No. That's... you're lying. You said you were fine."

"I lied," I said. "Because the truth didn't matter to you."

For a second, I saw it. A crack in the armor. A flash of genuine horror in his eyes. He opened his mouth, his hand reaching out, trembling.

"Gen, I-"

"Ignatz!"

The shrill voice cut through the air like a siren.

The passenger door flew open, and Everleigh stepped out. She was wearing white, of course. She always wore white to look innocent.

She rushed to his side, grabbing his arm, her nails digging into his suit jacket.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she cried, looking at him, then turning her gaze to me. Her eyes were cold, dead things. "Genevieve. What are you doing to him? He's under so much pressure right now."

Ignatz looked between us. He looked at my pale face, then at Everleigh's tear-filled eyes. The horror in his expression faded, replaced by the familiar, pathetic instinct to protect her.

"She's upset," Ignatz muttered, putting a hand over Everleigh's.

Everleigh stepped forward. She opened her designer purse and pulled out a checkbook.

"Look, sister," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I know it's hard. Living in a place like this... it must be awful. We want to help."

She scribbled something and ripped the paper out with a sharp zip. She held it toward me.

"Here," she said. "Get yourself a nice apartment. Buy some new clothes. Stop bothering Ignatz."

I looked at the check. It was for ten thousand dollars.

Ten thousand dollars for five years of my life. For my inheritance. For my dead child.

"I don't need your charity," I said.

"Take it," Everleigh hissed, stepping closer so only I could hear. "You're pathetic. He doesn't want you. He never did. You were just a placeholder until I was ready."

She smirked, then suddenly gasped. She stumbled back, clutching her stomach.

"Ow! Ignatz!" she screamed. "She pushed me! My baby!"

It was a lie. I hadn't moved an inch.

But Ignatz didn't look at me. He didn't ask for the truth. He spun around and caught her, his face twisted in panic.

"Eve! Are you okay?"

"She's crazy!" Everleigh sobbed into his chest. "She's jealous! Get me away from her!"

Ignatz looked at me over her shoulder. His eyes were hard. Accusing. The guilt from moments ago was gone, buried under his blind loyalty to her.

"Stay away from us, Genevieve," he spat.

I stood there, the wind biting through my thin shirt.

"Is this your love, Ignatz?" I asked quietly. "Is this what you sacrificed me for?"

He didn't answer. He just held her tighter.

Genevieve POV

He guided Everleigh into the car as if she were made of spun glass. She kept wailing-a performance aimed at an audience of one.

Ignatz slammed the car door shut, severing the invisible connection between us. He didn't look back. With a roar of the engine, the black sedan sped away, leaving me choking in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

Silence rushed back in to fill the space they left.

It started to snow. Tiny, icy flakes landed on my cheeks, melting instantly against the feverish heat of my skin.

I should have felt angry. I should have been screaming. But instead, a strange, heavy calm settled over me. It was the hollow calm of a patient who finally accepts the terminal diagnosis. The hope was dead. The tumor had been excised.

I was free.

I turned and walked back into the building, trudging up the stairs that smelled of damp carpet and old cooking oil.

My apartment was empty. Just a mattress on the floor and a few scattered boxes. I sat by the window. From here, if I craned my neck, I could see the distant lights of the Foley estate on the hill. My father's house. Ignatz and Meredith were living in the guest villa now.

I imagined them there. Meredith fawning over Everleigh, bringing her tea, praising her for being the perfect match for her son. They were celebrating.

I remembered being ten years old, scraping my knee in the garden. My father had been too busy with a merger to notice the blood running down my shin. I had run to the housekeeper for a bandage. I had spent my whole life looking for someone to choose me.

I chose Ignatz because I thought he saw me. But he only saw what I could give him.

My phone buzzed against the floorboards. A text from Ignatz's assistant.

Mr. Turner expects you at the Christmas gala tonight. He says bring the spare keys to the lake house. Do not be late.

Of course. I wasn't a person to them. I was an errand girl.

"Tomorrow," I whispered to the empty room. "Tomorrow, everything ends."

I slipped into the only formal dress I hadn't packed-a simple black slip dress. I didn't put on makeup. I didn't try to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I looked like a ghost, and that felt appropriate.

I took a cab to the venue. The ballroom was dripping in gold and red velvet. Champagne flowed like water.

I stood in the shadows near the entrance, unnoticed. Ignatz stood in the center of the room, holding a microphone. Everleigh was seated on a velvet chair next to him, looking triumphant.

"We're going to play a game!" Everleigh announced, her voice amplified by the speakers. "Truth or Dare!"

The crowd cheered. These were people I used to know. People who used to bow to my father. Now they laughed as Everleigh preened.

"Ignatz," Everleigh giggled into the mic. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," he said, smiling down at her.

"Who is the most important person in your life?" she asked.

The room went quiet. Ignatz scanned the crowd. His eyes glossed over the corner where I stood. He didn't see me. Or maybe he did, and it didn't matter.

"You, Everleigh," he said smoothly. "And my mother. You two are my world."

A cheer went up. Meredith wiped a tear from her eye in the front row.

I felt a physical snap in my chest. The last thread holding me to him broke.

It wasn't painful. It was just... over.

I walked up to the assistant, who was standing by the bar. I dropped the heavy set of keys into her hand.

"Tell him he won't need me to open doors for him anymore," I said.

She looked confused. "What?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I turned my back on the laughter, the applause, the warmth. I walked out into the snow.

Behind me, Ignatz pulled Everleigh into a kiss while the crowd roared.

"I don't need anyone's love to prove I exist," I said to the night air.

The snow fell harder, covering my tracks as I walked away.