Fired and Found: My Silent Wife

SLAM.

The heavy doors smashed shut inches from my nose. Two brick-house bodyguards had just chucked me out of my own luxury penthouse like a bag of hot garbage.

On the other side of that door stood Cassandra, my vicious sister-in-law. She was wearing a burgundy silk nightgown, casually swirling a glass of the most expensive champagne from my private cellar. Before the doors closed, she had glared down at me from her high horse like I was a diseased stray.

Overnight, my father was thrown into federal prison. My brother was stripped of every last dime. Just yesterday, I was the billionaire heir burning cash for fun. Today? I was dead broke.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the guys I used to buy out clubs with.

Click. Click. Click.

Straight to voicemail. Every single one of them. The brutal reality of it made stomach acid burn the back of my throat.

I let out a harsh laugh, deleted my entire contact list in one swipe, and turned my back on the building, stepping into the freezing wind.

I wandered the streets aimlessly in the biting cold until I hit a dim street corner.

I plowed right into a frail silhouette. The cheap plastic grocery bags she was holding ruptured, spilling her stuff all over the wet concrete.

She was shivering in a washed-out t-shirt. But the second she looked up and realized who I was, her eyes widened, lighting up with a massive, undeniable spark of joy.

She scrambled in a panic, digging a cracked phone out of her pocket. Her thumbs flew across the screen before she shoved it directly into my line of sight.

[ Nathaniel, do you have nowhere else to go? ]

Chapter 1

Late afternoon, in the shadowed woods behind the science building. I leaned back against a tree trunk, highly entertained, taking in the sight of the gorgeous girl standing in front of me.

Her name was Blair.

The undisputed queen bee of our prep school. She was also the untouchable valedictorian. Straight-up Ivy League material.

She lived up to her nickname: The Iceberg. Always buried in a faded, oversized hoodie, always walking the halls alone, never letting a single emotion slip onto her face. Arrogant. Completely out of reach.

But today, the Iceberg was cracking.

Her habitually frozen expression was gone. She was chewing her bottom lip so hard it was drained of blood, and heavy, bruised bags hung beneath her eyes.

She stood rigid in front of me, a bowstring pulled right to the snapping point.

I didn't say a word. Just waited for her to crack. I had no idea why she sought out the school's biggest slacker, but I could guess. It had to be about money. Everyone on campus knew my family was loaded.

"Nathaniel." Her voice was ragged, laced with a faint tremor, but she fought to keep her chin up.

"Yeah." I gave a slight nod. Go on.

She sucked in a harsh breath, dragging the words up from her chest like they were made of broken glass. "I need money. A hundred grand. My mom is sick. She needs surgery right now."

The words hit the air, and she locked her eyes on mine. Absolute, thrashing desperation burned in her pupils.

I nodded slowly. Acknowledged. Then, I kept my mouth shut.

The silence was suffocating. Nothing but the wind rustling the dead oak leaves above us, mocking her humiliation.

The remaining color completely drained from her face.

The bowstring snapped.

She snapped her head up. Her bloodshot eyes bored directly into mine, her knuckles turning bone-white as she gripped the hem of her shirt. Her voice tore out of her throat, ragged and desperate: "I'll give you anything. My body, my future, everything!"

A bark of laughter escaped my lips. It was almost comical.

I tilted my head, letting my gaze drag slowly over her. From her death-grip on her shirt to the dark, humiliated flush creeping up her neck.

"So," I drawled, shattering the dead air. "You actually think your bodyor whatever you call 'everything'is worth a hundred grand?"

The words struck her like a physical blow. She recoiled, a violent shudder ripping through her frame. Raw, suffocating shame flooded her eyes.

"I" She parted her lips, but not a single sound came out. Moisture pooled in her reddened eyes, but she dug her nails into her palms, violently suppressing the tears.

A full thirty seconds dragged by.

Then, she locked her jaw. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with unshed tears, but razor-sharp. "Not just my body! My heart, my loyalty, my entire futureit's yours! You save my mom, and my life belongs to you!"

Wow. Going all in. What was this, some tragic heroine act? I almost laughed again.

Her heart? The frozen heart of the untouchable valedictorian. Supposedly priceless. Too bad I didn't buy into that fairy-tale garbage.

My father funded luxury condos for his rotation of sugar babies. My mother still sobbed over 'the one that got away.' They married to merge their trust funds and spent the next two decades playing the flawless power couple for the cameras.

Did they have hearts? Maybe. But they outsourced them a long time ago.

So don't pitch me this 'heart' bullshit. I'm not buying it.

Chapter 2

I straightened up and closed the distance, my towering shadow swallowing her whole. I reached out, and she squeezed her eyes shut in sheer terror, her shoulders trembling violently. But I just used my fingers to flick her hard on the forehead, a sharp, punishing sting.

She froze, her eyes snapping open in pure bewilderment.

I pulled my hand back, shoving it into my pocket, and locked onto her gaze, enunciating every single word. "Get one thing straight, Blair. Are you asking me to be the piece of shit who takes advantage of you and buys your body? Or are you hoping I play the saint and give you a handout?"

Her brain completely short-circuited. She just stared at me, lips parted, utterly stunned.

But I had all the time in the world. I just stood there, watching her process it.

Finally, reality snapped back. The rigid tension drained from her shoulders, and a pathetic sliver of hope crept into her eyes.

"Help me," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "Please."

I didn't miss a beat, shaking my head. "No. I'm not running a charity. I have money to burn, but I don't set it on fire for no reason. A hundred grand is just a decent bottle of wine to me."

The pleading in her eyes hardened into a sharp, hostile glare.

Watching her look like she was about to shatter into a million pieces killed the last of my dark amusement. Damn. Maybe I pushed it too far.

I didn't respect her acting like a pawnshop commodity, but this was a matter of life and death. What can I say? I'm a flawed guy, but I'm not a monster.

I shifted gears. "But, since I don't want to be the villain or the saint, we can keep this strictly business. You've got perfect grades. You're a blue-chip stock with high yield potential. So I'll loan you the cash. Call it an angel investment. I can wire the hundred grand to you right now, or pay the hospital directly. Your call."

An explosion of sheer, unbelievable shock lit up her eyes.

"But." I held up a single finger. "Terms and conditions apply. In ten years, you owe me a hundred and fifty grand. The interest rate is a steal; you'll handle it fine. Also, you have to get accepted into an Ivy League next month. That's step one of proving your ROI, and my risk management clause."

She froze. Then, like she was grabbing the last life preserver on a sinking ship, she nodded frantically, terrified I'd take the deal off the table. "Deal!"

I dropped a card with my private number into her hand and turned on my heel, not bothering to stick around for the gratitude tour.

Stepping out of the tree line, the afternoon sun hit my skin, warming me back up.

A guy in a varsity jacket jogged past me, moving fast. When he spotted me, pure hostility flared in his eyes. He shot me a death glare before sprinting toward the woods. Looked like he was tracking down Blair.

I furrowed my brow. Was that the supposed runner-up who'd been trailing Blair like a lost puppy for three years? Yeah, probably. But his taste in women was trash. A girl willing to sell herself to the highest bidder clearly had zero concept of emotional value.

I stretched my arms over my head, joints popping. Not my circus, not my monkeys. I didn't believe in romance anyway.

Chapter 3

I still had to get my legal team to draft the paperwork. What a massive pain in the ass.

Honestly, I didn't care if she ever paid me back. A hundred grand was literally pocket change to me. All that talk about contracts and terms was purely for show, a barrier to entry I set up for myself. If I didn't, it'd be Blair today, some random Becky tomorrow, and every beggar in the tri-state area lining up for handouts. Even a trust fund bottomless pit can't sustain that level of burn.

I was the designated black sheep of the family, fully committed to doing absolutely nothing with my life. I had to manage my liquid assets carefully to ensure my lazy, luxurious lifestyle remained uninterrupted until the day I died.

Dropping a hundred grand to buy a fleeting hit of "I did my good deed for the day" dopamine, while getting a front-row seat to watch the untouchable Iceberg squirm? Worth it. But dealing with this every day? Hard pass.

After a quick call with my attorney to finalize the meeting details, I hung up and forwarded the drafted PDF to Blair. Done and dusted.

I kept walking toward my original destination: one of the empty club rooms.

Through the glass panel, I scoped out the scene inside.

Harper, the girl I grew up with, was currently wrapped up in a heated conversation with some sketchy-looking punk.

Our families ran in the same ultra-wealthy circles, heavily entangled in corporate deals. So Harper and I were essentially childhood best friends.

But that wasn't the main issue.

The main issue was Harper's older sister, Cassandra.

Cassandra was a literal apex predator in stilettos. Beautiful, ruthless in the boardroom, and crucially, she treated me like royalty. Every time I saw her, she'd casually drop seven-figure allowances into my accounts. To a dedicated slacker like me, she was a walking ATM.

My life motto was simple: Whoever gives me money is my favorite person.

Plus, Cassandra was about to get engaged to my obnoxious, overachieving golden boy of an older brother, Preston. She was going to be my official sister-in-law. Keeping her happy was a direct investment in my lifelong VIP status.

So, when Harper's grades tanked from the top percentile down to the middle of the pack all because of this street rat, and Cassandra personally asked me to look into it? I knew I had to step in. You take the cash, you do the job. That's how you keep the gravy train rolling.

Before I even grabbed the handle, the door swung open and a guy barrelled right into my chest, his eyes rimmed with red.

He stumbled back, glaring up at me with sheer, humiliated rage.

I recognized him. He was some charity-case scholarship kid Harper used to sponsor. Brainy, quiet type. Judging by the look on his face, I just walked into the fallout of a classic "I fell in love with my benefactor, but she chose the bad boy" soap opera.

I shook my head, fighting a smirk. The kid was way too green.

For trust fund babies like us, throwing money at problems was just muscle memory, a way to flex our status. It didn't mean we actually gave a damn. If you want to show gratitude to the rich, you climb the ladder and pay them back with leverage. That's business. If you catch feelings, you're just begging to get wrecked.

Case in point: looking like a kicked dog.

I brushed past him without a second glance and kicked the door wide open.

Chapter 4

The door creaked open, putting the whole scene on full display.

Harper was half-sprawled in the lap of that street rat, Austin, laughing her head off. His hands were way out of bounds, sliding suggestively over her waist.

At the sound of the door, Harper's laugh died in her throat. The second she saw me, her face scrunched up in disgust.

"Nathaniel? What the hell are you doing here?" She scrambled out of Austin's lap, her voice dripping with defensive irritation. "Did they send you to talk me into dumping him? Save your breath, it's not happening."

She stood up, raking her eyes up and down my frame with pure contempt. "You're literally the useless black sheep of your family. You can't even get your own life together. What gives you the right to lecture me?"

I wasn't even mad. Actually, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Useless? Please. I'd spent the last decade carefully curating my brand as a complete waste of space. Why would I be offended by facts?

I ignored her entirely, dragging a dust-covered chair across the linoleum and dropping into it. I crossed one ankle over my knee and shifted my gaze right past her, locking onto Austin, who was actively avoiding eye contact.

Gauged ears, nose ring, tongue piercing, and bleached blonde hair that looked like a tragic chemical spill.

Man, this guy was a walking clich. He looked like a cardboard cutout from a 2010 Hot Topic catalog.

"Relax," I waved a hand at Harper, flashing a completely harmless smile. "I'm not here to play dad. I'm just curious." I tilted my head, studying her. "How did the ultimate good girl suddenly catch feelings for a walking red flag?"

My casual tone clearly hit a nerve, because her face flushed with anger.

"You don't know anything!" She raised her voice, trying to convince meor maybe just trying to convince herself. "Austin isn't like us! He's not some fake trust fund snob! He's real! He's free!"

She grabbed Austin's arm, staring at him with this borderline cult-like worship. "This is what living actually feels like! Your scripted, cookie-cutter lives are a pathetic waste of time!"

She whirled back around, pointing a manicured finger directly at my chest. "Especially you, Nathaniel! You fail classes, you don't even know how to party. Take away your family's last name, and what are you? A complete and utter loser!"

"Oh." I nodded slowly, acting like a lightbulb just went off. "Got it. It's just the teenage rebellion phase, huh?"

Harper clearly thought she'd won the argument. A smug little smirk crept onto her face.

Austin puffed out his chest too, the panic draining from his eyes as he looked down at me.

I didn't waste another breath.

I stood up, gripped the heavy wooden chair I was just sitting on, and swung it in a vicious arc. It tore through the air, smashing directly into Austin's kneecap with a sickening, bone-crunching crack.

CRASH.

The sound was immediately drowned out by Austin squealing like a slaughtered pig.

Then, the room fell dead silent.

The smug smirk froze on Harper's face, melting instantly into absolute horror. She stared blankly at Austin, who was writhing on the floor and clutching his shattered leg, and then snapped her eyes to me in sheer disbelief.

"Nathaniel! Are you psycho?!" She lunged at me, throwing her hands up, desperate to claw my eyes out.

I dodged her manicured claws, grabbed her wrist in a vice grip, and yanked her forward. Without missing a beat, I backhanded her right across her flawless face, the sharp slap cutting through her hysterical screaming.

SMACK