Because my family was drowning in debt, they forced me to marry a wealthy old man I had never met. On our wedding night, I stood trembling as he locked the door. “Please… don’t hurt me,” I whispered. He smiled, gripped the wrinkled skin at his jaw, and peeled away a lifelike mask. A handsome young man stared back. “Relax,” he said coldly. “You were never my target. Your family was—and tonight, my revenge begins.”
The first time I saw my husband, he was leaning on a silver cane while my mother whispered, “Smile, Evelyn. He is buying us out of ruin.” I was twenty-six, he appeared nearly eighty, and my family treated my wedding like the closing of a business deal. My father’s construction company had collapsed under hidden…