"I thought you'd go crazy like you did five years ago." His lip curled. "Looks like that savage place in the Northwest really can beat the temper out of a person. Living among those uneducated barbarians, I suppose you had no choice but to accept your fate."
I didn't respond. I just silently picked up the pen.
At that moment, Georgia appeared, holding a cup of hot tea with delicate grace.
"Aria, don't blame Ryan for speaking bluntly. Everyone is doing this for your own good." She set the cup down with practiced elegance. "Even though your husband was a crude barbarian, he had money and power. Letting you marry him was a way for you to contribute to the family!"
*Heh.*
*Contribute?*
Five years ago, the Henson Group's capital chain snapped, creating a massive three-billion-dollar deficit. The cause? Georgia Pruitt. As a mere intern, she had "accidentally" leaked the project's floor price to a competitor at a business cocktail party.
If the hole wasn't plugged, Matthew and Georgia would have rotted in prison.
It just so happened that Sebastian James, a coal tycoon from the Northwest, offered a three-billion-dollar cash injection as a bride price for a Henson heiress.
Matthew didn't hesitate. He and Ryan—my fiancé at the time—tied me up and shipped me off.
That was what they called "contributing."
But no matter how I examined it, the logic escaped me. Georgia caused the disaster, yet I was the sacrifice.
"Oh, right, Aria... I heard that over there, you can't even bathe every day. Is that true? Then on you..." Georgia covered her nose and mouth, as if realizing she'd been rude.
"Enough." I cut her off sharply.
I signed my name on the agreement with a flourish.
"When will the money arrive?" The agreement stated a compensation of five million dollars.
Matthew glanced at the signature, relief washing over his face. For a split second, a flicker of guilt passed through his eyes.
"Aria, there's no need to rush the money, right?" His voice wavered. "I've arranged a place for you to stay. Give it some time..."
I cut through his hypocritical concern. "Stop talking nonsense. I want five million in cash. Right now."
Five million to buy out my identity as Miss Henson. A cheap price for freedom.