Chapter 4 My Husband is an Escort?!

Amanda's POV

When I dragged myself home, Daddy Dearest's summons was waiting. And there sat Madison in his study, perched in that leather chair high and mighty as ever. That trademark "gotcha" smirk on her face. Little Miss Perfect, always eager to play tattletale. My head was pounding from last night's drinks, each throb a reminder of my temporary escape. But I wouldn't give them the satisfaction - I planted myself in front of his pretentious mahogany desk, spine rigid with defiance.

"Want to explain this?" He shoved his phone at me. My heart skipped a beat. There it was - Madison's Instagram story, showing me climbing into Ethan's car. A moment of rebellion, now turned into evidence against me. The familiar mix of rage and helplessness bubbled up inside me. Of course she'd been following me - my own personal stalker, always there to document my "sins."

"I don't answer to social media gossip." I met his gaze head-on, channeling every ounce of contempt I felt into those words.

"No?" His voice was deadly quiet as he switched to another screen - financial reports swimming with red ink. "How about answering to this? Davis Corporation is weeks away from bankruptcy. Harold Wilson offered us a lifeline, and you're out there playing games with some..."

"Some what?" I challenged. "Say it."

Madison's smile widened as she chimed in. "Oh come on, sis. We all know what kind of man drives girls around in a Maybach."

"Harold Wilson has offered to save this company," my father's voice cut through the tension. "All he wants is a wife. Instead, you're out there destroying what's left of our reputation with some hired..."

"You will end this arrangement immediately," he continued, his tone becoming dangerously soft. "Unless you want your grandfather moved from Cedar Grove to state care."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Cedar Grove was the most exclusive care facility on the West Coast, providing my grandfather with round-the-clock specialized attention. "You wouldn't."

"The monthly fees alone could keep three divisions running." Richard shuffled his papers with deliberate casualness. "In our current situation, such luxury is... unsustainable."

"You heartless bastard." The words slipped out before my brain could hit the brakes.

"Watch your tone." he demanded sharply. "You'll meet Wilson tomorrow. That's not a request."

My nails dug into my palms, breaking skin. Deep breaths, Amanda. Do it for Grandpa. He's the only one who ever gave a damn about what I wanted. The only reason I'm still playing this twisted family game. One quick nod - that's all Dad would get from me. Let him think he's won. For now.

Back in my fancy prison - aka my "suite" at the top of Davis Manor - I couldn't stop moving. Last night's crazy Vegas wedding kept playing on repeat in my head. Marrying some hot stranger in a bar? Either the dumbest thing I've ever done or my ticket out of this hellhole. Maybe both.

My phone buzzed – an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, beautiful. How's the hangover treating you?" His voice was warm honey, genuinely concerned. "I grabbed some Advil and your favorite latte - double shot vanilla, right?"

I froze. Ethan. My impromptu Vegas husband. The first person in forever to actually ask how I was feeling. "This... isn't a good time."

"I figured. News about Wilson and Davis Corp is everywhere... and what he wants from you."

Something caught in my throat. Since Grandpa got sick, nobody had bothered to check if I was okay. Just demands, threats, and Madison's smirks. But here was this stranger, bringing me coffee and caring enough to ask.

"I can handle it," I managed, but my voice wasn't as steady as I wanted.

"I know you can." His voice stayed gentle, understanding. "But you don't have to handle it alone."

Before I could respond, Madison burst into the room without knocking. I ended the call abruptly.

"Well, well." Madison's smile had teeth. "Secret calls already? Is that how you arranged your ride home in that Maybach yesterday?"

I met my half-sister's gaze steadily. "Jealous?"

"Of what? Your sugar daddy?" Madison suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my phone and throwing it across the room. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, don't you?"

I tried to step back, but Madison gripped my arm brutally. "Look at you now – the perfect Amanda Davis, reduced to being some rich man's plaything."

"Let go of me." My voice was ice-cold despite the pain.

"Or what?" Madison's manicured nails dug deeper into my flesh. "You'll call your paid boyfriend to help?" She shoved me hard against the wall. "I own Nathan now, and soon everyone will know what a desperate little tramp you've become."

"Get your hands off me." I refused to show fear, even as Madison's other hand wrapped threateningly around my throat.

"Make me." Madison's eyes glittered with malice. "No one's here to protect you anymore, sister dear."

"It must burn," Madison continued as if I hadn't spoken, "knowing Nathan chose me. That all your perfect plans fell apart."

"Like you chose him?" My laugh would've made a penguin shiver. "We both know you're just the consolation prize he settled for."

Her cool-as-cucumber act wasn't so smooth anymore. "At least I'm not so desperate I need to pay for company."

Madison's words hung in my bedroom like a bad smell, each one aimed to cut deep and draw blood. "Curious about why Nathan really called off the wedding?"

I kept my gaze fixed on the city lights beyond my window, refusing to give my half-sister the satisfaction of seeing my pain. The previous night's impulsive marriage to Ethan still felt surreal, as if it could dissolve into reality at any moment.

"The company's up to its neck in red ink," Madison smirked, enjoying every second.

"Then Wilson's crew swoops in with this sweet deal - catch is, old Harold wants to play husband, and guess who daddy dear picked for the starring role?"

My fingers tightened on the crystal tumbler I held. "And Nathan?"

"Poor Nathan." Madison's laugh held no warmth. "When he found out about Wilson's interest, he rushed to break things off with you. Better me than condemning his precious fiancée to marriage with a man old enough to be her father. Such a gentleman, don't you think?"

My hand shook, bourbon sloshing in the glass. God, I was such an idiot. Every "I love you," every midnight phone call, every promise of forever - it was all bullshit. Just part of their sick little game. The engagement ring on my finger felt like it was burning into my skin. Two years of my life, wasted on a coward who'd been screwing my sister behind my back. The urge to vomit was overwhelming.

"Get. The. Hell. Out." Each word dripped with fury as I hurled the glass against the wall, watching it shatter. Just like my heart, how fucking poetic.

Madison swayed to the door with her usual arrogant strut. She paused at the doorframe, her fingers trailing along the wood as she delivered one last poisoned arrow. "Better raid that designer closet of yours, sis. Daddy wants you dolled up for Wilson tomorrow."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with the mess - both emotional and literal.