Bow Down To Your New Aunt

Summary

At twenty-two, I married Nathaniel Cross. His grandfather had practically used his final breaths to blackmail him into it, and Neil, ever the dutiful heir to the Cross empire, had folded.

But everyone in the Manhattan elite knew the truth: inside the biometric safe in the CEO’s office at Cross Holdings, Neil didn’t keep gold or bonds. He kept a pair of worn-out ballet slippers belonging to Isla Sinclair.

At twenty-five, I slid the divorce papers across his mahogany desk.

He didn't look at me. He stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the skyline, burning through half a pack of…