His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Healer

"Don't even think about getting comfortable."

The heavy mahogany door slammed open, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the massive master bedroom.

Elizbeth flinched. She sat on the edge of the massive bed, her fingers nervously rubbing the lace cuff of her wedding dress. The mattress beneath her was covered in a thick layer of red rose petals.

Carlton strode into the room. He brought a wave of freezing air with him. His dark eyes locked onto hers, devoid of any warmth.

Elizbeth stood up immediately. A hopeful smile stretched across her face, making her cheeks ache. She took a step toward him.

"Carlton," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's me. Do you remember what we talked about eight years ago? Under the rubble?"

Carlton stepped sideways, dodging her outstretched hand as if she carried a disease.

Elizbeth's hand froze in mid-air. The smile on her face stiffened. Her stomach dropped, a cold weight settling in her gut.

She quickly turned to the bedside table. Her hands shook as she picked up a glass of warm water. She held it out to him, desperate to ease the harsh lines of exhaustion on his face.

"You must be tired," she whispered.

Carlton let out a harsh breath. He swatted his hand through the air impatiently.

His knuckles struck the glass. It flew from her hands and shattered against the hardwood floor. The sharp crack of breaking glass made Elizbeth jump backward.

Water splashed onto the hem of her white gown. She stared at the jagged pieces on the floor, her vision blurring. The back of her throat burned.

Carlton didn't look at the mess. He yanked at his silk tie, loosening it with rough, jerky movements. His jaw clenched as his eyes swept over the bed covered in red roses.

He marched to the side of the bed. He grabbed the edge of the silk bedsheet and ripped it upward.

Hundreds of red petals flew into the air and rained down onto the floor, landing in the spilled water. He tossed the sheet aside, his upper lip curling in disgust.

Elizbeth bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. The tears she had been fighting finally pooled in her eyes.

Carlton walked over to the leather armchair and picked up his black briefcase. He snapped it open and pulled out two thick stacks of paper.

He threw them onto the glass coffee table. The heavy thud made Elizbeth flinch again.

"Sign them," Carlton ordered. His voice was flat, mechanical, and completely empty.

Elizbeth walked over on trembling legs. She picked up the top document. The bold black letters at the top read: Prenuptial Agreement and Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She flipped to the second page. Her eyes scanned the harsh clauses. Relinquishment of all rights to the Wilkinson family trust. Permanent ban from entering the West Wing of the estate.

She looked up at him, her chest tight. It felt like someone