The Amnesiac Billionaire's Fake Perfect Wife

The nine-figure number on the encrypted tablet glowed in the dim light of the master bedroom.

Jessenia sat on the edge of the velvet armchair. The fabric was soft against her bare legs. She scrolled through the monthly statement of the Schwartz family trust fund. The numbers were staggering. They were enough to buy small countries. They were enough to erase a lifetime of poverty.

She picked up the bone china cup from the marble table. The black coffee was still hot. She took a slow sip. The bitter liquid burned the back of her throat, but it felt like victory. This penthouse was hers. The security was hers. The class leap was complete.

The private cell phone resting on the marble table suddenly vibrated.

The harsh buzzing sound shattered the quiet of the room. Jessenia flinched. She set the coffee cup down and picked up the phone. The screen displayed a name: Eleanor Vance. Harlan's mother.

Jessenia cleared her throat. She sat up straighter, adjusting her posture even though she was completely alone in the room. She forced her facial muscles to soften into the gentle, obedient mask she wore every day.

"Hello, Eleanor," Jessenia said. Her voice was sweet and perfectly measured.

"Jessie," Eleanor gasped. Her voice was shaking violently. "Jessie, he's alive. Harlan is alive."

Jessenia's pupils dilated. Her lungs stopped working. The air in the room vanished in a single second.

Her fingers lost all their strength. The phone slipped. Her arm hit the edge of the marble table. The bone china cup tipped over and crashed onto the floor. It shattered into dozens of sharp white pieces. The hot black coffee splashed across the expensive Persian rug, a dark stain spreading rapidly through the fibers.

The heavy oak door of the bedroom pushed open. Brenda, the assistant housekeeper, stepped inside.

"Ms. Strickland? I heard a crash. Do you need me to clean-"

Jessenia's head snapped around. Her eyes were wide, but her voice was dangerously quiet. "Leave us," she said, with an icy finality that made Brenda feel a chill and quickly exit the room.

Brenda slammed the door shut.

Jessenia slid off the velvet chair. Her knees hit the floor. The sharp edge of a broken china piece sliced into her knee, but she didn't feel the pain. Her mind was already three years in the past.

She remembered the cold marble floor of Harlan's office. She remembered the crisp white paper of the Non-Disclosure Agreement hitting her chest. She remembered his dark, merciless eyes.

"Get rid of the problem, Jessenia," Harlan had said. His voice was devoid of any human warmth. He tossed a pen onto the desk, right next to a check with seven zeros on it. "Sign the NDA. Take the money. Or my legal team will make sure you cease to exist in this city. You will never work again. You will never breathe without my permission."

He didn't love her. He despised her. She was just an administrative assistant