Marrying The Broke Billionaire In Disguise

The Italian restaurant in Williamsburg was loud, packed with people wearing expensive clothes trying to look casual.

Flora walked into the private dining room, her hand gripping Josiah's arm. She wore a simple black dress she had bought years ago. Josiah wore the plaid thrift-store shirt, meticulously ironed by Flora that morning.

The moment they stepped through the door, the loud chatter in the room instantly died.

Ten pairs of eyes snapped toward them.

Sitting at the head of the long table was Grant Holloway. He held a glass of red wine, swirling the dark liquid slowly. A vicious, predatory smirk stretched across his face.

Flora's stomach dropped into her shoes. Her fingernails dug into Josiah's bicep.

Josiah didn't flinch. He placed his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing a slow, calming circle against her skin.

They walked to the two empty chairs at the far end of the table and sat down.

Grant leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth. "So, Josiah," Grant said, his voice booming over the background music. "I hear the tech market is brutal right now. How's the job hunt?"

Josiah picked up his fork. He looked at Grant with eyes so blank and bored it made Grant's teeth grind.

"It's fine," Josiah said flatly.

Grant's smirk widened. He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. "I saw some interesting photos in the group chat today. You shopping at 'Second Chance'. Very eco-friendly of you to wear another man's garbage."

A few people at the table snickered.

Flora's face drained of all color. Her chest heaved. She opened her mouth to speak, but Grant cut her off.

"I also heard you're living off Flora's nurse salary," Grant continued, his voice dripping with venom. "Must be nice to be a kept man. A real parasite."

The word hung in the air like toxic gas.

Flora slammed her hands flat on the table. The silverware rattled. She shot up from her chair, her whole body shaking with violent rage.

Josiah reached up and grabbed her wrist. He tugged gently. "Sit down, Flora. It doesn't matter."

His calm demeanor only poured gasoline on Grant's fury. Grant hated that Josiah wasn't breaking.

Grant stood up. He grabbed his wine glass and walked down the length of the table until he stood directly over Josiah.

"Let me pour you a drink, broke boy," Grant sneered.

Grant tilted his wrist.

A splash of dark red wine poured directly onto Josiah's chest. The crimson liquid soaked instantly into the white and blue plaid fabric, spreading like a fresh bloodstain.

"Oops," Grant said, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Hope you can afford the laundromat."

Something inside Flora snapped.

She lunged forward, shoving Grant in the chest with both hands. Grant stumbled backward, his expensive shoes slipping on the hardwood floor.

Flora stepped in front of Josiah, shielding him with her own body. She looked like a lioness protecting her cub.

Josiah sat perfectly still. He looked up at Flora's back. His heart slammed against his ribs with the force of a sledgehammer. No one had ever stood in front of him. No one had ever fought for him.

"You are a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man," Flora screamed, her voice tearing through the silent room. "You think having money makes you better than him? You're nothing but a bully!"

Grant's face turned purple. He raised his hand, stepping toward Flora.

Josiah's eyes went pitch black. The muscles in his legs coiled. He shifted his weight, preparing to stand up and break Grant's arm in three places.

Before Josiah could move, Flora slapped Grant's raised hand away. The smack echoed loudly.

"My husband might be broke right now," Flora yelled, her eyes blazing with tears she refused to let fall. "But he has more dignity and talent in his little finger than you will ever have in your entire miserable life!"

She grabbed Josiah's hand. Her grip was like iron.

"And for the record," Flora spat, glaring at Grant. "He is infinitely cleaner than you."

Flora spun around and dragged Josiah toward the door. She threw the heavy wooden door open and marched out, leaving a room full of stunned, silent people behind her.

The door slammed shut, cutting off the restaurant's music.

In the quiet hallway, Flora let go of Josiah's hand. She covered her face, a single, humiliated sob ripping from her throat. She started walking fast toward the exit, desperate to escape.