The Amnesiac Billionaire's Fake Perfect Wife

The morning sun poured through the glass windows, casting bright geometric shapes across the tangled sheets of the California King bed.

Jessenia woke up slowly. Her muscles ached. She rolled onto her back and stretched, a deep, satisfied smile curving her lips. She had done it. The physical barrier was broken. She was truly the lady of the house now.

She turned her head to look at the left side of the bed.

It was empty. The sheets were cold.

Jessenia's smile vanished. She sat up, pulling the silk sheet over her chest. She heard the sound of rushing water coming from the bathroom.

She slid out of bed, grabbed her silk robe from the floor, and tied it tightly around her waist. She walked quietly to the bathroom door and pushed it open an inch.

Harlan was standing in the massive glass shower. He had the water turned all the way to cold. He was leaning forward, his hands pressed flat against the marble tiles, letting the freezing water batter his head and shoulders. His posture wasn't relaxed. It was rigid, tense, and filled with a heavy, suffocating regret.

He was trying to wash her off.

Jessenia's stomach twisted. She stepped back and waited by the vanity.

A few minutes later, the water stopped. Harlan walked out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He saw Jessenia standing there.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Jessenia forced a shy, morning-after smile. She took a step forward and reached out to touch his wet chest.

Harlan immediately took a step back. He avoided her hand completely. His eyes were dark, flat, and completely devoid of any warmth.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was entirely monotone.

The coldness of his tone hit her like a physical blow. There was no affection. There was no lingering intimacy. There was only a profound, physical discomfort.

He walked past her, keeping a wide berth, and went straight into the walk-in closet. He pulled out a dark navy suit and began dressing with rapid, mechanical efficiency.

Jessenia followed him to the doorway of the closet. Her hands balled into fists.

"You're going to the office?" Jessenia asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "The doctor said you need a week of rest."

"The Schwartz Group needs its CEO," Harlan said, buttoning his crisp white shirt. He didn't look at her in the mirror. "I've already told Arthur to have the car ready."

He grabbed his watch from the velvet display case and strapped it onto his wrist. He walked toward the bedroom door. He didn't offer a kiss. He didn't even look back.

"Harlan," Jessenia called out. Her voice cracked slightly. "Do you regret last night?"

Harlan stopped with his hand on the brass doorknob. He stood still for a second.

"We are engaged," Harlan said coldly to the wooden door. "It was bound to happen eventually."

He turned the knob and walked out, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Jessenia stood alone in the massive bedroom. The words echoed in her head. Bound to happen. It was a duty. A mechanical obligation. He had slept with her, and it had only made his subconscious hate her more.

A soft knock came from the open hallway door.

Kaylee stepped into the doorway. She was holding a silver tray with a cup of coffee and a croissant. She looked at the violently rumpled bedsheets, and a flash of pure, venomous jealousy crossed her eyes.

But she blinked it away instantly.

"Morning," Kaylee said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Cole asked me to bring you breakfast. He said he was leaving early. He looked really... upset."

She emphasized the word upset. It was a deliberate twist of the knife.

Jessenia's eyes narrowed. A blatant lie. Harlan would never ask this girl to serve her, especially not after the cold, mechanical way he had just left the room. This was a pathetic power play, an attempt to insert herself into the intimate space of their morning.

Jessenia's blood ignited. She walked across the room, her bare feet stomping on the carpet. She reached Kaylee, grabbed the silver tray out of her hands, and slammed it down onto the nearest table. Coffee splashed over the rim of the cup.

Jessenia stepped into Kaylee's personal space.

"Listen to me very carefully," Jessenia hissed, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Keep your pathetic little island tricks to yourself. This is New York. I am the mother of his child. You are nothing but a stray dog he brought home out of pity."

Kaylee didn't shrink back this time. She looked Jessenia dead in the eye. The innocent mask slipped completely, revealing a cold, calculating smirk.

"We'll see about that," Kaylee whispered back.