The Savage Heiress Quits as the CEO’s Stand-In Wife

“Try wearing my lingerie, girl. Maybe then Larkin will love you a little more.”

Farrah taunted Dionne with a smirk.

“Honestly, I do feel sorry for you. In this family, you’re just my stand-in. And to Larkin?”

She gave a cruel laugh. “You don’t really even count as that. If I were you, I would’ve left a long time ago.”

“Did you know?” She leaned in, as if to share a secret. “Larkin never runs out of energy when he’s with me. But—”

Dionne couldn’t take it anymore. Her hand shot out, knocking the gift box clean from Farrah’s hands.

“That’s enough. Know your place, Farrah. I’m still Larkin’s wife. And if you provoke me again,” she warned, “I’ll take that trash downstairs and show all those guests exactly what kind of woman you are—flirting with your sister’s husband!”

The words had barely left her lips when Farrah suddenly stumbled back, falling to the stairs and dramatically sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Dionne!” she wailed. “I won’t go near Larkin again! If you really hate me that much, I’ll buy a plane ticket right now and leave the states. I’ll never come back and bother you again!”

Footsteps pounded toward them. Larkin arrived first, barely sparing Dionne a glance before dropping to his knees and gathering Farrah into his arms.

Seconds later, Foster burst in. He didn’t ask a single question. The slap came fast and hard.

“Dionne!” he roared. “Farrah is my real daughter! You better remember your place! Touch her again, and I’ll pretend I never adopted you!”

Her ears were ringing from the blow. She turned to look at her father, and with trembling lips, she said, word by word, “She started it. She was the one who—”

“That’s enough,” Larkin interrupted with a frown. “We all know what kind of person Farrah is. She’d never pick a fight with you without a reason. You must’ve done something!”

“I know you’re upset because I didn’t acknowledge you publicly tonight,” he added. “But we agreed to a secret marriage from the start, so why are you making a scene now?”

He shook his head. “You’ve really disappointed me, Dionne.”

“You’re not going home tonight,” he said with finality. “Stay here. Reflect on your actions.”

With that, Larkin left the rooftop, still carrying Farrah in his arms.

Dionne clutched her chest tightly, fighting back tears. She rushed after them, desperate to explain. But just as she reached the door, it was slammed shut with a loud bang.

The edge caught her hand.

A white-hot flash of pain exploded through her body. The force dropped her to her knees.

Blood streamed freely from a deep gash across the back of her hand, pooling fast on the tiled floor. Her entire body trembled, her muscles seizing from the pain.

It was at that moment she realized—when pain reached its peak, a person couldn’t even scream.

She slumped against the wall, tears streaming down her face as she whispered over and over, “Larkin… This time, we’re really… done.”

Seeing the pool of blood, the housekeeper took Dionne to the hospital.

The doctor offered anesthesia before stitching her hand up, but she refused.

She needed to remember this pain—only then would she truly learn her lesson.

It took more than a dozen stitches to close the wound. The doctor warned her to rest or risk permanent scarring.

Since there was already a sign of infection, they advised her to stay overnight for observation.

At 11:55 that night, her phone rang.

It was Brixton.

“Hey, happy birthday.”

At once, her nose stung and her voice went hoarse.

“Thanks. You’re the only one who remembered to greet me.”

“You sound off. Were you crying?” Brixton asked, the concern evident in his tone. “Did someone hurt you? Tell me who.”

Hearing his words warmed Dionne’s heart. He was the only one who cared about her that night.

Forcing her emotions down, she replied, “No, I was just… watching a sad movie. Got emotional.”

There was a short silence on the line, like he didn’t quite believe her, but he didn’t press further.

“Alright. Try not to stay up watching stuff like that. It’s bad for your eyes.”

“I got you a birthday gift,” he added. “I’ll bring it when I come to pick you up.”

“And hey, remember, if someone’s hurting you, you don’t have to endure it. Tell me. I’ll get revenge for you,” he promised.

For a brief moment, she recalled how Larkin used to say the same thing to her.

But that was long forgotten now.

She forced a smile. “Alright. It’s getting late. You should get some rest.”

After the call ended, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

It was as if… the pain wasn’t so unbearable anymore.

The next morning, the first thing she did after waking up… was to find a lawyer to draft the divorce papers.