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

Dionne brought two documents with her to the company.

Larkin’s gaze dropped to her hand, gripped tight around her bag. His brows drew together.

“What happened to your hand?” He barely waited before letting out a scoff. “You hurt yourself? Just because I said a few words to you last night, you’re using self-harm to go against me?”

‘So he didn’t even know it’s his fault,’ Dionne realized. ‘Of course, it’s not surprising. As long as Farrah’s around, he’ll never pay me attention.’

Dionne didn’t want to explain. “It’s nothing. I just accidentally cut myself,” she said casually.

Larkin wasn’t stupid. How could such a deep wound be just an accident?

Before he could question her further, she pulled out two documents.

“There are two contracts. Please sign them, President Jablonski.”

His frown deepened.

When it was the only two of them, she never called him so formally like “President Jablonski.”

Annoyance flickered in his eyes as he reached for the papers, but before he could even read through the content, his phone lit up. It was Farrah.

He answered, exchanged a few words, then grabbed his coat and stood. “I’ve got something to do. We’ll talk about the contracts later.”

But Dionne wouldn’t let him go. She pressed a pen into his palm, insisting, “These are urgent. They need to be signed now.”

She flipped straight to the last page and laid them out in front of him.

When Farrah’s call came through again, Dionne’s fist clenched slightly. “Sign them, then you can leave.”

Larkin thought that Dionne was being a little unreasonable, but with a frown, he still signed his name. “Happy now?” he said sarcastically.

With both copies now signed by him, Dionne took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

He turned to leave but paused at the doorway, announcing, “Farrah’s coming home for dinner. She’s very picky, so make sure you make a few of her favorite dishes.”

He didn’t look at her as he continued, “I talked to her about last night. She’s kind enough not to hold it against you anymore. Don’t keep dragging things out.”

“You’re the older sister, Dionne,” he reminded her. “Making a meal can count as an apology.”

With that, he walked out of the office without looking back.

Dionne lowered her eyes to her hand wrapped thickly in gauze and let out a self-mocking smile.

‘Even when the damage was staring him in the face,’ she thought, ‘he still expected me to compromise for Farrah’s sake.’

That evening, Larkin came home with Farrah.

As soon as they entered, he smelled something burning and rushed to the backyard, where he found Dionne setting things on fire.

“What are you burning?”

As he got closer, he recognized them—gifts he had given her over the years.

Dionne had treasured those things.

Once, a maid had damaged one by accident during cleaning, and she had thrown a huge fit about it.

Now, she was setting them all on fire.

His composure cracked. He kicked the firepit, his voice cold. “What is the meaning of this?”

Dionne calmly replied, “There’s no space left in the house anymore, so I’m burning a few things.”

“Did you forget?” she continued. “You called earlier, saying Farrah was moving in. You told me to clear out a room.”

All the accusations he was about to hurl got stuck in his throat.

The excuse sounded perfectly reasonable, but Larkin still felt stifled in his chest.

Farrah clung to his arm and said sweetly, “Larkin, I really do have a lot of stuff. It’s just some old clothes anyway. If they’re burned, they’re burned.”

Larkin’s eyes flickered. “Fine. Burned or not, they’re nothing important anyway.”

And with that, he turned and walked back inside the villa.

Dionne looked at the ashes of what used to be her memories and curled her lips into a faint smile.

‘Right. They weren’t anything important. If they’re gone, then they’re gone.’

In the dining room, Larkin frowned again when he saw no food on the table.

“Didn’t I tell you Farrah would be home for dinner? Why didn’t you make anything?”

Dionne met his gaze, then slowly raised her hand wrapped in thick gauze. “I can’t,” she said flatly.

For a brief second, Larkin actually felt a flicker of guilt.

He had forgotten that she was injured.

Before that guilt could settle, Farrah tugged on his arm and suggested, “Larkin, since my sister didn’t make anything, why don’t we eat out instead?”

Dionne didn’t want to see them flaunting their intimacy in front of her any longer; she turned and went upstairs.

After a shower, she got a call from Brixton.

He was planning ahead—finalizing wedding arrangements—and wanted to know what kind of venue she preferred.

After spending three years with Larkin being the wife nobody knew about, she had never dared to even dream of a wedding.

She had always thought she wasn’t worthy of one.

But Brixton so easily gave her the sense of security she’d longed for.

Dionne paused, contemplating. After a moment, she answered, “By the beach. I want a beach wedding.”

Just then, Larkin happened to pass by her door. He barged straight in.

“What wedding?”