The Wall Street Tyrant's Fake Wife

Jalynn pushed the heavy glass doors of City Hall open. The early autumn sun of Manhattan hit her face. The bright light stabbed at her eyes, forcing her to squint.

A sleek, black Porsche 911 was idling at the curb. The engine gave a low, aggressive growl. Audrey Bishop, her best friend, sat in the driver's seat. Audrey slammed her palm against the horn, the loud blast cutting through the street noise.

Jalynn walked fast. She yanked the passenger door open and dropped into the low leather seat. She tossed the vintage clutch into the back. It hit the floorboards with a dull thud.

The second the car door clicked shut, Jalynn reached for her throat. Her fingers dug into the clasp of the tight pearl necklace. She ripped it off. The pearls clattered loudly against the center console. She took a massive breath, her lungs finally expanding all the way.

She reached to the back of her head and pulled the pins out of her hair. The tight bun unraveled. Her thick, dark waves tumbled down over her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the roots, scratching her scalp to get rid of the lingering pain.

Audrey watched her with wide eyes. She reached into the small cooler behind the seat, pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne, and shoved it toward Jalynn.

Jalynn grabbed the bottle. She didn't bother with a glass. She put the cold glass rim to her lips and tipped her head back. The icy liquid burned a path down her throat. The sharp carbonation hit her stomach, finally settling the nausea that had been rolling inside her for hours.

Audrey slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The Porsche shot forward, merging aggressively into the heavy traffic on Fifth Avenue.

"Well?" Audrey asked, keeping her eyes on the road. "How bad was it?"

Jalynn let out a harsh, bitter laugh. She dug into her purse and pulled out the tube of bright red lipstick. She flipped down the sun visor and stared at her reflection. She dragged the bold color across her lips, completely covering the pathetic pink gloss.

"The Wall Street tyrant looked at me like I was a piece of trash stuck to his shoe," Jalynn said. She snapped the lipstick tube shut. "But the money is in the account."

Audrey gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Deryl Atkins is a dangerous man, Jalynn. If he ever finds out you're faking this whole timid act, he will destroy you."

Jalynn rolled down the passenger window. The wind rushed into the cabin, whipping her dark hair around her face. She didn't care.

"I don't give a damn," Jalynn said over the noise of the wind. "As long as my father's life's work is safe, I will pay whatever price I have to."

The Porsche pulled up to the curb in front of an exclusive, unmarked private club on the Upper East Side. A valet in a crisp uniform immediately stepped forward and opened Jalynn's door.

Jalynn and Audrey walked through the heavy velvet curtains into the dimly lit VIP lounge. The air smelled of expensive cigars and leather.

They walked into a private back room. Jalynn kicked off her low, sensible heels. They hit the wall. She dropped onto the deep leather sofa, letting her body sink into the cushions.

A bartender walked in silently, placed two custom martinis on the low glass table, and walked out. The heavy soundproof door clicked shut behind him.

Jalynn grabbed the stem of her martini glass. She held it out. Audrey tapped her glass against it. The crystal rang with a sharp, clear note.

"To the brand new Mrs. Atkins," Audrey said, taking a sip. Her face turned serious. "So, how are you going to handle your Uncle Gideon?"

The moment Gideon's name hit the air, the temperature in Jalynn's eyes dropped. The relaxed posture vanished. Her spine went rigid.

She gripped the glass so hard the stem threatened to snap. Her knuckles turned white.

"That bastard," Jalynn hissed through her teeth. "He teamed up with outsiders to bleed his own brother dry while my father was having heart palpitations."

"Gideon still has the backing of half the board," Audrey warned. "He could launch a hostile takeover by the end of the week."

Jalynn set her glass down on the table. A dangerous, sharp smile spread across her red lips.

"My last name is Atkins now," Jalynn said. The words tasted heavy and powerful on her tongue.

"I'm not just going to use Deryl's money to plug the holes," Jalynn continued. "I'm going to use his title to crush those old foxes until they beg for mercy."

Audrey frowned. "Do you really think Deryl is going to let you use his name to throw your weight around town?"

Jalynn scoffed. "The prenup only says I have to play the good little wife at his family events. It doesn't say a damn thing about what I can do with my legal name outside his house."

Jalynn reached for her phone on the table. The screen lit up with a new message. It was from her father, Silas.

She opened the text. Her eyes scanned the words. Her stomach dropped, and then a hot, violent rage spiked in her chest.

Gideon is here at the house. He brought his lawyers. They are forcing me to sign the equity transfer.

Jalynn shot up from the sofa. Her blood was boiling. She grabbed her black leather jacket from the armrest and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

"The game starts right now," Jalynn said. Her voice was deadly quiet. "I'm going home to teach my dear uncle a lesson in respect."

Audrey grabbed her car keys from the table. "I'm driving. You need an audience for this."

Jalynn marched out of the private room. Her bare feet hit the thick red carpet with heavy, determined steps. The timid, broken girl from City Hall was dead.