Too Late To Beg: The Unwanted Wife Is An Heiress

Genevieve POV

The screen of my phone was cracked, a spiderweb of glass fracturing Ignatz's face.

He was down on one knee. The setting was the rooftop of the Foley Tech building-the very building I had designed, though you wouldn't find my name on the brass plaque in the lobby. He held a diamond the size of a quail egg, beaming up at Everleigh with a look of absolute adoration.

"I promise to protect you," he vowed in the video. "To cherish you. You are my only truth."

The clip already had five million views.

I sat on the curb outside my apartment building, the cold concrete seeping through the denim of my jeans. I had packed the last box an hour ago. My flight to Florence was in two days. I was just waiting for the courage to stand up and walk away from the wreckage of the last five years.

A black sedan screeched to a halt in front of me.

I didn't flinch. I knew that engine's growl. I knew exactly how he drove when he was angry or panicked.

Ignatz got out. He looked like he had stepped right out of the video-impeccable suit, hair perfectly styled, the scent of expensive sandalwood hitting me before he even spoke. But his eyes were frantic.

"Genevieve," he breathed, rushing toward me. "I've been calling you. Why is your phone off?"

I looked at him. I really looked at him. He was a stranger.

"I was watching your performance," I said, holding up the shattered phone. "Oscar-worthy."

He flinched. "That... that is just PR, Gen. You know how the industry works. Everleigh needs this boost right now. It's not real."

"It looked real," I said flatly. "The diamond looked real."

He reached for my hand, but I pulled back. He looked hurt, as if I were the one betraying him.

"I love her, Gen," he said, his voice dropping to that earnest whisper that used to make my knees weak. "But I care about you. I feel responsible for you. We have a history. I can't just let you... drift away."

"You love her," I repeated. "But you want me to stay in the shadows. To take the blame for her crimes. To be your backup plan."

"It's not like that," he insisted. "I want to take care of you. I want you to be part of my life. Just... in a different capacity."

He was trying to have both. The public princess and the secret servant.

"Ignatz," I said, my voice steady. "How have I been? Do you even know?"

He blinked, thrown off by the question. "I... I assume you're fine. Meredith said you were resting."

"Resting." I laughed, a dry, brittle sound that scraped my throat. "I was bleeding out on a bathroom floor while you were buying that ring."

His face went slack. "What?"

"I lost the baby, Ignatz," I said. The words tasted like ash. "The stress. The malnutrition. The fact that the father of my child asked me to go to jail for his girlfriend. My body couldn't take it. You killed it."

He took a step back, staggering as if I had physically struck him. Color drained from his face. "No. That's... you're lying. You said you were fine."

"I lied," I said. "Because the truth didn't matter to you."

For a second, I saw it. A crack in the armor. A flash of genuine horror in his eyes. He opened his mouth, his hand reaching out, trembling.

"Gen, I-"

"Ignatz!"

The shrill voice cut through the air like a siren.

The passenger door flew open, and Everleigh stepped out. She was wearing white, of course. She always wore white to look innocent.

She rushed to his side, grabbing his arm, her nails digging into his suit jacket.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she cried, looking at him, then turning her gaze to me. Her eyes were cold, dead things. "Genevieve. What are you doing to him? He's under so much pressure right now."

Ignatz looked between us. He looked at my pale face, then at Everleigh's tear-filled eyes. The horror in his expression faded, replaced by the familiar, pathetic instinct to protect her.

"She's upset," Ignatz muttered, putting a hand over Everleigh's.

Everleigh stepped forward. She opened her designer purse and pulled out a checkbook.

"Look, sister," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I know it's hard. Living in a place like this... it must be awful. We want to help."

She scribbled something and ripped the paper out with a sharp zip. She held it toward me.

"Here," she said. "Get yourself a nice apartment. Buy some new clothes. Stop bothering Ignatz."

I looked at the check. It was for ten thousand dollars.

Ten thousand dollars for five years of my life. For my inheritance. For my dead child.

"I don't need your charity," I said.

"Take it," Everleigh hissed, stepping closer so only I could hear. "You're pathetic. He doesn't want you. He never did. You were just a placeholder until I was ready."

She smirked, then suddenly gasped. She stumbled back, clutching her stomach.

"Ow! Ignatz!" she screamed. "She pushed me! My baby!"

It was a lie. I hadn't moved an inch.

But Ignatz didn't look at me. He didn't ask for the truth. He spun around and caught her, his face twisted in panic.

"Eve! Are you okay?"

"She's crazy!" Everleigh sobbed into his chest. "She's jealous! Get me away from her!"

Ignatz looked at me over her shoulder. His eyes were hard. Accusing. The guilt from moments ago was gone, buried under his blind loyalty to her.

"Stay away from us, Genevieve," he spat.

I stood there, the wind biting through my thin shirt.

"Is this your love, Ignatz?" I asked quietly. "Is this what you sacrificed me for?"

He didn't answer. He just held her tighter.