“Oh wow,” Phoebe wheezed. “Gabriel, I know your family’s situation like the back of my hand. Your dad? New York’s richest man? Oh please—maybe your sugar daddy.”
Narrowing her eyes, she added, “So that’s how you swing, huh? You go both ways now?”
“Well, considering you’ve got connections like that, I suppose I could reconsider the breakup. You don’t even have to pay five hundred thousand anymore.”
“All I ask is that you sign these agreements and make sure your ‘father’ supports my family’s business annually”
“In return, I’ll make sure you and your sugar... I mean, father, can keep everything discreet.”
I never imagined Phoebe could be this shameless.
What did she take me for? Some pawn in a game of transactional marriage?
If not for this five hundred thousand dollar fiasco, I might’ve actually been fooled by her looks.
Phoebe scribbled the new, last-minute conditions directly onto the prenuptial agreement in front of me—terms she had clearly just made up on the spot.
“Gabriel, sign it,” she ordered coolly.
Blake instantly jumped in, panicking.
“Miss Wright, how could a man as reckless and indecent as him be worthy of marrying you?!”