From Temporary to Unforgettable Love

My husband, Easton, dragged me to a party for his ex-girlfriend, Kelly Holland. Our five-year marriage was a sham, a contract he'd signed to spite her after she left him. I was just the placeholder wife. During a game of"Seven Minutes in Heaven," he chose Kelly. When they emerged from the powder room, her lipstick was smeared, and a fresh hi**ey stained her neck. Later that night, Easton and Kelly stormed into our home. He accused me of stealing her multi-million dollar diamond necklace. He didn't believe me, even when I swore I was innocent. He called the police, who conveniently found the necklace in my handbag. He looked at me with disgust."I never should have married you," he spat."You're nothing but tr**h from the slums." I was arrested based on the word of the woman who set me up. My five years of quiet love and devotion meant nothing. The man I had secretly fallen for saw me as nothing more than a common thief. I spent the night in a cold holding cell. The next morning, after being bailed out, I took the SIM card from my phone, snapped it in two, and dropped it in the tr**h. It was over. I would make them pay. I would burn their entire world to the ground. Chapter 1 The divorce papers arrived on a Tuesday. The crisp white envelope sat on the marble countertop, my name, Brooke Rollins, typed in a sterile font. Next to it was another name: Easton Spencer. My husband. For five years, that title had felt like a costume I wore. It was a sham, a placeholder marriage he'd entered into to spite his socialite ex-girlfriend, Kelly Holland, after she'd publicly dumped him. I stood in the corner of the lavish ballroom, a flute of champagne untouched in my hand. Then I saw them. Kelly Holland, draped in a glittering silver dress, glided toward me. Her friends, a flock of equally polished women, trailed in her wake. The air grew thick with their expensive perfume and unspoken contempt. "Brooke, darling," Kelly's voice was smooth as silk, but her eyes held a familiar cruelty. "I almost didn't recognize you. You clean up surprisingly well." I didn't smile. I just met her gaze. "Kelly." One of her friends laughed, a high, tinkling sound. "Still so cold. I guess you can take the girl out of the factory town, but you can't take the factory town out of the girl." The words were meant to sting, but I'd heard them, or versions of them, a thousand times. They were nothing. But Kelly knew where to aim. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial wh**per that was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I saw your mother the other day. Still limping around from that factory accident, isn't she? It's so tragic. You'd think with all of Easton's money, you could have at least gotten her a decent prosthetic." A hot, white rage flooded me. My mother was my line. The one thing in this world they couldn't touch. My hand moved before I could think. The crack of my palm against Kelly's cheek echoed in the sudden silence. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Kelly's head snapped back, a red mark blooming on her perfect skin. For a second, she looked stunned. Then her eyes narrowed. With a vicious snarl, she grabbed a full glass of red w**e from a passing tray and flung its contents at me. The cold liquid soaked the front of my dress, a dark, ugly stain spreading across the pale fabric. It dripped onto the floor, pooling at my feet. I stood there, shivering and humiliated, the w**e clinging to my skin like a second, shameful layer. Suddenly, a presence was behind me. A large, expensive suit jacket was draped over my shoulders, shielding me from the staring eyes. "What the h**l is going on here?" Easton's voice was low and dangerous. I didn't have to turn around to know he was here. He always showed up at the most dramatic moments. His shirt was slightly untucked, and his hair was a mess, as if he'd run all the way here. He stepped in front of me, a protective wall between me and the world. He glared at Kelly, his jaw tight. "What did you do?" Kelly's face immediately crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed a trembling finger at me. "Easton, she hit me! Look! For no reason at all, she just attacked me." I could see the gears turning in his head, the old, familiar conflict. His loyalty to me, his wife, versus the deep, toxic pull of the woman he'd loved since childhood. He didn't fall for it this time. Not completely. "Get out, Kelly. Now." He grabbed my arm, his grip firm, and pulled me away from the scene, through the parted crowd, and out into the cool night air. We walked in silence to his car, the engine a low growl in the quiet parking garage. Inside the car, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair. He looked at me, his expression a mix of anger and something I couldn't place. "Is today something important?" he asked, his voice rough. My heart, which I thought had turned to stone, felt a small, painful throb. He'd forgotten. "It was our anniversary, Easton," I said, my voice flat. "Yesterday." He flinched. The guilt was plain on his face. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I... I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you anything you want." That was Easton. Meticulous with gifts and grand gestures, a performance of a perfect husband. But emotionally, he was a black hole. He could remember to send flowers but forget the reason why. He was a man of breathtaking consideration and even more breathtaking cruelty. Just as he was about to start the car, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Kelly Holland. Chapter 2 Easton's face hardened as he answered the phone, his voice a low growl. "What do you want, Kelly?" He hit the brakes so hard the car lurched. I could hear her frantic, sobbing voice through the speaker, even with the volume low. "Don't you ever threaten me again," Easton snapped, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "You know I'm not joking." Her crying intensified, becoming a desperate, manipulative wail. It was a sound he'd never been able to resist. I watched the tension in his shoulders, the war on his face. He was a CEO who could command boardrooms and crush competitors, but in the face of Kelly's tears, he was powerless. After a long, tense silence, he sighed, his entire body slumping in defeat. "Fine. Where are you?" He hung up and turned to me, his eyes filled with an apology that felt as hollow as our marriage. "Brooke, I'm sorry. She... she's threatening to do something st**id. I have to go see her. Will you come with me?" I hesitated. The divorce papers were sitting on our counter at home. My escape was already in motion. This was just one more night of humiliation. One last one. "Fine," I said, my voice barely a wh**per. We arrived at the Holland family mansion to find Kelly waiting on the porch, her face tear-streaked but her eyes gleaming with triumph. The moment Easton got out of the car, she threw herself into his arms, clinging to him like a vine. He stiffened, trying to gently push her away. "Kelly, stop." She just held on tighter, burying her face in his ch**t. "Don't leave me, Easton. Please." He looked over her head, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, helpless moment before he finally gave in, his arms wrapping around her in a gesture of reluctant comfort. I watched from the driver's side, a silent, invisible spectator to their endless drama. My heart felt like a block of ice in my ch**t. "Brooke," Easton's voice was strained. "You drive." It wasn't a request. It was an order. We were going to her parents' lake house. They were worried about her. "Easton, I..." "Just do it, Brooke," he said, his voice sharp with impatience. He didn't want to argue in front of her. He got in the back with Kelly, leaving me to take the wheel. I was no longer his wife; I was his chauffeur. The humiliation burned in my gut as I felt the eyes of the Hollands' staff on me. I was the hired help, the placeholder, the substitute. I started the car, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles were white. In the rearview mirror, I could see Kelly whispering in Easton's ear, her hand sliding up his thigh. "Kelly, cut it out," he warned, his voice low and tight. She pouted, feigning innocence. "I'm just cold, Easton. Hold me." My stomach churned. I gripped the wheel tighter, focusing on the road ahead. He glanced at me in the mirror, his eyes filled with a fleeting apology. It meant nothing. Then, he turned back to her, his voice softening into that familiar, indulgent tone he only ever used for her. "Okay, Kelly. Okay." I let out a shaky breath, a bitter laugh dying in my throat. What a joke. This marriage, my life for the past five years. It was all a joke, and I was the punchline. The Holland family rarely interacted with Easton anymore, not since he'd married me. But now, as we pulled up to their sprawling lake house, they rushed out to greet him like a returning king. "Easton, you're finally here!" Mrs. Holland exclaimed, hugging him warmly. "Easton, I knew you wouldn't abandon our Kelly," Kelly cooed, clinging to his arm possessively. They swept him inside, a whirlwind of affection and familiarity, leaving me completely alone. I sat in the car, the engine off, the silence deafening. They had forgotten I even existed. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. A text from Easton. `You can go home first. I'll stay here tonight.` My fingers went numb. He didn't even have the decency to say it to my face. I was dismissed. Sent away like an employee whose shift was over. I stared at the screen, the words blurring through a film of tears I refused to let fall. It was over. It was finally, truly over. Chapter 3 Driving back to the city, the past five years played out in my mind like a movie I was forced to re-watch. My mother, Erna, had worked as a seamstress for the Spencer family's textile business before a machine malfunction left her with a permanent disability. We were the help. They were the elite. That was the line drawn between us from the day I was born. In the private high school I attended on a scholarship, that line was a wall. I was the charity case, the girl with the secondhand uniform and the working-class accent. Kelly Holland, with her perfect clothes and cruel smile, made sure I never forgot it. She and her friends cornered me in the locker room once, pushing me against the cold tiles. "Look at her," Kelly sneered, yanking my hair. "Do you really think you belong here?" I was terrified, helpless. Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. "Leave her alone." It was Easton. He was a senior, a god in the halls of that school. He stood there, effortlessly powerful, and Kelly's posse scattered like mice. He didn't even look at me. He just dealt with the situation, reported Kelly for bullying, and moved on. But I never forgot. A seed of a crush was planted that day, a foolish, hopeless admiration for the boy who had, for a moment, been my protector. I watched him from afar for years. I saw how he doted on Kelly, how he chased her through every breakup and tantrum. He was desperately in love with her. I knew I never stood a chance, so I buried that crush and focused on my studies. I excelled, pouring all my energy into my passion: narrative design for video games. Years later, fate threw us together again. I was working as a caterer at what was supposed to be Easton and Kelly's wedding. The guests were all assembled, the orchestra was playing, but the bride was a no-show. Kelly had sent a text. She'd run off with some European model. It wasn't the first time she'd left him standing at the altar. I saw Easton standing alone, his face a mask of fury and humiliation. In a fit of pure, vengeful spite, he turned, his eyes scanning the crowd, and they landed on me. "You," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Marry me." I was so shocked, I couldn't speak. He offered me a deal. A five-year contract marriage. He needed a wife to save face, to show Kelly she couldn't break him. I, with my quiet intelligence and unthreatening background, was the perfect candidate. And I, remembering the boy who saved me in the locker room, with that long-buried crush stirring in my heart, said yes. For five years, he played the part of a perfect husband. We were polite, respectful strangers sharing a house. He made sure my mother received the best medical care, that she was comfortable. He never forgot my birthday or a holiday, always presenting me with a thoughtful, expensive gift. In public, if anyone dared to look down on me, he would shut them down with a cold, protective glare. I allowed myself to hope. I thought maybe, just maybe, this performance had become real for him, too. Then, six months ago, I overheard him talking to his friend in his study. "I can't believe Kelly's coming back," his friend said. Easton's voice was weary. "I always knew she would." "What about Brooke? Are you just going to toss her aside?" I held my breath, my heart pounding against my ribs. I heard Easton sigh. "Brooke was always temporary. She's a cheap placeholder, a way to pass the time until Kelly was ready to come back to me. She knows her place." The words shattered my carefully constructed fantasy. A cheap placeholder. The truth was colder and crueler than I could have ever imagined. My five years of hope, of quiet devotion, turned to ash in my mouth. Chapter 4 His friend pressed him. "What about the prenup? She gets nothing if you initiate the divorce, right?" "Exactly," Easton confirmed. "It's ironclad. She won't cause any trouble. She's not that type." I had thought the prenup was a formality, a sign of his practicality. Now I saw it for what it was: a cage designed to ensure I would leave with nothing when he was done with me. The kindness, the protection, the thoughtful gifts-it was all part of the act. He wasn't protecting me; he was protecting his asset until he was ready to discard it. My marriage was a lie. A five-year-long, meticulously crafted deception. And I had fallen for it completely. Standing there, outside his study, a cold resolve settled over me. I would not play his game anymore. In the weeks that followed, Easton was barely home. He was always with Kelly. Her Instagram was a daily assault, a constant stream of photos of them together-at exclusive restaurants, on private jets, at lavish parties. She was always clinging to him, her smile a triumphant smirk aimed directly at me. She even tagged me in a few of the posts, a deliberate, public twisting of the knife. The pain eventually faded into a dull, hollow numbness. I started packing my things, sorting through the remnants of my life with him. In the back of his closet, I found a stack of boxes. They were the gifts I'd given him over the years-for his birthday, for Christmas, for our anniversaries. Not a single one had been opened. I ran my hand over a box containing a custom-made watch, one I'd spent months saving for and designing with a niche horologist I knew he admired. He'd given me a polite smile when I'd handed it to him, then it had disappeared, apparently into this graveyard of my affection. I couldn't even cry. The well of my tears had run dry. All I felt was a vast, empty coldness. That's when he called, his voice cheerful, oblivious. "Brooke, Kelly's having a small get-together tonight. I need you to be there." "I don't think that's a good idea, Easton," I said, my voice flat. "Kelly and I don't get along." His tone hardened instantly. "I'm not asking, I'm telling you. It's important. Be ready in an hour." He didn't care about me. He only wanted me there to serve some purpose for Kelly, to be a prop in their twisted drama. "Fine," I said, a bitter smile on my lips. Let them have their final show. He sent a driver. When I arrived at Kelly's penthouse, the party was in full swing. The moment I walked in, the music seemed to dip, the conversations faltering. I was the unwelcome specter at their feast. Kelly greeted me with a fake, saccharine smile. "Brooke! I'm so glad you could make it." Easton, standing by the bar, barely glanced in my direction. He was surrounded by his friends, laughing at something one of them said. I was an island in a sea of hostile faces. Kelly picked up a canapé from a silver tray. "Oh, look! Foie gras. You probably don't get this much where you're from, do you, Brooke? Is it too rich for your palate?" Her friends snickered. The air was thick with their condescension. My face went pale, my body rigid with the effort of not reacting. "That's enough, Kelly," Easton said from across the room. His voice was sharp, but I knew it wasn't for my sake. He was just protecting his own image, maintaining the facade of a man who defended his wife. An attack on me was an attack on his judgment for marrying me. That's all it ever was. Chapter 5 A flicker of amusement crossed Kelly's face. She loved this game, loved pitting us against each other, with her as the prize. "Alright, everyone!" she called out, clapping her hands. "Let's go into the game room!" As she passed me, she leaned in, her voice a venomous wh**per in my ear. "He's only putting up with you. Don't ever forget that." I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I followed the crowd into a room that looked like a high-tech arcade, complete with VR stations and a massive screen. I found a seat in a dark corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. Easton took the central couch, the king on his throne, surrounded by his court. Then, to my surprise, he stood up and walked over to my corner. He sat down next to me, not saying a word. The space between us was charged with a strange, uncomfortable energy. The party's atmosphere shifted. I saw Kelly's smile tighten from across the room. Her eyes, fixed on Easton sitting next to me, were blazing with jealousy. She couldn't stand it. Without missing a beat, she glided over and squeezed herself onto the couch, right between me and Easton, physically pushing me to the side. I felt Easton's gaze on me for a moment, but then it shifted, locking onto Kelly. It always did. She was radiant, holding court, her laughter bright and captivating. I had to admit, watching her, I could see the chasm between us. She was born for this world of effortless glamour and privilege. I was an imposter. I picked up a glass of whiskey from the table, the amber liquid promising a temporary numbness. Before the glass reached my lips, Easton's hand closed over mine, stopping me. "Don't drink that. You know you can't handle hard liquor." His voice was low, concerned. It was one of those confusing moments of care that had kept me hooked for so long. "How thoughtful," Kelly chimed in, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "But do you remember that cocktail you used to love, Easton? The one with the rare Peruvian bitters? I had to pull so many strings to get a bottle for your birthday one year." Easton's face softened at the memory. "I remember. That was the best drink I've ever had." "See?" Kelly said, looking at me with pity. "I know him." The people around them started murmuring,"They were always meant to be,""She's the only one who really gets him." I was the intruder, the third wheel in my own marriage. My face burned with shame. Kelly, sensing her victory, clapped her hands again. "Let's play a game! Seven Minutes in Heaven, but with a twist!" The rules were simple and designed for maximum humiliation. A random number generator would pair people up. The couple with the highest combined score would win the"privilege" of spending seven minutes together in the adjoining powder room. The crowd roared, their eyes all on Easton and Kelly. Easton looked intrigued. A slow smile spread across his face. The numbers flashed on the screen. Easton got a 98. The highest score. The crowd cheered. Then it was Kelly's turn. She got a 99. A perfect match. "She cheated!" someone yelled playfully. Kelly just smiled, her eyes locked on Easton, full of undisguised desire. It was his choice to make. Everyone was watching. I knew what he would choose. I always knew. I started to get up, to slip away before the final, public execution of my dignity. But then, Easton's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Chapter 6 "It's just a game, Brooke," Easton said, his voice low, but his eyes were fixed on Kelly. He let go of my wrist and stood up. He offered his hand to Kelly. She took it, her face glowing with triumph. The crowd erupted in cheers and catcalls as they disappeared into the small, dimly lit powder room. The door clicked shut behind them. I felt a cold shock, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My love for him, my hope, my naive belief that he might one day choose me-it was a foolish, one-sided fantasy. "Poor Brooke," one of Kelly's friends whispered loudly. "Still doesn't get it, does she?" I stood up, my legs trembling, and walked out of the room. I didn't look back. A few minutes later, the door to the powder room opened. Easton and Kelly emerged, their faces flushed. Kelly's lipstick was smeared, and on the pale skin of her neck, just below her ear, was a dark, angry-looking mark. A hi**ey. The sight sent a sharp, physical pain through my ch**t. I walked straight to the front door. "I'm not feeling well," I managed to say to a confused-looking friend of Easton's. "I'm going home." Easton saw me leaving, but he didn't move. He just watched me go, his expression unreadable, as Kelly wrapped her arms around his neck. I called an Uber, the city lights blurring past the window. The sky was dark and heavy, matching the storm inside me. My phone buzzed. A video message from a number I didn't recognize. From Kelly. I pressed play. It was them, in the powder room. The camera was shaky, but the image was clear. They were ki**ing, a desperate, hungry k**s. The video captured their conversation. "Why did you marry her?" Kelly's voice was a breathless wh**per against his lips. Easton pulled back, his face etched with a pain that looked almost genuine. "You left me, Kelly. What was I supposed to do?" "Will you divorce her?" she pressed, her hands tangled in his hair. "Will you come back to me?" He closed his eyes, a long, ragged sigh escaping his lips. "You know I can't say no to you. You've always owned me." The video ended. I stared at the black screen, my reflection a pale, hollow-eyed ghost. My heart, my marriage, my entire world had just been pulverized into dust. A sour taste rose in my throat. Kelly sent another message. `He's mine. He was always mine.` I didn't reply. I just watched the city lights streak by, feeling nothing. When I got back to our cold, empty penthouse, I walked straight to the bathroom. I twisted the wedding ring off my finger, the simple gold band that had once felt so heavy with promise. Without a second thought, I dropped it into the toilet and flushed. I watched it swirl and disappear into the drain. I pulled my suitcases from the closet and started packing. My tears were gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I was done. I was free. Just as I zipped the last bag, the front door opened. Easton and Kelly stood in the doorway. Easton's face was dark, thunderous. Kelly was hiding behind him, weeping dramatically. "What's wrong?" I asked, my voice steady. Easton's eyes were like chips of ice. He pointed a finger at me, his voice shaking with rage. "You're a thief, Brooke." He took a step toward me. "Kelly's diamond necklace is missing. The one her grandmother gave her. It's worth millions. Give it back, or I'm calling the police." I stared at him, my bl**d running cold. "I didn't take anything." He didn't believe me. I could see it in his eyes. The complete and utter lack of trust. My heart ached with a pain so deep it was almost physical. "Easton, I have never wanted a single thing from your family. You know that." A flicker of doubt crossed his face as a tear escaped my eye. He wavered for a second. But then Kelly, the master manipulator, started sobbing again. "Brooke, please, just give it back. It means so much to me. My grandmother gave it to me on her deathbed." I yanked my arm away from her touch. "I told you, I didn't take it!" Kelly stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of fake despair. She looked up at Easton, her eyes wide and pleading. "Easton, you know her background. Her mother..." She let the sentence hang in the air, the implication clear and venomous. People from my world were greedy. Desperate. Thieves. My face went cold. "What did you say about my mother?" Kelly saw her advantage. "I'm just saying, maybe you should have security check her place, too. People like that..." That was it. That was the line. I slapped her. Harder this time. The sound was like a gunshot in the silent room. ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &2&