Liesel
I have a plan.
Langston declared war. He has no idea why I’m with Waylon. He has no clue about all of the struggles I’ve been through to get the money he so easily stole from my bank account. He has no idea what I will do to continue to survive.
Six months—that was the death sentence Langston gave me. I don’t give a damn about the time. Not anymore. But I do care about finding the truth.
Langston just sparked a fire in me.
This is war.
That was his goal in taking all of my money. He wanted to make me desperate. He wanted to make me beg him or Waylon for help. Dependent—that’s the one thing I vowed I’d never be again. I’ll do anything to protect myself before letting a man take care of me again.
Now, I want the truth, too. I want every damn secret Langston is keeping from me, and I want to use every single word against him. I want to drown him in his lies. I want to tear apart his family, his life.
I want everything from him.
But most of all—I want to know why Langston hates me. Why he started this war. Why?
I’m missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, and I’m tired of being left in the dark.
I’m a powerful woman. All the shit I’ve been through has made me invincible to pain. I no longer have fear. I no longer cry. That makes me stronger than Langston’s weak ass.
He still cries. He can still feel pain. I’m stronger than him.
I have a plan.
First, I need an unlimited source of money.
Then, I’ll lay my trap.
I know exactly where I’m getting the money. Thank god I signed the prenup already.
“Good morning,” Waylon says as he enters my kitchen in his suit, already dressed to head into the office.
“Good morning,” I say as I hold my cup of coffee and stand at the counter.
Waylon comes over and kisses me softly on the cheek. Then he heads to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup in a travel mug.
“What do you have planned for today? Headed into the office?” he asks as he secures his coffee lid.
“No, the office is running smoothly, but I thought I’d get away for the weekend.”
Waylon freezes. He knows what that’s code for. We have an agreement, he and I. I have needs he can’t satisfy and vice versa.
He can fuck whoever he wants. I can do whatever I want. We live separate lives when we need to. Our future marriage is about mutual gain. It’s about helping each other with our careers, our image, our lives. And it’s about having a steady fuck in each other’s bed. It’s not real love, but it works for us. It’s a modern relationship that doesn’t hide the fact that one single person can’t possibly fulfill every single one of our needs.
It’s been a while since I tested the arrangement, though. Before, it was just a verbal agreement. Now that we are getting married—it’s a legal contract in our prenup.
“You’ll take Maxwell with you. That isn’t an option.”
I nod. “I agreed to security. You should have the guys over this weekend to keep you company while I’m away.” That’s my way of saying he should invite a whore over to fuck since I won’t be here.
Waylon walks over to me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now that I’m running for governor, I shouldn’t be seen doing such things.”
His eyes bore into mine, letting me know that if I get caught, there will be consequences.
“Understood.” I nod back.