The Wrong Woman

Once they got in the car, the driver immediately started the engine and drove off.

In frustration, Imogen leaned against the window, putting some distance between herself and Jasper. "Jasper, why do you have to put me on the spot?"

Jasper closed his eyes and reclined against the seat, feigning sleep. "Putting you on the spot?"

"Isn't it obvious? I don't want to be in the same space as you. -"

"Imogen," Jasper interrupted, "You can hate me, be angry with me, or even hit me. But you cannot divorce me."

Imogen, still fuming, retorted, "This marriage is a sham. It was never valid!"

"A sham?" Jasper chuckled bitterly, slowly opening his eyes and turning to look at her, his gaze deep and mesmerizing. "Do you think anyone would believe that?" he uttered.

Imogen was rendered speechless by his question. She had heard of people marrying for money or appearances, but she had never heard of a wealthy man deceiving someone as poor as herself into marriage "I-I..." she stammered, unable to complete her sentence.

silence fell over, filling Imogen

were miles apart. Imogen was painfully aware of this

retreated to the room while Jasper, as he often did, went to the kitchen

man who had never touched a

up and changing

Re

kitchen She froze for a

Mr.

for me anymore. I

Morrison, you don't "

edge of the hot iron pan, feeling a sharp pain from the burn. He quickly withdrew his hand, his brow furrowing as he sucked in a breath. He

check on the burn.

Imogen's anxiety spiked. She immediately dropped the spatula and grabbed his large hand, her heart aching as she inspected the reddened mark. "You're

pulled him over to the sink, holding his hand under