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 with

apart. Imogen was painfully aware of this disparity. With Jasper unwilling to divorce, she was at a loss for

Jasper, as he often did,

had transformed from a man who had never touched a kitchen utensil into someone who loved cooking

up and

Re

room and heard sounds echoing from the kitchen She froze

Mr.

for me anymore. I

Morrison, you don't "

of her grabbing, Jasper accidentally touched the edge of the hot iron pan, feeling a sharp pain from the burn.

check on the burn.

spiked. She immediately dropped the spatula and grabbed his large hand, her heart aching as she inspected the reddened

to the sink, holding his hand under the running water, gently rubbing