100 Lovers, 1 Empty Marriage

I'd been married to Henry Harrison for eight long years.

In that time, he'd brought ninety-nine different women into our home.

And now, I was staring at number one hundred—a young, pretty thing standing right in the middle of my living room.

She shot me a defiant look before turning to Henry.

"Honey, is this your useless wife everyone's always talking about?"

Henry leaned back lazily in his chair and let out a careless, "Yep."

The girl strutted over and patted my cheek, a smirk twisting her lips.

"Tonight, you'll get to hear what a real woman sounds like."

That night, I lay in bed listening to their moans echo through the house.

The next morning, Henry told me to make breakfast, same as always.

I said no.

Maybe he'd forgotten—our marriage was nothing but a business deal.

And today marked three days until the contract ended.

Henry looked genuinely surprised. It was the first time in eight years I'd ever refused him anything.

He eyed me carefully, a puzzled look on his face.

"Mia Williams, did last night fry your brain or something?"

I didn't answer. Just held his gaze.

After a moment, my silence seemed to make him uncomfortable.

He waved a dismissive hand.

"Fine. Don't make it. And quit staring—it's creepy."

He called the housekeeper to make breakfast instead.

Just then, last night's girl sauntered over to me, wearing a triumphant grin.

"So… how was the show? Pretty exciting, huh?"

Before she could say more, Henry pulled her back.

"Don't be rude. Go get ready for breakfast."

She just lifted an eyebrow, oozing smugness.

At the table, Henry and the girl were all over each other.

I kept my head down, mind racing, already planning my escape.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my arm.

I looked up. Henry was standing over me, frowning.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" he asked, suspicion heavy in his voice.

I paused, then told him the truth.

"I'm thinking about what to do next."

Henry scoffed.

"What can you possibly do? Besides cleaning and cooking, you're useless."

His words were dripping with contempt, but they didn't even sting anymore. After all these years, I was immune.

For eight years, my whole world had revolved around him. I'd put my own dreams on hold—almost forgot who I used to be.

Eight years ago, my mother was dying. I was desperate for money.

Henry showed up like a knight in slightly tarnished armor.

He offered me five hundred thousand dollars.

The catch? Marry him. Be his beard—keep up appearances for the Harrison family.

For my mom, I said yes.

For eight years, I watched him parade one woman after another through our home.

Once, when he was drunk, he looked at me with unusual seriousness.

"Mia, we're from different worlds. Don't get any ideas."

I used to think he was just incapable of love.

Then, last year, I found out about Jennifer—his dead first love.

And yesterday's girl? She looked just like her.

So watching them together over breakfast didn't even hurt. It just made me more sure I was doing the right thing by leaving.

Henry snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"I said, what are you thinking about?"

I blinked, refocusing.

"I'm thinking about getting a job," I said calmly.