Revenge Of The Iconic Ex -Wife

The Wedding

Anabelle’s pov

Uncle Logan slammed his fist on his polished desk, the mere sound earning a loud echo. “I said that's enough out of you, Anabelle! Don't you know that this is the man you're going to marry?”I froze. “Wait. What?”“You agreed to marry him, didn't you?” Uncle Logan rose to his feet. “This marriage is happening.”“Like hell it will!” I turned back to Romero who had frozen mid-step. He whipped around and caught me staring back at him.The anger in his eyes shifted into something colder. He hated me. There was no way in hell I was going to get married to this man.“Annabelle, what are you saying about this?” Uncle Logan asked.I opened my mouth to lash at Romero when suddenly, reality crashed down on me. If I did say ‘no’, then my inheritance; the power I needed to reclaim my life!; I would lose everything all over again.For a second, I imagined refusing and choosing the hard way but starting from scratch, proving myself in the hospital, and earning everything back slowly was not me.I had spent the last 3 years letting Louis decide my fate and in the end, I had lost not just my career but my confidence, and my dignity. I wasn't going to spend another 3 years clawing up my way from nothing. I needed — desperately needed — that inheritance. So I did what any reasonable human would. I swallowed my pride and forced out the bitter words stuck in my throat. “Fine…” I shivered at the mere thought. “I will marry Romero.”Romero's eyes snapped to mine and he scoffed. That wasn't exactly what I had expected. If anything, I knew he wouldn't look pleased.I expected him to argue but he pursed his lips and turned aloof. I'll take that as a yes.Uncle Logan clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now that you both have agreed, we will get on with the wedding. It'll be a small and simple wedding. A bit discreet for the public eye… ” I barely listened to the rest of the conversation. All I knew was I had just agreed to marry a man I despised at first sight and the worst was, there was no turning back. You know what? Right now, I was there because this wedding is a joke.The day of the wedding arrived quicker than I imagined. There were no family members pretending to be happy for me, no flowers or bridesmaids, not even a white dress. It was a quiet and honest-to-God low-key wedding where only Uncle Logan, Romero and I were the only witnesses. Romero didn't even smile and neither did I.When Uncle Logan finally pronounced us as husband and wife, I forced myself to look at my new husband.Romero met my gaze, not saying anything. And neither did I. It was better that way. Uncle Logan had gifted us a beautiful penthouse after the wedding. He even said it would grant us peace and happiness but I was 1000% sure that none of that was going to happen.The housekeeper, an Asian woman in her mid-40’s, gave us both a tour of the place. It was a five-star pad with two floors, a private rooftop, and two separate bedrooms. I let out a sigh of relief at that last part. Thank God I wouldn't share a bed with that block of ice.After the tour, the housekeeper left and an unbearable silence filled the air.Romero loosened his tie. He must've noticed that I was staring at him when he snapped with a “What?”“Why are you frowning? It's not like I forced you into this.” I said with a sigh.“Do you think any of this was my idea?” He scoffed.“Who knows?” I muttered, looking away.“You're one to talk.” He shrugged the tie off him. “Don't you need this marriage, Annabelle? Last time I checked somebody needed marriage to claim mommy and daddy's inheritance.”Okay. That stung.“Don't speak about my parents that —”He cut me off. “I don't give a rat's ass if you want this but just know that I don't care. If I that this won't work then the rules are simple : stay out of my goddamn way and I'll stay out of yours!”.“Fine by me.” I said through gritted teeth.He turned to the stairs and disappeared into his room.I curled my fingers into a tight fist. “One year, Anna. Try to make it bearable.”But as I thought about what Romeo said, I hissed. I hate that man more than I ever thought was possible and I've never hated someone this much.What should I do?One week later, I strolled into the living room and found Romero sitting on the couch, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, a sign mocking me like he didn't care. “Well, well, well, don't you look comfortable. You sure know how to treat a prison sentence like a home.” I said with a sneer. “It's a prison sentence but I'm..” he met my gaze. “I'm not the one suffocating. I bet you want to strangle me right now.”“You bet I do.” I hissed.He crossed his arms across his chest. “What do you want?” How did he read me so quickly?I cleared my throat. “We need to talk.” He exhaled sharply. “Finally. I was wondering when you were going to talk. So go on. Out with it.”I rolled my eyes and began. “Let's get one thing straight here. I'm only here because of my inheritance.”“I figured.”That reply stung. “That means, after a year, this is over. We get a quiet divorce and disappear from each other's lives.”“So?” He didn't react the way I thought he would. Matter of fact, he was unfazed.I heaved a sigh. “Until then, we will have some ground rules.”He smirked. “I'm listening.”That smirk… I hate him!I held up a finger. “One, don't fall in love with me.”“You're not my type to begin with. Next.” He replied immediately.Jerk!I continued. “Two, we will continue to live like strangers. You do your thing and I'll do mine. No checking in, no fake couple nonsense. And if my uncle asks, we'll tell him what he wants to hear. Got it?” Romero smirked. “The third?”I lifted my chin. “Three, stay the hell out of my way.”He smirked again and then slowly, rose to his feet. “Well, darling Annabelle, I have a rule of my own too.”I frowned. “What?”He kept walking towards me and I felt myself shrinking backwards. “If I have to follow your rules then you have to follow mine, don't you think?”I didn't like where this was going. I kept walking back till my back hit the wall. “What rule is that?”He planted his hand on the wall right next to my ear and leaned forward. “You don't get to tell me what I feel.”“What?” I whispered.“It means,” his eyes fell on my lips. “You don't get to tell me not to love you.”“W…what?” I stuttered.For someone who graduated top of he e class at Harvard Medicine, I was losing my vocabulary.“You don't get to tell me not to love you,” he repeated with a grin. “Because I already do.”“What?!”