Betrayed by My Husband, Taken by His Billionaire Uncle novel · Chapter 32 of 32
Chapter 32: Open
August didn't even blink.
"Name it."
"We get married at the Mill," I said. "With my flowers. Every single one. I do them myself."
"Done."
"And no prenup."
The bakery woman stopped banging her thermos.
He looked at me for one second, in the cold, with the fireworks still going.
"I'm worth a great deal of money, Juliet."
"I know. I'm worth a building."
He laughed so loud the tattoo artist laughed too, without knowing why.
"No prenup," he said. "No conditions. Nothing on paper but your name next to mine."
"Then yes," I said. "All of it."
The annulment was final on the ninth of February.
The judge read the word "never" out loud in her courtroom, and Annabeth, in the back row, said "Amen."
Chandler wasn't there.
He was living in his mother's house in Charleston, waiting on a plea date, and he'd sent his lawyer.
In March I took the shears out to Eastover.
Truman sat in a lawn chair in his overcoat with a blanket over his knees and supervised all forty feet of the bed along the back wall.
"Deeper," he said. "She always went deeper."
"I've been planting gardenias since I was four, Pop."
"Then you know she was right."
By May they were waist-high and covered in tight green buds.
The wedding was the third Saturday in May, at the Mill.
I did every flower.
Gardenias, the first of the season from a grower in Florida, and white garden roses, and stock, and white tulips, one in every arrangement, for the first morning he bought one.
Annabeth did the rest.
She'd been ordained on the internet in ten minutes, same as the wrist move.
She wore a green dress and her nose stud and a little gold pin that said PARTNER.
The spinning floor was full.
The neighbors from Central Avenue, all in a row.
The nurse and the embryologist and the woman with the beaded chain, and half of Queen City Fertility.
Four of the TikTok brides, who'd booked me for June and wanted to see.
The woman with the cane from the board, in a big pink hat.
The airport woman, who turned out to cry at weddings.
At the back, in the double iron doors, Truman held out his arm to me.
He was eighty years old and had refused the wheelchair three times.
The rest of this chapter is part of the paid portion of the series. Chapters 1–16 of Betrayed by My Husband, Taken by His Billionaire Uncle are free to read — start from the beginning, then unlock the rest with coins in the app.
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