The Heiress’s Revenge Chapter 08
His jaw locked. “You’re really doing this?” He lowered his voice. “If I publicly clarify tomorrow—that I, Greyson Rockwell, never agreed to any engagement, that this was entirely a Wentworth fabrication—who do you think ends up humiliated? Who looks pathetic? Thea. Don’t burn this to the ground. Turn back now. I’ll pretend none of it happened.”
I laughed.
“Greyson.” I lifted my eyes. Looked straight at him. “Have you been so busy comforting your little girl that you’ve developed delusions?”
He froze.
“From the very beginning.” Every word distinct. Clear. “When did I ever say the groom was you?”
The ease on his face flickered. Gone in a second. “Fine. The groom doesn’t have to be me. But it won’t be anyone else either. Even if she’s a woman I’ve discarded—until I release her, who dares marry her? The Jaspers? The Daxes? That Kieran?”
He didn’t see them as threats.
I was about to speak. His phone rang.
“…What?” His expression shifted. “A wedding with the Wentworth daughter? Three days? Who decided this? Did anyone ask me?”
He hung up, furious. His eyes locked onto me like he wanted to burn holes through my face.
“Thea. You’re really something. You even convinced my parents?”
He smiled. Cold. “I underestimated you. Fine.” One last look. “Three days. You wait.”
I pulled a folded marriage certificate from my bag. Still warm.
The Wentworth daughter he was talking about—wasn’t me.
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