Michael Anderson stared out at the panoramic view from his Manhattan penthouse. The city, a sprawling galaxy of lights against the black velvet of night, never slept. Neither did he. The luxurious life he’d built from the ground up—a fortress of wealth and influence—was the result of relentless work, calculated risks, and an insatiable hunger for control. But tonight, not even the glittering skyline of New York City could quench the inferno of fury burning in his chest. Jessica Vance, his fiancée, had shattered everything he thought he knew about trust and loyalty. Months ago, she had betrayed him, leaving him for a rival tech entrepreneur—a man who, in her words, offered less stability but more of a thrill.
Michael let out a bitter, humorless laugh. A thrill? He had dedicated himself to architecting the perfect future for them, only to be cast aside like a pawn in a game he was supposed to be winning. It wasn’t just the betrayal that gnawed at him; it was the public humiliation that came with it, whispered about in boardrooms and gossiped about on Page Six.
For weeks, he’d replayed the events in his head, a toxic feedback loop of anger and hurt. But tonight, clarity cut through the rage. It was time to act. Jessica needed to see that he hadn’t just survived her betrayal—he had upgraded. His plan was brutally simple: he would marry someone who was her complete opposite. A modest, down-to-earth woman whose authenticity would be a stark, stinging contrast to Jessica’s polished superficiality.
It was perfect. A marriage born not of love, but of vengeance.
The next morning, Michael walked the sprawling grounds of his Greenwich, Connecticut estate. The scent of freshly planted hydrangeas filled the crisp morning air, and the chirping of birds seemed to mock his inner turmoil.
That’s when he saw her: Emily Carter, a landscaper from the firm that managed his gardens. She was kneeling in the rich soil, her hands smudged with dirt as she carefully pruned the leaves of a small boxwood shrub. The simple grace of her movements caught his eye.
The morning sun illuminated her face, and her quiet dedication to her work was captivating. Michael stopped a few feet away, watching her in silence.
- Good morning, Mr. Anderson! — she said, her voice soft and polite, breaking the morning stillness.
- Good morning, Emily, — he replied, her name rolling off his tongue with more curiosity than he’d intended. — How long have you been working here?
- Almost two years, sir. I’ve been tending to these gardens since the renovation.
He nodded, though his mind was already racing miles ahead. Emily possessed something Jessica never had: genuineness. Her demeanor was simple, yet full of a quiet dignity. She was the perfect candidate.
In the following days, Michael made it a point to find Emily in the gardens. Casual conversations about horticulture evolved, and he learned more about her life. She was an only child, caring for a sick mother who needed costly experimental treatments. Emily worked tirelessly, juggling multiple jobs to support her family, never once complaining.
One afternoon, as she was packing up her tools, Michael decided to make his move.
- Emily, could I speak with you about something important? — he began, his voice firm but with a slight edge of hesitation.
- Of course, Mr. Anderson.
Michael took a deep breath.
- I want to get married, — he said directly, watching as surprise flickered in her eyes.
- To me? — Her voice was laced with disbelief. She let out a nervous laugh, assuming it was some kind of cruel, out-of-touch joke.
- Yes, — Michael confirmed, his tone unyielding. — But it’s not what you think. This wouldn’t be a traditional marriage.
He laid out his plan with cold, business-like precision. Emily would become his wife by contract—a facade to show Jessica and their entire social circle that he had moved on and was thriving. In return, he would cover all of her mother’s medical care at the best facility in the country and provide a generous financial settlement.
- This is wrong, — Emily replied, crossing her arms. — You want to use someone to get back at someone else.
- It’s not that simple, — Michael countered, his composure unwavering. — I need this, and you need the money for your mother. It’s a transaction.
- An empty transaction, — she shot back, her tone firm, her eyes serious.
Michael knew convincing her wouldn’t be easy. She had principles that wouldn’t bend easily, but he also understood the desperation of her situation. That night, he had a comprehensive medical file from top specialists delivered to her small apartment, along with a letter reiterating the terms of their agreement.