Married to the Man Who Spoils Me

“SMACK!”

The leather strap cracked against Audrey Bennett’s arm.

She stumbled backward, lost her footing on the stone terrace, and hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

Cold rain drifted beneath the porch roof, soaking through her thin clothes. The early-autumn wind cut straight through the fabric, leaving her cheeks numb and her fingers trembling.

“Get out!” her father roared. “Get out of my house, and don't you dare come crawling back! I hope a car runs you over the moment you step onto the street!”

From the doorway, her older sister, Vanessa, folded her arms and watched with undisguised satisfaction.

“Make sure she learns her lesson, Dad. She needs to understand that she can't go around stealing other people's men.”

Stealing?

Audrey almost laughed.

Vanessa's boyfriend had visited the house that afternoon. He'd glanced at Audrey a few times during dinner—nothing more. But apparently, that was enough to turn Vanessa's jealousy into a full-scale family emergency.

And, as always, their father had chosen his favorite daughter's side without bothering to ask a single question.

It was never anything important. A careless glance. A misunderstood remark. A small mistake that somehow became a crime punishable by humiliation, beatings, and expulsion.

In the Bennett household, Audrey could do no right.

She lifted her head, meeting her father's furious stare.

His expression darkened.

“You still have the nerve to look at me?”

He raised the strap again.

“You little sl*t! First you try to seduce your own sister's boyfriend, and now you want to challenge me?”

The next blow landed across her arm.

Pain flared beneath her skin. Audrey's eyes burned, and tears gathered along her lower lashes, but she refused to let them fall.

She curled her hands into fists beneath her sleeves.

That's it.

This is the last time.

Her father seized her by the arm and dragged her toward the gate. Before she could steady herself, he shoved her outside.

Her elbow struck the wet stone.

A sharp, sickening pain shot through her arm, and for one breathless second, she could only lie there, staring at the rain-darkened ground.

“Stay out here and think about what you've done!” he shouted. “You can come back when your sister decides she's forgiven you!”

The iron gate slammed shut.

Audrey heard the lock click.

Then silence.

The lights inside the house remained on for a little while. Through the distant windows, she could make out warm golden light spilling across the living room. Her family was gathered together, doing everything they could to cheer Vanessa up.

Nobody came to check on Audrey.

Nobody even remembered that today was her twentieth birthday.

She stared at the glowing windows and let out a small, bitter laugh.

Of course.

What had she expected?

A birthday cake? A few kind words? Someone asking whether she was cold?

She should have known better than to expect affection from people who had spent her entire life making her feel like an unwanted guest in her own home.

A bolt of lightning split the sky. Thunder followed, and the rain grew heavier.

Audrey wiped her face with the back of her hand, though it made little difference. She checked her pocket to make sure her driver's license was still there, then pulled out her phone.

The screen flickered once before dying completely.

“Perfect,” she muttered. “Absolutely perfect.”

She pushed herself to her feet.

From this moment on, she was done with the Bennett family.

Whatever happened next, she would face it alone.

She turned away from the house and walked into the storm.

By the time Audrey reached a bus shelter, she could barely feel her toes.

She had no money, no working phone, and nowhere to go. The rain had soaked her hair until wet strands clung to her forehead and cheeks. She sank onto the bench, wrapped her arms around herself, and tried to stop shivering.

The street was almost deserted.

Headlights passed occasionally, stretching into long, watery streaks across the pavement before disappearing into the darkness.

Audrey had no idea how long she sat there.

Ten minutes? An hour?

Time had become meaningless.

She was exhausted, cold, and beginning to feel strangely light-headed. Every thought seemed to drift farther away, as though her mind were slowly disconnecting from the rest of the world.

Then a shadow fell across her knees.

A man's voice cut through the rain.

“Marry me. Name your price.”

Audrey blinked.

She had been crouched for so long that her legs had gone numb. Slowly, she lifted her head.

Wet bangs obscured most of her vision, but she could make out a tall figure standing in front of her. The man wore a dark coat over an immaculate suit. Even beneath the dim streetlights, there was something unmistakably commanding about him.

He looked as though he belonged in a private lounge at a five-star hotel, not on a deserted street in the middle of a storm.

A pen appeared in front of her.

Then a blank check.

Audrey stared at it.

Oh.

So this was what happened when a person finally lost her mind.

She took the pen.

If she was hallucinating, she might as well make the experience worthwhile.

With unsteady fingers, she wrote a number across the check.

$100,000,000,000.

One hundred billion dollars.

There.

If she was going to dream, she might as well dream big.

The man glanced down at the number. A quiet, almost amused breath escaped him.

“Quite an appetite you have.”

Audrey squinted up at him.

She was probably feverish. That had to be it. First, she got thrown out of her own home on her birthday. Then she nearly froze to death at a bus stop. Now some impossibly handsome heir had appeared out of nowhere to offer her a marriage proposal.

What was next? A secret royal inheritance?

She really needed to stop watching ridiculous television dramas.

Rainy night? Check.

Homeless young woman? Check.

Mysterious rich man? Check.

Apparently, collecting all three unlocked a hidden achievement.

“That's right,” she mumbled, lifting her chin. “If you're going to act like some arrogant billionaire, at least have the money to back it up. Transfer the funds now, or stop wasting my time.”

She made a dismissive little sound.

“Honestly. All that attitude.”

Then she tried to turn away with as much dignity as her frozen body could manage.

Her legs promptly betrayed her.

She pitched sideways and landed flat on her backside.

For a moment, Audrey sat on the wet pavement, staring blankly at the sky.

Wonderful.

Even my imaginary rich man has front-row seats to my humiliation.

Before she could attempt to stand, the man bent down and swept her into his arms.

Audrey barely had the strength to protest.

His coat was warm. His arms were firm, and the steady heat radiating from him made her realize just how violently she had been shivering.

Her clothes were drenched, but her skin was burning.

He frowned when he felt her forehead.

“You're running a fever.”

Audrey tried to open her eyes.

“Don't worry,” she whispered. “I'll be dead soon anyway.”

“Not tonight, you won't.”

His voice was low and cool, but his hold tightened slightly as he carried her toward a black luxury sedan waiting at the curb.

The rear door opened.

He settled her onto the leather seat, reached into his pocket, and placed a sleek black card in her hand.

“Here,” he said. “Your hundred billion.”

Audrey's fingers closed around the card.

The man's voice was the last thing she heard before darkness swallowed the world.

“One hundred billion. It's yours.”

She managed a faint, satisfied nod.

What a wonderful dream.

A handsome stranger. A fortune. A warm car.

Perhaps the universe had finally decided to give her a decent birthday present.

With the ghost of a smile on her lips, Audrey let her eyes close.

Not bad.

If this is how I die, at least I'll go out happy.

When Audrey opened her eyes again, the ceiling above her was white.

Perfectly white.

She blinked several times, then shifted against what felt like a mattress stuffed with clouds.

“Am I in heaven?”

Her voice sounded scratchy and unfamiliar.

She remembered the rain. The bus shelter. A man who had offered to marry her.

Then everything became a blur.

Audrey tried to sit up.

Something hard pressed against her palm.

Curious, she opened her fingers.

A black card gleamed in the morning light.

Not just any black card, either. This one bore an intricate gold crest and lettering that she recognized from countless business headlines and society magazines.

Her eyes widened.

No.

Absolutely not.

That was the exclusive insignia of the Blackwood family, one of the most powerful dynasties in the country. Their corporate empire stretched across finance, real estate, and industries Audrey could barely begin to imagine.

The Blackwood Group.

The Blackwood Financial Group.

People like them didn't appear at random bus stops to rescue broke college students.

And they certainly didn't hand out their family black cards to strangers.

Audrey turned the card over.

It was real.

She stared at it for several seconds, waiting for the room to dissolve around her.

It didn't.

Before she could make sense of anything, the bedroom door opened.

A man stepped inside carrying a bowl of porridge.

He wore a black lounge shirt and matching trousers, the simple clothes doing nothing to soften his sharp features or imposing presence. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expression was as composed as if he were walking into a boardroom rather than checking on a woman who had apparently spent the last three days unconscious.

“Awake?” he asked.

Audrey recoiled against the pillows.

“Who—who are you?”

Her gaze darted toward the door.

Then the windows.

Then the unfamiliar room.

Oh, God.

Had she been kidnapped?

Had she somehow managed to escape one disaster only to fall straight into another?

The man placed the bowl on a nearby table. With a press of a remote, the curtains began to slide open, flooding the room with pale morning light.

He turned back to her.

“Alexander Blackwood,” he said calmly. “Your husband.”

Audrey froze.

“...What?”

“You heard me.”

For several seconds, she could only stare at him.

Then she came to a conclusion.

She was in a psychiatric hospital.

There was simply no other explanation.

She threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed. She didn't even bother looking for her shoes.

“Help!” she shouted, bolting toward the door. “Somebody help me! Let me out!”

If she could get outside, she could find a phone and call the police.

She could worry about the rest later.

The bedroom door swung open.

Audrey skidded to a stop.

A line of uniformed household staff stood in the corridor. There were dozens of them, arranged with such precision that they looked as though they had been waiting for an inspection.

At the sound of the opening door, every head turned toward her.

Then, as one, they bowed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood.”

Audrey stared.

The staff bowed even lower.

“It's a pleasure to see you awake, Mrs. Blackwood.”

Her mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Mrs. Blackwood?

No. No, no, no.

She had definitely gone insane.

Perhaps the correct way to communicate with people in a psychiatric institution was to act as though everything they said made perfect sense.

Audrey offered the staff an awkward little bow of her own.

“Good morning to you, too.”

They straightened just enough to bow again when she moved.

Audrey tried smiling.

They looked even more delighted.

She stopped smiling.

They bowed again.

“Right,” she whispered. “Very normal. All perfectly normal.”

Then she turned and ran.

She made it down the staircase, across a sunlit hallway, and toward a set of tall windows overlooking a manicured lawn.

She had no idea where the exit was. She didn't care.

She drew a deep breath, pushed the window open, and shouted, “Goodbye, you lunatics!”

Then she climbed through.

Or tried to.

Her bare foot slipped against the sill.

A second later, Audrey tumbled onto the grass with all the grace of a dropped sack of laundry.

She lay there, stunned, with a blade of grass stuck to her cheek.

Behind her, footsteps approached at a measured pace.

Alexander appeared at the window, looking down at her.

For the first time since meeting her, he seemed genuinely uncertain.

Was she always like this?

Had I made a mistake?

He crossed the lawn, bent down, and lifted her into his arms before she could attempt another escape.

By the time he carried her back into the house, several black-suited security men had appeared behind him.

Audrey glanced at them.

Then at Alexander.

Then at the perfectly ordinary-looking mansion surrounding them.

She swallowed.

Perhaps it was wise not to challenge a man who had an entire security team following him around.

For now.

She was placed on a sofa in the sitting room. Audrey immediately folded her hands over her knees and sat as still as a child waiting to be scolded in kindergarten.

Alexander sat opposite her.

Without a word, he placed the check on the coffee table.

Beside it, he laid two official marriage documents.

Audrey stared at them.

“No.”

She picked them up.

Her eyes moved across the printed names.

Audrey Bennett.

Alexander Blackwood.

Then she looked at the photograph attached to the document.

There she was, standing beside the very man seated across from her.

A seal marked the corner of the paperwork.

Her fingers began to tremble.

She flipped through the pages, searching for an explanation, a mistake, a hidden camera—anything that would prove she hadn't somehow sleepwalked into the most absurd marriage in human history.

Nothing.

She was married.

Actually married.

To Alexander Blackwood.

The man whose family crest appeared on the black card in her hand.

The man who had carried her out of the rain.

The man who had apparently taken her drunken, feverish demand for one hundred billion dollars seriously.

Audrey's lips twitched.

Then twitched again.

“This is a dream,” she announced.

Alexander watched her without speaking.

“I'm still sick. I have a fever. This is a very elaborate hallucination.”

She looked down at the marriage documents again.

Her expression went blank.

Then, with the papers still clutched in both hands, she tipped sideways and collapsed against the sofa cushions.

Alexander leaned forward.

“Audrey?”

She closed her eyes tightly.

“It's fine,” she murmured. “I'll wake up soon.”

Her voice grew softer.

“And when I do, I'll still be homeless.”

She hugged the documents to her chest as if they were part of the dream, then went completely still.

Alexander looked at his new wife.

For a long moment, the famously unflappable heir to the Blackwood empire said nothing at all.

Then he glanced at the hundred-billion-dollar check on the table.

His gaze returned to Audrey.

Perhaps, he thought, married life was going to be considerably more interesting than he'd expected.

When Audrey Bennett woke up again, Alexander Blackwood was still there.

He sat in an armchair across the room, one leg crossed over the other, radiating the kind of intimidating authority that made the entire space seem to shrink around him.

Now that she was finally awake enough to think straight, Audrey had time to take a proper look at her new husband.

And, annoyingly, the man was ridiculously handsome.

His features were sharp and perfectly proportioned, his skin touched by a faint sun-kissed tan. His dark eyes held an unwavering intensity, and his expression suggested that the entire world could collapse around him without earning so much as a raised eyebrow.

Her gaze traveled downward.

The strong line of his jaw.

The slow movement of his throat as he swallowed.

The broad shoulders beneath his dark shirt.

Good grief.

Who gave one man permission to look like that?

Then Audrey noticed what he was holding.

Her e