Barrage Reverses My MarriageChapter 1

My sister jilted David Hawthorne at the altar. “He’s a fake heir, poorer than me,” she scoffed. After her call, glowing text appeared:

[She’s a fool. The paternity test was wrong—David is the real heir!]

[One step from a dynasty, and she threw it away.]

Across the hall, David stood alone. Even in that cheap suit, he carried a powerful aura. I straightened my dress and approached.

“My sister isn’t coming,” I said softly. “This is our family’s fault. If you’ll have me… I’ll marry you instead.”

He studied my face—so like my sister’s, yet different. That day, as Jessica hunted for a new patron, I signed the papers.

I, Jenna Miller, became Mrs. Hawthorne.

* * *

Clutching the freshly stamped marriage certificate, my world felt tilted on its axis.

Before today, I’d only met David once, during a formal visit to our home. Jessica had forbidden me from speaking to any of her potential suitors, so to him, I was a complete stranger.

Yet here we were, legally bound, about to share a roof. The thought made my heart hammer against my ribs.

We soon arrived at his place, a cramped basement apartment. He ushered me inside, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "I'm going to take a shower. If you're hungry, there's food in the fridge."

I opened the small, humming refrigerator. Inside sat a single, sad-looking container of vegetable stir-fry.

A new line of text floated past my vision:

[He's so pitiful. Kicked out and saddled with a two-million-dollar debt to the Hawthornes for his upbringing. Now all he can afford is the cheapest takeout.]

[He can't stomach this stuff, though. He's barely eaten in two days.]

When David emerged from the bathroom, steam clinging to his broad shoulders, he found two portions of heated food served on chipped plates. I sat with my back to him, quietly eating my share.

The portion was small to begin with; split in two, it was gone in a few bites. But I’d deliberately waited until the sound of the shower stopped before I started eating.

On the way here, I'd searched for every article I could find about him. The golden boy of the Hawthorne dynasty, handsome and wealthy, accustomed to a life of luxury. Women of every type—sultry, innocent, vibrant, glamorous—had thrown themselves at him.

The reason he’d fallen for Jessica? She had supposedly saved a drowning child.

He had a weakness for kindness.

I couldn't stage a similar accident; that would be too obvious. But for a man who had lost everything, a woman who could face hardship with quiet grace, without complaint, was its own form of kindness.

It worked. His voice was husky when he finally spoke. "I thought… you'd be disgusted."

I turned and swallowed my last mouthful. "I'm not a picky eater. And I don't eat much anyway." I offered a small smile. "But this takeout can't be healthy. Starting tomorrow, why don't I cook for us?"

I didn't miss the flash of astonishment in his eyes. It was gone in an instant as he turned away to take a call in the corner.

That night, he insisted on sleeping on the floor while I took the bed. I didn't object. I couldn't seem too eager, as if I expected to consummate the marriage on our first night.

In the dead of night, my phone lit up with a text from Jessica.

"Found a new guy. He has some single friends, pick one. We can both be set for life."

Below the message was a collage of five photos featuring men old enough to be our father, each one less appealing than the last.

I replied with a picture of my marriage certificate.

"I'm married."

Her response was instantaneous and explosive. A barrage of calls, all of which I ignored, followed by a furious text.

"Are you insane, Jenna? Picking up my trash is one thing, but him? The fake heir?"

"You'd rather live in poverty than take the easy way out. You deserve to be poor forever!"

In the glow of the screen, I saw another line of text appear.

[You're the fool, Jenna. In forty days, old Mr. Hawthorne is going to bring David home. If you don't secure your place now, you'll lose your ticket to the good life!]

Forty days. That was more than enough time.

On the floor, David shifted. He must have noticed the light from my phone.

"David," I whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"No."

"I heard you on the phone earlier. Was it the Hawthornes, calling about the debt?"

"Yes."

"How much do you have left to pay?"

He was silent for a few seconds before answering, his voice flat. "Five million."

[Why is he lying? It's just over two million.]

As I processed that, David’s voice cut through the darkness, laced with a cynical edge. "What, having second thoughts?"

No. This was exactly what I was waiting for.

I sat up, opened my banking app—I’d added him as a contact earlier—and began transferring him money.

Everything from my bank account, my digital wallet, my payment apps, and even the cash in my purse.

It all went to him.

Total: $9,828.43.

His phone buzzed repeatedly. I watched his expression shift from confusion to shock, his breathing growing uneven.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It's everything I have. Use it for the debt."

"I know it's just a drop in the bucket, but my paycheck from my part-time job clears tomorrow—that's another $580. I'll get my security deposit back, too, that’s $330. And my salary next week is $4,200. I'll send it all to you the second I get it."

He flicked on the lamp. The dim, yellow light illuminated the sharp, elegant lines of his profile, now trembling slightly.

"I'm asking what you mean by giving me your money."

I met his gaze, my expression utterly serious, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"We're married now. That means we're a team. For better or for worse."

The disbelief on his face was so profound it was almost painful to watch.

My heart began to race again, a frantic, hopeful rhythm.

This was it. The first real step.

Jessica, we'll see who deserves to be poor forever.