Neglected and Ignored by Her Billionaire Husband (Billionaire Marriage in Crisis #28)

1. Izzy

— ? —

Izzy

Seven Years Ago

The radiator clangs again, the third time in ten minutes, and I decide right then that I love this apartment more than anywhere I’ve ever lived. Despite all its quirks, it feels like home.

Wilson pulls me closer on our mattress. We bought it for sixty dollars from a guy named Hector, who threw in the sheets for free because he said we looked like nice kids who needed a break.

The springs squeak every time one of us shifts and there’s a water stain on the ceiling shaped like Florida. The bathroom is so small you have to stand in the tub to close the door.

But it’s perfect, because he’s in it. We’ve spent the past year making these four walls ours, his records in the corner and my half-finished paintings leaning against the radiator, and every drafty window holds a memory now.

It’s ours. That’s what makes it perfect.

“I’m going to fix that radiator tomorrow.” He murmurs it into my hair.

“You’ve been saying that for three days.” I press my freezing feet against his calves and he yelps but doesn’t pull away, just wraps himself tighter around me. “At this point I don’t even mind the noise.”

“I’ll fix it this weekend.” He traces a slow circle on my hip with his thumb. “I watched a YouTube video.”

“Oh, so you’re handy now?” I poke his ribs and he squirms, grabbing my hand.

“I can be handy.” He pins my hand against his chest, trapping it there.

“Wilson, you put three holes in the wall for one shelf.” I squeeze his fingers. “I love that you try. But maybe we just accept this isn’t your thing.”

“Wow.” He pulls back to look at me, mock wounded. “Just like that?”

“Mm-hmm.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine. I love you anyway.”

“You married me anyway.” He props himself up on one elbow and grins down at me, that crooked grin that got me years ago in a coffee shop when I was crying over a failed exam and he handed me his napkin without saying anything. “So clearly it’s not a dealbreaker.”

I reach up and touch his face. Because I can. Because he’s mine now. Twelve hours ago we stood in front of a clerk at City Hall and promised each other forever while his father’s voicemail sat unanswered in his pocket.

My mother’s last words to me won’t stop playing in my head.

Don’t marry a man for his potential, Isadora. Most of them never get anywhere.

Maybe I’m stupid for believing in him.

But I love him. And even if this is our life forever, this cramped apartment with the broken radiator and the sixty-dollar mattress, I’d be happy. As long as we’re together, I’d be happy.

“I married you because you looked pathetic standing at that altar by yourself.” I pat his cheek twice. “Someone had to take pity on you.”

“The altar was a folding table.” He clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him.

“With a fake depressing plant that was basically dead.” I keep my face straight.

“And somehow, standing next to that depressing thing in my borrowed suit, I convinced the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen to marry me.” He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. “Still can’t believe you said yes.”

“I can’t believe you cried in front of the clerk.” I shove his shoulder and he rocks back, laughing.

“Those were happy tears.” He catches my hand before I can shove him again.

“You full-on sobbed, Wilson. The clerk asked if you were okay.”

“I was overwhelmed.” He brings my hand to his lips. “I was marrying you. What was I supposed to do, play it cool?”

“Most people manage.”

“Most people aren’t marrying you.” He kisses my knuckles. “I’m allowed to be a mess about it.”

I look down at my hand in his. The ring has been turning my finger green since the night he put it on me.

Thin gold, forty dollars from a pawn shop, four months of him skipping lunch to afford it, and today it did double duty as my wedding band because a second ring wasn’t in the budget. I love it anyway.

“Hey.” I poke his chest with my free hand. “Come home for dinner Tuesday.”

He blinks. “We live together. I’m literally always home for dinner.”

“I know. I just wanted to say it.” I shrug. “Felt like a wife thing to say.”

“Tuesday.” He’s grinning now. “I’ll be there. And Wednesday. And Thursday. Every day, Izzy. You’re stuck with me.”

“Every day?”

“Every single one.” He kisses my green-stained finger. “Get used to it.”

Through the window I can see the fire escape. My coffee cans are lined up out there, full of dirt and hopeful little tomato plants that will probably die because I have no idea what I’m doing.

I have no idea what I’m doing with any of this, honestly. I’m twenty-four. I just married a man with four hundred dollars to his name.

His father told him he was dead to him if he went through with it. My parents didn’t come because they thought I was throwing my life away. Our reception was eleven friends on a rooftop with cheap champagne and string lights Wilson hung himself.

It shouldn’t work. Every logical part of my brain knows that. But Wilson looks at me the way nobody else ever has. So maybe logic is overrated.

“Dance with me.” He’s already moving, pulling me up from the mattress.

“We danced three times at the reception.” I let him pull me up anyway.

“That was hours ago. I’ve recovered.” He steadies me when I stumble on the tangled sheets.

“There’s no music.” I gesture at the empty room with its bare walls and single lamp.

“I’ll sing.” He tugs me toward the kitchen, which is just a corner of the same room. A hot plate, a mini fridge, four feet of counter. “I’m an excellent singer.”

“You got kicked out of your college a cappella group.”

“I left voluntarily.” He spins me once, the forty-dollar dress flaring out, and catches me when I crash into his chest. “Creative differences.”

“They voted you out. Unanimously.”

“Semantics, Izzy.” He wraps his arms around me and starts humming off-key, swaying us in a tiny circle past the hot plate and the stack of dishes we need to wash.

I rest my cheek on his shoulder and close my eyes. His heartbeat is steady under my ear. His hand spreads warm across my lower back.

This is either the smartest thing I’ve ever done or the dumbest. I don’t even care which.

“Izzy, hey.” His voice has changed.

“Hmm, what?” I keep my eyes closed.

“I need you to promise me one thing.”

The drop in his voice makes me pull back and look at his face. The playfulness is gone. His jaw is tight and his eyes have gone dark.

“You’re scaring me.” I search his face for a joke that isn’t coming.

“Good.” He cups my face in both hands. His fingers are shaking. “I need you a little scared for this one. I need you to remember it.”

“Okay. I’m listening.” My voice comes out small.

“I have plans, Izzy. Big plans.” He holds my gaze. “You know that.”

“I know.” I hold on to his wrists.

“They’re going to work. I’m going to build this for real. And when I do, everything changes. The money. The access. The people who suddenly want you in the room.” He swallows hard. “It changes what you think you deserve. It changes who you are.”

“Wilson, what are you…”

“Let me finish.” His fingers tighten on my face. “I know things are going to get crazy. The company is taking off and there’s going to be long nights and stress and times when I’m not at my best.”

The radiator clangs. Neither of us moves.

“But I need you to hear this.” His voice goes soft. “You’re it for me, Izzy. You’re the whole point. Everything I’m building, it’s so we can have a life together. A real life. One where we’re not worried about rent or eating ramen for the third night in a row.”

“I like ramen.” I’m smiling now despite the tears.

“You hate ramen. You told me last week you’d rather starve.”

“Okay, I hate ramen.” I grip his wrists. “But I’d eat it forever if it meant I got to keep you.”

“You’re not going to have to.” He presses his forehead to mine. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m going to work hard, yeah. But it’s for us. It’s always going to be for us. You come first. Always.”

“Always is a big word.”

“I’m a big word guy.” He grins and it’s the grin I fell in love with, the one that makes him look like he’s getting away with murder. “You married me. You’re stuck with me now.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“Then hold me to it.” The grin goes, and his thumbs press into my cheekbones. “If I ever make you feel like you come second to the company, you leave. Promise me, Izzy.”

“Wilson, don’t…”

“Promise me you’ll leave. A man who does that to you doesn’t deserve you, and I’d rather lose you than turn into him.”

The radiator clangs again. My eyes are stinging.

“I promise.” It comes out in a whisper. “But you’ll never give me a reason.”

“I’ll never give you a reason.”

He kisses my forehead, slow and sweet.

“I’m going to give you everything, Izzy. Just watch.”

And I believed him. Standing in that terrible kitchen with the clanging radiator and his hands warm on my face, I believed every word.

Now

The candles have burned down to stubs. I’ve counted them four times because there’s nothing else to do.

Twelve candles around a crystal vase of peonies.

Wilson knows I love peonies. Or his assistant knows, and she placed the order, because that’s her job now.

Remembering the things he used to remember himself.

The wax has hardened all over the white tablecloth. The champagne bucket is full of melted ice. Two plates sit under silver covers, cold for hours now.

Table set for two, but the chair across from me is empty.

I’m wearing the red dress.

He loves the red dress. Three years ago at some benefit, he leaned over during the speeches and whispered that it made him want to skip the whole event and take me straight home.

We left before dessert. We barely made it through our front door.

The dress got a tear in the side seam. His tailor fixed it the next day without a single question.

I bought a new one for this trip. Same shade, different designer. Eight thousand dollars instead of two hundred. I thought maybe it would remind him of who we used to be.

Remind him of what? He’d have to show up first.

My phone sits on the table where his plate should be. Dark and silent.