The wife he didn't want (Broken Vows #2)

Chapter One

??

The Four Seasons Ballroom was brimming with the who’s who of the Miami tech scene and Sebastian Moore happened to be the toast of the evening.

It was an invitation-only party where the champagne flowed freely. Necks glittered with diamonds, wrists were adorned with expensive Swiss watches, and men and women swanned around in custom-made suits and designer dresses that cost more than most people’s monthly salaries.

Sebastian made his rounds through the ballroom, leaving a trail of turned heads in his wake.

“Hey, Sebastian,” a woman purred, giggling nervously behind her glass when his eyes brushed past hers.

At thirty-two, Sebastian looked every bit the poster boy for South Florida’s booming fintech corridor.

He was undeniably blessed in the looks department and he knew how to leverage it.

With a sharp jawline, dark hair trimmed with clinical precision and a custom charcoal suit hugging his athletic frame, his appearance was as calculated and flawless as his company’s ledger.

His start-up, PayVault, had just cleared its third quarter with a four hundred percent jump in transaction volume. He was the man of the hour.

Sebastian finally came to a stop near the floor-to-ceiling glass panelling at the far end of the ballroom, looking out toward Biscayne Bay as he swirled his neat scotch, taking a rare moment to catch his breath.

“You look like you’re calculating your exit.”

Sebastian turned, offering a smooth, practiced smile to Marcus, his Chief Technology Officer, and closest friend since their MIT days.

“If I sneak out this early, the hosts won’t be pleased. I’m trapped here for at least another hour.”

“Speaking of which,” Marcus said, subtly nodding toward the centre of the room. “The old man’s looking for you. He’s spent the last twenty minutes holding court with three VCs from New York.”

Sebastian’s gaze drifted across the crowded room, landing on Arthur Murray.

The silver-haired head of Murray Capital was holding court near the ice sculpture with a cigar tucked into his breast pocket, exuding the authority of a man worth three billion dollars.

And standing half a step behind Arthur, looking slightly out of place amidst the razor-thin socialites and bronzed influencers, was Elizabeth.

His wife.

Elizabeth, or Beth as her father called her though Sebastian rarely used the pet name, was wearing a floor-length burgundy gown that hugged her prominent curves that Miami actively tried to stamp out.

She had full cheeks, a soft, round jawline, and a figure that carried the extra weight rather well. Her dark brown hair was swept up in a neat, classic chignon, secured with polished silver pins and her eyes were fixed on her father with polite, tireless patience.

When her eyes caught Sebastian’s across the room, her face brightened instantly. The subtle tension in her shoulders melted, replaced by a warm, genuine smile that didn’t belong in this shark-infested pool.

She was a good person. Truly. And Sebastian loathed her for it. The nicer she was to him, the deeper his resentment ran.

He stiffened at her smile. Masking his resentment behind a cool, practiced politeness, he raised his glass in a brief acknowledgment before fixing his gaze back on the melting ice in his drink.

“She really is sweet, you know,” Marcus murmured, having caught the exchange. He was the only one who truly knew what this marriage was and how it had come to be.

“She’s dutiful,” Sebastian corrected flatly, taking a sip of his scotch.

“Her father raised her well. She’s simply playing the part expected of her, and PayVault is too big a whale to risk messing up.”

Duty beckoned and Marcus excused himself into the crowd. Left alone, Sebastian watched as Elizabeth excused herself from her father’s circle and began making her way toward him, navigating the sea of guests with careful, deliberate steps.

As she walked, a group of young analysts in tailored navy suits parted for her. Their eyes swept over her heavy frame with subtle, unmistakable condescension, and as soon as she passed, one of them smirked into his glass.

Sebastian felt a sudden, sharp prick of irritation deep in his chest. It was not defensive rage on her behalf; it was the familiar, bitter annoyance that had quietly poisoned his mind for half a decade.

Every time they stepped out into public together, he could read the room’s internal commentary clear as day.

There goes Sebastian Moore, the brilliant rising star of South Florida tech... and there is his wife.

Five years ago, PayVault had been weeks away from total insolvency. The code was brilliant, the market potential was massive, but the burn rate was lethal. Sebastian had pitched to dozens of firms, receiving polite rejections or predatory terms. Then came Arthur Murray.

Arthur had offered three million dollars in seed funding, followed by a guaranteed pipeline to institutional investors.

The condition had not been written in the term sheet. It had been delivered over a private steak dinner at Arthur’s private club.

My daughter is twenty-three, Arthur had said, cutting through his filet mignon with deliberate force.

She is soft-hearted, trusts people too easily and does not fit in with the wolves in this town.

She needs a man with drive, a man who knows how to build something, a man who will not leave her stranded.

And I think you are the perfect man for her.

“Who, me?” Sebastian had asked, blinking in surprise. “Why?”

“She saw that Entrepreneur cover of yours. Said you were a looker. I think attraction is a perfectly fine basis for a solid marriage.”

“Oh.”

“I want you to marry her.”

“Marry?”

“Yes. For a minimum of ten years. I think that’s long enough to produce heirs, and in exchange, I will invest in your company.”

“But...”

“Initial investment of three million dollars,” Arthur had cut in, shutting him up. “Marry my daughter, and the money is yours.”

It was a strange deal, but Sebastian was unlikely to get a better offer anywhere else. He was a kid from Idaho who had grown up surrounded by cornfields and this was not an opportunity he could easily pass up. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

“Yes. I will marry her,” he had answered.

“Perfect! You take good care of my Elizabeth and I will make sure PayVault never runs out of capital.” The old man had promised, and to his credit, he had held up his end of the bargain.

Would he despise the arrangement this much if Elizabeth were a stunner? Sebastian often wondered. Probably not. His wife was far from a looker, and he bitterly resented that she and her daddy had cooked up this cosy little plot to ensnare him.

Even then, the resentment he felt for the Murrays didn’t compare to the resentment he felt for himself. He’d essentially prostituted himself in order to get ahead in life.

Having grown up in abject poverty, three million dollars had seemed like a gift from heaven. It was such an unimaginable sum that he hadn’t thought twice before signing.

“It’s just a transaction.” That’s what Sebastian had told himself at the time then signed the marriage contract with the same cold professionalism he ran PayVault with.

Only when he’d been presented with the most unsightly woman did the regret start to creep in.

He couldn’t back out, despite desperately wanting to, as he would offend Arthur and kiss the three million dollars goodbye. On top of that, there was a four-hundred-thousand-dollar penalty should he attempt to back out of the marriage.

The cunning old fox had to be proud of himself, Sebastian often mused. Arthur had certainly landed his whale and future-proofed the deal. He must have known Sebastian would try to end the marriage the second his company made him rich, and he’d built the trap accordingly

Sure, Sebastian was moneyed now, but he still couldn’t afford to exit the marriage because his stake in the company would be threatened.

The marriage had a timeline, and all he had to do was last five more years before he’d be free. Free to see whoever he wanted, and have children with someone he could stand.

He knew Elizabeth wanted children badly and since he couldn’t break the contract without losing his company, Sebastian ensured she paid for her role in his entrapment the only way he had left, by secretly getting a vasectomy.

He planned to reverse it later, of course, but he’d also placed a backup supply in a fertility clinic’s vault. Sebastian didn’t leave anything to chance, least of all his lineage.

Over the years, Sebastian had done his best to polish Elizabeth, attempting to shape her into something presentable enough to stand beside him at events like this very gala.

Whether he’d actually succeeded remained up for debate.

Yet, however plain she was, sex with her wasn’t a problem. He managed to get it up for her each time, and much to his surprise, Elizabeth possessed an insatiable appetite behind closed doors.

While they kept separate bedrooms, he was obligated to drop by her room at least once a week.

Her father hadn’t forgotten a single thing.

Desperate for an heir, the old man had explicitly written conjugal rights into the contract, knowing full well that without a legal obligation, Sebastian wouldn’t have been inspired to touch her.

In bed, his wife was demanding, greedy, and insatiable. Even when he took his frustration out on her body, she met his anger with equal passion, giving back every bit as good as she took.

Their climaxes were explosive and despite fucking her out of obligation, Sebastian was left shattered by a toe-curling orgasm every single time.

Afterwards, he would retreat to his own room, even more resentful than before.

For five years, Sebastian had played his role. He was never cruel, but he didn’t really care for her. He brought her flowers on her birthday, remembered their anniversary and occasionally shared her bed.

But every touch was calculated and every warmth a performance.