A Lady's Guide to Marrying Rich ✔

5

I yawn, feeling the sunlight hit me across the face. I don't want to get up. My eyes are closed, and I'm sinking into what feels like a pile of marshmallow clouds. This is so comfortable. The sheets rustle, a little louder than what I'm used to hearing. I frown. I'm quite sure I told the maids I wanted only silk sheets for my bed –

My eyes fly open. They land on an unfamiliar white ceiling.

I'm not in my house. This is the Satohs'. They're a Japanese couple who offered me a night in their place, because ... because what? I squeeze my eyes hard. Oh god, this headache is not helping. How much did I drink last night? I have a vague memory of holding a bottle of whisky. Which I finished in a train station. Where I met a nice janitor. Who helped me buy a ticket for –

"Ryefair!" I exclaim out loud, sitting up and punching the air. The next second I'm doubled over again, burying my pounding head into the cool pillows and muttering to myself, "Ssshhhhh, not too loud ..."

There's a smart rap on the door and a woman in a blue uniform enters. I blink, trying to place her face. Ah yes. This is Anita. The very efficient housekeeper who took one look at me last night and immediately decided to give me a hot soak in a full bathtub as well as a mug of warm milk.

"Breakfast is served downstairs," she informs. "Also, I heard you wanted a mobile charger? You can buy that from the shops in the village square."

"Thank you," I say. Anita nods and leaves. I lie there for a minute, before forcing myself to get up. As enticing as the bed is, I can't keep staying in like this. There's a bunch of things for me to do – buy a charger, call my sister, get the right address, and leave by train.

Besides, I frown, there's something else too. Something nagging at the back of my mind. It's not really something I need to do, it's more like something I've done. I can't quite remember what it is, but I'm sure it'll come to mind in a minute.

I yawn, stretching out lazily in the big bed. This is better than some dusty old inn, for sure. That was some luck, meeting the Satohs last night. Things could have been worse ... but then things could also have been better if I had just gotten the address right. My own sister's place, and I don't even know it. Sigh.

And that janitor. No wonder he asked me if I was sure about Ryefair! He must have known it was a dingy little village miles away from anywhere. Ha, and that face! That face he pulled when I shoved him all my credit cards –

My train of thought screeches to a halt and nearly jumps off the tracks.

Not my credit cards. Jared's credit cards.

Oh my God. Oh Jesus. It's coming back to me now. What I've done.

I divorced Jared. I divorced one of the richest men in London. I cut off my only source of financial income and told him the chances of me coming back were as slim as the chances of him keeping his dick in his pants.