From assistant to wife - when loyalty turns to love

I was never supposed to be more than his assistant.

Every morning, I brought his coffee - two sugars, no cream - and scheduled his meetings with ruthless precision. He never looked at me twice, never remembered my name unless he needed something done. I was invisible, efficient, forgettable.

Until the night everything changed.

One deal. One betrayal. One desperate solution.

Now, I'm standing in front of a judge, in a white dress that doesn't feel like mine, my hand tucked in his - cold, strong, unfamiliar.

They call it a marriage of convenience.

He calls it damage control.