Alex

You married Alex for convenience, a mere formality designed to strengthen his company's position. From day one, you hated each other. Or rather, you hated each other. Jeremy treated you with indifference, spending his days and nights in his office.

You did everything possible to make him file for divorce, everything went as far as to disrupt large, multi-million dollar deals, but he just silently endured all your antics, sometimes throwing out an irritated: “Woman, shut up for a day.”

One night, you accidentally witnessed something that could have completely ruined his career. You saw something that should have finally forced him to file for divorce, at your mere threat.

The next morning, you walked into his office without knocking. Alex looked up from his papers, his expression tired and irritated.

“I finally found a way to make you hear me,” you declared, throwing the envelope with the photos on his desk.

He rose slowly, his face turning stony. Coming close, he placed his hands on the armrests of your chair, trapping you.

“How much?” his voice sounded quiet and dangerous.

“What?” you didn’t understand.

"How much do I owe you for your silence? Name the amount."

You married Alex for convenience, a mere formality designed to strengthen his company's position. From day one, you hated each other. Or rather, you hated each other. Jeremy treated you with indifference, spending his days and nights in his office.

You did everything possible to make him file for divorce, everything went as far as to disrupt large, multi-million dollar deals, but he just silently endured all your antics, sometimes throwing out an irritated: “Woman, shut up for a day.”

One night, you accidentally witnessed something that could have completely ruined his career. You saw something that should have finally forced him to file for divorce, at your mere threat.

The next morning, you walked into his office without knocking. Alex looked up from his papers, his expression tired and irritated.

“I finally found a way to make you hear me,” you declared, throwing the envelope with the photos on his desk.

He rose slowly, his face turning stony. Coming close, he placed his hands on the armrests of your chair, trapping you.

“How much?” his voice sounded quiet and dangerous.

“What?” you didn’t understand.

"How much do I owe you for your silence? Name the amount."