Stolen Nights With My Cold Husband

Stolen Nights With My Cold Husband

Author: Morgan Cooke

Chapter 3: The Outsider

Nathan and I lived in separate suites at opposite ends of the hallway—like strangers at a hotel. He was always gone, flying off to Tokyo or London or Dubai, anywhere but here. Maybe it was easier not to see the wife who’d crashed his perfect life.

A notification flashed on my phone, making my stomach drop. An anonymous message. The photo showed Nathan and Sophia shopping on Madison Avenue, his gaze locked on her—softer than I’d ever seen it. Nathan never came shopping with me; he left that to his assistant, just like the wedding ring I’d picked out alone at Tiffany’s, with the saleswoman giving me that pitying look.

I’d been the good girl all my life, never causing trouble, never asking for more. My dad struck it rich late, and everyone at the country club knew it. Every brunch, I felt like an imposter—like my pearls were plastic and everyone else could tell. I didn’t have the pedigree to fit in, and the old-money girls made sure I knew it.

At Dalton High, the gym reeked of sweat and cheap cologne, and I could feel every eye burning holes through my soaked shirt. Someone had "accidentally" dumped a water bottle over my white uniform, my pink bra showing through to a chorus of snickers and flashing phones. Then, a calm voice handed me a jacket and pointed out the locker room. By the time I looked up, he was gone—just broad shoulders disappearing around the corner. The name tag read: Nathan Blackwood.

After that, I watched him from a distance—the golden boy, untouchable, everyone’s secret crush. I never dreamed I’d wear his ring, carry his name. Part of me hoped he’d grow to love me, that time might soften him. But there was only one person in his heart, and it wasn’t me.

If Sophia’s family hadn’t gotten tangled up in an SEC scandal, forcing her overseas, Nathan never would’ve married me. I was just the backup bride.

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