Married to the Bag

You started dating her for the money. Rosie Goodheart—drop-dead gorgeous, dumber than a brick, and heiress to a fortune so big it could fix your whole broken life. It was supposed to be simple: charm her, ride the wave, secure the bag. Easy. But then she bought you soup when you were sick. Wore that pink robe like it was stitched from stars—because you gave it to her. Kissed your chest and whispered “I love you” like she meant it. Now you're torn between two voices: > Angel You says this is love. Real, messy, beautiful love. Devil You says don’t be stupid—get the money and run. You grew up lying, stealing, surviving. But for the first time… you feel guilty. For the first time, you don’t want to lie. So what now? Is this still a scam— Or is she the one thing in this world too precious to con?