Chapter 6 –“The Devil’s Email”

Val’s POV

Elite Veil Matrimony – Urgent Match Notification

Dear Ms. Valeria Riveria

Your application has been fast-tracked due to the urgency indicated in your submission. We have identified a high-compatibility match who requires an immediate contract marriage arrangement (wedding ceremony to be completed within 7–10 days).

Match Profile: Ivan West

Age: 34

Industry: Technology & Global Investments

Key Requirements: Discreet, intelligent, and presentable partner capable of maintaining a convincing public image as a devoted wife. Full NDA and media training mandatory. Must be comfortable with immediate pregnancy disclosure and full inclusion of the child in the contract.

Contract Term: 18–24 months (with possible extension)

Compensation Package: $2.8 million USD (structured in staged payments) + comprehensive premium medical coverage including full prenatal care and delivery, luxury penthouse accommodation, $25,000 monthly allowance, and complete financial and legal provisions for the child.

A virtual meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow at 10:00 AM sharp.

Please review and digitally sign the attached NDA and preliminary contract terms immediately. Failure to do so will result in removal from consideration.

This is a high-priority, time-sensitive arrangement.

Elite Veil Matrimony

I read the whole thing slowly, then read it again. Two point eight million dollars. Prenatal care. A penthouse. Monthly money that could actually cover rent, food, and still leave enough to send something home to Mama. It sounded like a dream. But I knew better. Dreams like this always came with devils attached.

My stomach twisted, not just from the morning sickness that was starting to hit at night too. This was real. I was actually considering selling myself to the same type of man I had spent years hating. The arrogant, entitled, rich ones who thought money could buy anything, including people like me.

I thought about Richard Holloway  again. The way he smiled at me during that meeting right before he stole my entire concept and presentation. The way he made sure I’d never work in this city again. Sixty million dollars in his pocket and he still took time out of his day to destroy a twenty-three-year-old girl who dared to speak up. That was the world I was about to willingly walk back into.

Mama’s call came through again. The third time tonight. I stared at her photo on the screen,  her tired but beautiful face, the one that had worked double shifts cleaning offices and selling food by the roadside just so I could finish school. I couldn’t answer. Not while I was like this.

Instead I recorded a quick voice note, forcing my voice to sound lighter than I felt. “Hey Mama, sorry I missed your calls. I’m okay, just really busy with some applications and opportunities. Something big might come through soon. I’ll call you properly tomorrow, okay? Eat something good and rest. Love you so much.”

Sending it felt like another lie on top of all the others I’d been telling lately. She sacrificed everything for me. She got pregnant young, raised me alone, and made me promise I would never repeat her story. No baby without marriage. No struggling. No shame. And here I was, jobless, pregnant by a stranger whose face I never even saw clearly, about to enter a fake marriage with a billionaire I already knew I would despise.

I opened the attached NDA. Twenty-something pages of dense legal language that made my head hurt. Non-disclosure. No romantic or sexual relationships outside the contract. Mandatory public appearances. Media training. Penalties that could wipe out the entire compensation and more if I breathed a word to anyone. It was cold. Clinical. Terrifying.

But what choice did I have?

I signed it. Then I signed the preliminary contract summary too. The moment I hit send, another wave of nausea slammed into me. I barely made it to the toilet in time, throwing up what little was left in my stomach until my throat burned.

When I finally stood up and splashed water on my face, the girl in the mirror looked like a stranger. Eyes swollen. Skin dull. Hair messy. I looked exactly like what I was.  A desperate, scared, twenty-three-year-old who had no idea how she was going to survive the next nine months, let alone the next ten years.

“You swore you would never do this, Val,” I whispered to my reflection, voice cracking. “You said you’d never let rich men make you feel small. Never let them control your life. And now… now you’re handing yourself over on a silver platter.”

I dragged my tired body to the bed and crawled under the covers, fully dressed. One hand rested on my stomach even though it was still flat. There was nothing to feel yet, but I still whispered to the tiny life inside me.

“I’m so sorry this is how you’re starting. With a mother who doesn’t even know your father’s name. With a fake marriage and a man who probably sees me as just another transaction. But I promise I’m going to do better for you. I’m going to make sure you never feel like a mistake the way I sometimes did. Even if it means swallowing my pride and marrying someone I already resent.”

Sleep didn’t come easy. When it finally did, it was filled with broken fragments of that night. The heat of strong hands gripping my thighs. The low, rough voice groaning against my ear. The way my body had responded so shamelessly, chasing pleasure like nothing else mattered. I woke up multiple times flushed, thighs pressed together, angry at myself for still feeling any kind of way about a man who left cash on the nightstand like payment for services.

By morning I felt worse. I forced down some ginger tea and dry toast, then spent nearly an hour trying to look presentable. I picked my least wrinkled blouse, pulled my hair into a neat bun, and sat in front of my old laptop with my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my ears.

At exactly 9:58 a.m., the Zoom link appeared.

I joined the meeting. Camera off at first. I took one deep breath, then another, before finally turning it on.

The man on the other side of the screen was already waiting.

Sharp jaw. Piercing dark eyes. Broad shoulders filling out an expensive tailored shirt. The exact same build I had clung to desperately in that dark hotel room.

My entire body went ice cold.

It was him.

The stranger. The one-night mistake. The man who left five thousand dollars on the nightstand like I was nothing more than a transaction.

His eyes locked onto mine through the screen. They widened slightly. Recognition hit him just as hard as it hit me. For several long, suffocating seconds, neither of us spoke. We just stared at each other in complete shock.

Then his deep, gravelly voice came through the speakers, the same voice that had whispered filthy things against my skin that night.

“…It’s you.”