Accidentally Contracted To The Billionaire CEO

Brielle

“You’re my wife,” he insisted, his words tinged with a sense of ownership that made me shudder. “You signed the contract, remember? It’s binding.”

I tried to protest, but every denial was met with the same adamant response: “You’re my wife now.”

***

Three Months Earlier…

I groaned, struggling to wake up as my mom called my name for the tenth time, shouting it like there was no end to her chorus of “Brielle! Brielle!”

Christ, Mom. Gimme a break.

And before I could even open my eyes, she'd already yanked the covers off my bed, leaving me shivering and cursing in the chilly air.

I groaned again, rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep away. “Seriously, Mom? Can’t a girl get some rest on a Saturday morning?”

With a resigned sigh, I forced myself out of bed, brushed my teeth, and took a shower. After that, I joined Mom and Dad downstairs for breakfast.

As Mom slid a plate of fluffy omelette in front of me, and she pinned me with a maternal gaze. “Hunny, did you write down that list I told you to make?”

I sighed, picking up my fork. “I’ve got a lot on my plate, Mom. And not just this omelette.”

I hadn’t even started the list. I've been busy, I was at the library yesterday, working on a project. And I was just exhausted when I got home. “I… I didn’t have time to do it.”

“Brielle, you know how important this is to me. I want everything to be perfect for your graduation.”

“Martha, you’re doing too much,” Dad said, coming to my defense. “All this fussing isn’t necessary.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I was indeed grateful for the backup. “Why don’t we just order everything we need online and have it delivered right to our doorstep? Besides, We still have plenty of time before my graduation—three months, to be exact.”

Mom’s eyes flitted between me and Dad, She appeared momentarily flabbergasted by our combined effort against her. She let out a sigh and reluctantly took a seat at the table, folding her hands in her lap, with features that I had clearly inherited.

The same brunette hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same olive skin. But the height difference between us was hard to ignore. At 5’10, I had clearly taken after my dad, while my mom stood at a petite 5’4.

For all her quirks and sometimes overwhelming enthusiasm, I loved Mom deeply. And Dad, with his gentle, patient nature, had always been my rock.

Together, they were my entire world, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

“Brielle, hurry up and eat,” Mom said, digging into her own breakfast. “We need to leave soon.”

I huffed, slumping my head on the dinner table and nearly toppling my plate in the process.

Mom’s scowl deepened. “You want to break the plate? It might be more useful than whatever you’re doing with it now.”

I rolled my eyes, picking up my fork and taking a defiant bite of my omelette. “Relax, Mom. I’m eating, aren’t I? I just don’t want to go to the market. It feels like we’re living in the… dark ages. Can’t we just order everything online? This isn't medieval times.”

Dad couldn’t hold back his laughter, letting out a booming guffaw that filled the dining Area

Mom shot me a scowl, but I couldn’t help the grin that threatened to break across my face. I tried to bite my lip to suppress my smile, but it was no use.

Breakfast was over, the table was cleared, and I found myself in the passenger seat of Mom’s car, still feeling like I was sleepwalking through the morning.

“You’re never going to get anywhere in life if you keep sleeping like this,” Mom said, shooting me a disapproving look as she started the car.

After hitting up several shops for the necessary souvenir supplies—the hats, the t-shirts, the mugs, balloons, confetti, party supplies, you name it—we made our way to the grocery store to stock up on some essentials.

Mom took the lead, bustling through the aisles, determined to make my graduation the event of the century. I didn’t have the heart to argue anymore, so I just trailed along behind her, trying to be a good sport.

We stepped out of the supermarket, and suddenly, a deafening crash erupted behind us, the sound so piercing that it made my ears ring. I spun around, my eyes widening in horror as I took in the scene unfolding_

A car had flipped, hurtling towards the parking lot with dizzying speed. It caught fire immediately, sending smoke and flames billowing into the air.

Panic spread through the area like wildfire, people scrambling to get out of the way of the fiery wreckage. My eyes flitted to a red truck that was speeding off, the driver fleeing the scene of the accident without a care.

It was clear to me that this truck was responsible for the crash. And now the driver was trying to get away, speeding off into the distance as the chaos unfolded behind him.

Paramedics rushed to the scene, doing their best to assess the situation and provide aid to the victims. They quickly loaded two badly injured people on stretchers and rushed them to the ambulance.

One of the victims was a man, the other a woman. The woman seemed to be unconscious, a mask providing her with oxygen. The man, too, looked like she was fighting for his life.

The entire ordeal played over and over again in my mind as we drove back home, the image of the car flipping, catching fire, and the truck driver fleeing burned into my memory.

Sleep evaded me, Every time I closed my eyes, the accident seared its way into my subconscious. My mind fixated on the injustice of it all. The idea that the truck driver could get away with this haunted me.

The local news revealed that the man involved in the accident was none other than Andrei Carter, the wealthy and powerful CEO of Carter Industries. And the woman with him, the one who tragically lost her life, was his fiancée.

Three months later, the story resurfaced on the 9am news. The media had dredged up the horrific incident once again, sparking a renewed interest in the case.

After scouring the internet for any scrap of information about the case, I was deep in the throes of a research marathon when the doorbell chimed. I jolted from my spot in front of the computer, and made my way to the door.

As I opened the door, my best friend, Ivy, stood before me, an ear-splitting grin on her face. “Graduation partyyyyyyy!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on the doorstep.

I couldn’t help but grimace at the sound, “Good grief, Ivy. You could wake the dead with that voice!”

Ivy snickered, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Hey, that’s not my fault!”

“Can you please, for the love of all things quiet, calm down?” I pleaded, standing aside to let Ivy into the house. She stepped past me, still bubbling over with enthusiasm.

“Nope! This is our graduation party Brielle. So I’m gonna go all out! Graduation partyyyyyyy!” Ivy bellowed, again, as if the whole neighborhood needed to hear. I swore I could feel the windows rattling in their frames.

I put my hands over my ears. “Seriously, I don’t need you to wake the dead!”

Ivy laughed, unperturbed by my irritation. “You’ve got mail!” she tossed a brown envelope in my direction.

I plucked it out of the air, eyeing the package curiously. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know either,” Ivy said, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders as she headed towards the kitchen.

The air was permeated with the smell of freshly baked cookies, and Ivy beelined straight for the treat.

Mom and Ivy chatted away, seemingly oblivious to the world around them, while I curiously unfolded the papers from the mysterious package. As I scanned the documents, confusion began to wash over me.

These weren’t the types of papers I expected—no internship acceptance, no job offer. Instead, the documents were filled with legalese, the kind that made my head spin.

What in the world is this?