Billionaire’s Pretend Wife To Be

My knees ached, and my smile felt like it was cracking the skin on my face.“Thanks for waiting, ma’am. That’s one medium decaf latte with three pumps of vanilla, right?” I slid the cardboard-sleeved cup across the counter of 'The Daily Grind,' a small, perpetually-damp coffee shop nestled in Seattle's Ballard neighborhood. It smelled permanently of stale grounds and desperation.The woman, draped in expensive knitwear and juggling an immaculate phone, barely glanced at me. “Took long enough, honey.”I bit back the sharp retort that bubbled up, honey, I'm literally the only person working bar and register right now, and if I’m late getting home, my brother might actually panic, and instead pasted the cracked smile back on. “Have a great evening.”The bell above the door chimed her exit, and I leaned heavily against the stainless steel counter, letting out a silent, ragged breath. It was 8:00 PM, an hour before closing, and my feet felt like they were filled with concrete.It wasn't ju

I skidded the sedan into the hospital parking lot. I didn't bother to park correctly. I didn't bother to lock the doors.The nurse was waiting for me at the desk, her face etched with exhaustion. She didn’t need to say a word. I knew.I didn't run down the hallway. I flew.When I reached Leo's room, the door was ajar, and the steady, ominous beep-beep of the monitoring equipment assaulted my ears. I paused at the threshold, one hand pressed against the cold metal of the doorframe, trying to brace myself for the sight. I had seen Leo sick a thousand times, but never like this. He was dwarfed by the machinery now. Thin, clear tubing snaked everywhere, down his nose, into the delicate veins of his arms. A clear plastic mask covered his small face, fogging slightly with each shallow, assisted breath. His skin, already pale, was faintly tinged with a grayish blue.My chest constricted, and a raw sob escaped me, swallowed instantly by the relentless beeping. This is what pride costs. Thi

The knock on my door at exactly nine o’clock felt less like a greeting and more like a police raid. I stood in the middle of the threadbare living room, clutching a chipped ceramic mug, watching the thin morning sunlight stripe the worn carpet. I was still in the same jeans and sweater I wore when I stood up to Alessandro, a desperate attempt to cling to the woman I was before the contract.I opened the door.The man standing there was not Alessandro, but a wall of polished black wool and severe professionalism. He was the driver from last night, though he introduced himself formally.“Mrs. Conti,” he stated, the title falling from his lips with terrifying ease. His gaze, however, didn’t register me. It registered the state of my home. “I am Marcus. I’ve brought the team and the necessary items, as requested by Mr. Conti.”Before I could process the words, a sleek black van materialized behind the Mercedes, and two women emerged, carrying garment bags and makeup cases that looked more

The heavy oak door of the West Solarium shut behind us, silencing the faint ambient sounds of the Manor. It wasn't just a door; it was a physical barrier snapping into place, sealing us into a temporary, high-stakes negotiation room.Alessandro released my arm the instant the door clicked. He walked to a desk made entirely of clear glass and stood, placing the structure like a moat between us. The tension that had been necessary for the walk across the foyer evaporated, leaving behind a cold vacuum.“Arthur is delayed by a financial call, which gives us perhaps twenty minutes to review the necessary parameters,” he stated, adjusting the cuff of his impeccable suit. “Sit, Elara.”I remained standing, moving toward the vast wall of glass where the city stretched out, shimmering beneath the late-day sun. “I prefer to stand, Alessandro. It’s easier to remember I’m not subordinate to you, merely contracted.”His lips twitched, a fleeting, almost invisible sign of annoyance. “Noted. For Art

The heavy doors of the East Wing apartment closed, sealing me into luxury and solitude. It was only ten o’clock, but the exhaustion from the day’s emotional warfare was crushing. The scent of expensive silk and diamonds seemed to cling to the air, an invisible weight. I ripped off the sapphire dress, letting it fall in a shimmer of blue to the marble floor, a discarded costume. The heavy wedding band followed, landing with a muted clink on the polished granite of the bedside table.I couldn’t sleep. I paced the enormous, silent space, feeling less like an occupant and more like a carefully maintained exhibit.He kept the sea glass. A small, dull, grey rock that we found twenty years ago, swearing it represented our unbreakable loyalty. I remembered seeing it in his study, held in his hand like a burning coal, the night Arthur told me the truth. The coldness in Alessandro’s eyes after Arthur spoke, that immediate, violent snap back to the monster, was the proof. The boy was in there,