A Contractual Affair: Falling For The Billionaire's Step son

Juliet's Point of view"You are like a father to me; I can't marry you. Please just help us, sir," I said and pleaded with my boss, who sat comfortably on his black leather chair, with the expectation that I would jump on his lap like his bitch does every time he needs them."Oh! Really, if you can't sign the contract marriage, then I guess you prefer to be an orphan if your mother dies." He said with his voice laced with seriousness.I know he meant everything he said, as he stood up and slowly approached me; he began to speak in a low and odd tone, and I quickly remembered how he used to calm his prey before he would start the main task."You see, Juliet, you and your mother need my help, and I'll gladly do anything to help you, but what will I gain in return if you don't sign the marriage contract?" He asked me in a low and deceptive tone.I gently removed his hand from my shoulder, like I always do, but I noticed he was becoming too intimate, so I hurriedly stormed out of his offic

JULIET'S POINT OF VIEW I stood by the roadside like a mad lady trying to avoid the psychiatric hospital. I am not bothered about my scattered hair; even as I gaze at STAMP BEE saloon, I can see the magic they are performing on different ladies through the transparent glass at the entrance.But I'm at the end of the wall, and I don't care whether I look good or not; today isn't my wedding day. I just don't know where to turn to."You have only 12 hours, Juliet." I still reminisced on Doctor Frank's warning, If I don't get the money to the hospital before the due time, I don't want to think about what will happen to my mother.I'm left with only one way in and one way out, "Mr. George." I know he's always ready to have me do his biddings: "Once I sign the marriage contract, I'll remain his slave forever, but life is giving no choices here." My mind reeled in this for almost an hour, and my eyes began to get blurry.My stomach began to hurt frequently; I could hear the grumbling sound

Juliet's POV"How I wish you were still alive, Mom; at least I wouldn't be going through this humiliation in vain." I whispered to myself as I remained calm on the soft sofa, fully designed with lots of multicolored ribbons and balloons for the marriage contract ceremony of me and this so-called George Watson, a man I looked up to like a father, who in turn saw me as his wife."I felt like slicing his throat with a knife right now." I said, gritting my teeth, and clenched my fist in anger.As he sat comfortably at my right-hand side, he dressed in a black blazer suit, with a gold wristwatch attached to his wrist; his trousers were straightened downward to match with the black Seward shoes; he was all set up for this charade."It's crazy." I thought. Meanwhile, I wore my mother's old white wedding gown, hoping it would be my leverage to stop the marriage ceremony from happening today.I stood upright in my small room, gazing directly at my reflection in the tiny, shaped mirror attached

MARK'S POVI ignored the beautiful morning light streaming in through the half-open wooden window at exactly 7:00 AM. The light shone brightly, like a diamond. My ears picked up every melody of the birds singing on top of the palm tree adjacent to the window. The crickets added their 'chirp-chirp" to the chorus, blending with the bird song to create a soothing melody. Normally, the sounds would be disturbing, but I hadn't slept all night, so they didn't bother me."Hmm...hmm!" I muttered to myself in a low tone. Lying flat on the giant bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling like a dead man awaiting judgment. My mind was a jumble of emotional thoughts, but most of them centered around Juliet, replaying what she'd said during the wedding party."That's a murder case," I whispered to myself, yawning every second and rubbing my exhausted eyes; sleep had been elusive in this room. Although the dimly lit space was rustic, it was well-appointed with beautiful flowers—vases filled with

MARK'S POV"I've been keeping the truth from you, Mom," I said, my voice tinged with uncertainty, as I sat down beside her on the plush bed. We faced the massive 95-inch TV; its sleek screen was perched atop a glass table that reflected the dim light of the room.I couldn't ignore the CNN morning breaking news flashing on the screen: "Two girls kidnapped from separate locations in California." As I read the scrolling ticker below, it sent a chill down my spine—the words seemed to mirror my own desperate situation.I knew Mom had been closely observing my behavior lately, but she seemed to be deliberately overlooking the changes in me, perhaps to avoid jumping to conclusions or maybe she just didn't want to confront the reality."What's wrong, son? Something is bothering you, isn't it?" She asked softly, her voice laced with concern. I hesitated, taking a few moments to muster my courage. I locked eyes with her, my gaze searching and intense, as I struggled to articulate the thoughts s