Contract Marriage with the Disabled Billionaire

Darren's Pov

The smell of expensive whiskey, burning wood, and desperation filled the suite air. Isadora's middle-aged father sat across from me, his hand trembling as he reached for his glass. The man was everything I hated in a person — weak, pathetic, and the kind of man who would sell his own soul for big bucks. But tonight, the commodity wouldn't be his soul. It happened to be his one and only daughter. 

I drummed my fingers against the polished desk, the sound echoing in the vast suite. The room was dimly lit but that didn't stop the faint golden light from casting long shadows across my scarred face. My reflection was something I didn't like looking at — half man, half beast in expensive clothing. At least that's what the entire New York thinks. Well, their whispered rumours weren't far from the truth.

Ugly.

Hideous.

A monster.

And so much worse.

But I didn't give a fuck.

I had everything I needed. I had everything money could buy — A private island to escape the world, a custom-made yacht to sail the seas, a penthouse apartment with the view of the city skyline, everything I could get my hands on from rare art pieces to luxury cars to jets but my money couldn't buy me the one thing I've always longed for — someone who would stay. Someone who wouldn't scream when they looked at me or flinch at my touch. 

I told myself someone like that didn't exist. 

Couldn't. 

At least that's what I thought until I saw her.

She was 16, untouched by the cruelty. The greenest eyes I'd ever seen and a smile so bright it outshone the sun in the very sky. And she smiled at me. Not the fake smiles I got from investors but a real, genuine smile so warm that it could thaw even the coldest winter.

I wanted that all for myself.

I wanted her.

“I'll clear all your debts.” I told Mr. Giordano in a sotto , a voice both my enemies and so-called friends said was devoid of emotion. 

“What?” Giordano’s eyes went wild in shock but I didn't have time to indulge the greedy little shit. 

I kept drumming my fingers on the desk, this time keeping a slow even pace. “I'll pay off every penny you owe and give you enough for a fresh start.”

“Jesus,” Giordano smiled, greed flaring to life in his eyes. “Thank you so much.” Suddenly, his eyes darkened. “A man of your calibre wouldn't lend a helping hand if it won't benefit him.”

Bingo.

I smiled. He wasn't dumb after all. “In return, you'll give me your daughter.”

Giordano choked on his drink. “M - My daughter?”

“Yes. Isadora,” I smiled. “The day she turns 18, she will become my wife.” 

Silence followed, stretching between us. I leaned back in my chair, watching all gamut of emotion flash across Giordano's face — shame, hesitation, undeniable hunger. Hunger for wealth. He was thinking about the kind of life I could give her. No. He was thinking about what kind of man I was. 

I already knew what people whispered behind closed doors about me.

To them, I was a man with a ruined face and a missing hand. A demon hiding behind abundant riches. A man whose wealth couldn't buy him everything except a wife.

Well, they were harsh with their words but they weren't wrong and they weren't right either.

“You're asking for too much,” Giordano said finally, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

I had to smirk. “Am I?”

He licked his lips, hesitating. I could see the calculating look in his eyes. He wasn't worried about Isadora. He was worried about what he'd lose if he didn't accept this deal. 

“I…” He looked away. “She… Isadora's still a kid.” 

I kept my lips in a thin line, watching the idiot fumble in his seat.

He was grasping at straws here, trying to convince both me and himself that selling his daughter was a wrong thing to do. But we both knew that deep down, he knew he had already lost the battle of desperation. 

His eyes darted back to me. “H — How am I sure you won't leave me out to dry?” 

I exhaled softly and leaned forward. “I am a businessman, Giordano, not a liar.”

I slid a document towards him — the cold, calculated words written in black ink. 

He stared at the contract for a long time, his mouth hanging low, his breath uneven.

“Take your time,” I said. “But remember this — if you refuse me today, your debts will remain. The collectors will come from you and when they do, they won't be as generous as I am.” 

He flinched.

That was the final push he needed and he fell for it.

Slowly, Giordano picked up the fountain pen and pressed the nib on the paper. His hands trembled as he scribbled — one stroke, two strokes and then it was done.

Not just as a signature. 

Nor a seal.

But a future promised to me, one that now belonged to me.

I rose to my feet. “Pleasure doing business with you, Giordano.”

The man nodded stiffly, avoiding my gaze. A man with shame in his heart couldn't look a devil in the eyes.

As he stumbled out of my suite, I let my fingers trail over the signed contract. 

Isadora Giordano.

That name would be mine one day. 

Soon enough.

I was content. I had finally gotten what I wanted but as I sat there, alone in the dark, it felt like I had lost something I didn't even have yet.

2 YEARS LATER 

The D-day had come faster than I anticipated.

She is 18 years old now. A woman. My woman.

The moment she came of age had reached me long before she even knew. New York city buzzed with news : 

“The monster of Canterbury finally claims his bride after years of fruitless searching.” 

They were right. I was about to claim my bride but —

Isadora didn't want this.

I knew that much.

I had known from the very start.

When I arrived at the Giordano mansion, she was standing by the balcony, a light breeze spilling through her ginger hair, making her green eyes glow. Everything about her was perfect. Everything except the scowl she kept on her face. I had expected her to smile but she didn't. Instead, she stared at me like I was the executioner coming for her head. The warmth from her that had captivated me 2 years had vanished without a trace.

I exhaled, adjusting the glove on my prosthetic hand when we finally met face to face. “Isadora?”

She didn't answer. 

Her father cleared his throat. “Don't just stand there, girl. Go and greet your fiancé.”

Isadora lifted her chin, her green eyes burning mine with defiance. “You tricked me.”

I tilted my head. “No, I didn't, Isadora. I made a deal.”

“Deal?” She scoffed. “You bought me!” 

I didn't deny that. She didn't lie.

Silence stretched between us and I could see the hatred simmering beneath her expression. She barely concealed the resentment she had for me. This isn't the love I wanted. 

I turned to Mr. Giordano. “She's coming with me.”

The man nodded after a brief moment of hesitation while Isadora flinched. I didn't even touch her and she was already flinching. 

I hid my hands in my pocket and said to her softly. “Let's go.” 

When she didn't say anything, I gestured to the Rolls Royce Phantom VIII. “You can walk on your own or I can carry you. Your choice.”

Her lips parted slightly but she didn't say anything.

“Either way,” I added, stepping forward, “You're coming with me, wife.”

“Fine!” Isadora scoffed again and walked past me.

And just like that, the deal was sealed.