Se connecterLisa is a poor, struggling and desperate woman who would do anything to save her sick and dying mother. Adrian is a billionaire CEO who needs a wife to secure his inheritance and silence his enemies. A contract marriage brings two opposite strangers together, but love was never part of the deal.
Voir plusThe nausea had been subtle at first. Easy to ignore. I blamed the stress. The long days. The emotional whiplash of watching a life unravel and rebuild itself in public. But when the dizziness came again; sharp and insistent, I knew it wasn’t something rest would fix. The doctor didn’t take long. She smiled before she spoke. And just like that, the world shifted. I waited until evening. Not because I was afraid, but because some truths deserved stillness. Adrian came home earlier than usual, jacket slung over his arm, expression lighter than it had been in weeks. He stopped short when he saw me sitting at the dining table, hands folded, a single envelope between us. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. “Nothing,” I said. That made him more suspicious. I slid the envelope toward him. “What’s this?” “Open it.” He hesitated, then did. His eyes moved over the paper once. Then again. Then he looked up slowly. “You’re…?” His voice faltered. “Is this…” “Yes,” I said softl
The call came just after midnight. Adrian answered it without looking at the screen. “I know,” he said calmly. I sat up in bed. “Know what?” He listened for a moment longer, then ended the call. “She’s done hiding,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, she releases everything.” My chest tightened. “Everything?” “Yes,” he replied. “A controlled leak. Enough truth to look honest. Enough omission to still wound.” “And you?” “And me,” he said quietly, “she expects to fold.” I reached for his hand. “Will you?” He looked at me then—no armor, no calculation. “No,” he said. “I’m done letting other people tell my story.” The press conference was set for ten a.m. Mrs. Westwood’s statement came first, just as predicted. I have always acted in Adrian’s best interest. Decisions were made to ensure his future. I regret that private matters have become public, but transparency is now necessary. Necessary. That word again. By the time Adrian stepped onto the stage, the narrative was already
The morning felt different. Not lighter; nothing was light anymore, but steadier, like the ground had finally decided not to shift beneath our feet. I woke before Adrian did, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the rare softness in his expression when he wasn’t guarding himself. In sleep, he looked younger. Unburdened. Like a man who didn’t need to anticipate betrayal before breakfast. I traced a fingertip along his arm. He stirred. “You’re staring,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “I’m observing,” I corrected. “That sounds dangerous.” “Only if you wake up,” I said. His eyes opened then, dark and alert despite the hour. He pulled me closer without hesitation, forehead resting against mine. “Still here?” he asked quietly. “Yes.” The word mattered. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all night. The appearance wasn’t planned. That was what made it powerful. Adrian had a luncheon scheduled; philanthropic, carefully neutral, a room full of people trained
The city slept beneath us. Not the restless kind of sleep filled with sirens and screens, but the quiet, suspended kind, where even power paused to breathe. Adrian stood on the balcony, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, the night air brushing against skin that had carried too much tension for too long. I watched him from the doorway, struck by how alone he looked even now; victorious, contained, and still bracing for impact. “You’re allowed to come inside,” I said softly. He turned, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. “I was wondering how long you’d let me pretend I needed distance.” “I wasn’t pretending,” I replied. “I was waiting.” “For?” “For you to stop thinking.” That earned a quiet laugh. He stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him. The city disappeared, leaving just us and the hush of something unspoken finally demanding attention. “You were fearless today,” he said. “You didn’t hesitate.” “I did,” I corrected. “I just didn’t let anyone see it.” He m
The name appeared in a place it didn’t belong. That was how I knew it mattered. Adrian had spent the morning combing through secondary archives; old trust documents, philanthropic donations, sealed transfers routed through foundations that no longer existed. It was meticulous work, the kind he di
The house had a way of falling silent whenever Adrian’s mother arrived. Not abruptly. Not noticeably. Just… gradually. Conversations softened. Footsteps slowed. Even the air seemed to pause, as though waiting to be instructed on how to behave. I noticed it the evening she came unannounced. Adr
Adrian didn’t speak during the drive home.Not because he was angry. Not because anything had gone wrong.But because he was thinking.I’d learned to recognize the difference.His focus narrowed when something mattered to him, the world shrinking until only the problem remained. Tonight, his grip o
The first rule of the contract was silence.Not spoken, not written, but understood.We did not explain ourselves to outsiders. We did not correct assumptions. We let people believe whatever made them most comfortable.Adrian was very good at that.The charity dinner was his idea. A controlled envi






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