The Contract Bride

Amara Cole’s hands trembled as she clutched the pen. The black ink blurred on the paper in front of her, the words twisting together until she could barely read them. She had already read this contract a hundred times. It didn’t change the truth.

One year. Pretend to be his wife. Obey the rules. No love. No expectations.

Her throat tightened, and she lowered her eyes, afraid of the man sitting across the polished table.

Lucian Hale.

Even his name made her heart pound with dread.

The thirty-two-year-old billionaire leaned back in his chair like a king on a throne, his custom-made suit hugging his tall frame, his eyes sharp and unreadable. The man who had ruined rivals and bought companies with a flick of his hand was staring at her as though she were a piece of property up for auction.

Amara wanted to run. Every part of her screamed to get up and leave.

But she couldn’t.

Her mother was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines they couldn’t afford. The bills piled higher every day, the weight of them crushing Amara’s chest with every breath. And her father’s debts… they were a noose tightening around her family’s neck.

This marriage wasn’t a choice. It was a sentence.

“Sign it.”

Lucian’s voice was deep, cold, final. His command sliced through the heavy silence, making her flinch.

Amara lifted her head slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time. His eyes were dark and piercing, like blades cutting into her soul. There was no warmth there. No kindness. Just control.

“Why me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You could have any woman you want. Women who would… love you.”

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was a mockery. “Love?” He almost laughed, but the sound was humorless. “I don’t need love. I need a wife who won’t ask questions, who won’t get in my way. Someone plain. Forgettable. You fit perfectly.”

Her chest ached at his cruel words. Still, she clenched the pen tighter. This wasn’t about her pride. This was about survival.

“For one year,” he said lazily, as if this marriage was just another deal. “You play your role in public. You smile when I say smile, stand when I say stand. In return, your family gets their money, and when the year ends, you disappear. We both get what we want.”

His gaze sharpened. “But make no mistake, Amara. You will never touch my heart. Understand?”

The sting of his words was worse than a slap.

She lowered her eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. If she broke now, she would lose everything. She forced her hand to move, pressed the pen to the paper, and signed her name.

The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was louder than thunder in her ears.

It was done.

She wasn’t Amara Cole anymore. She was Mrs. Hale.

Lucian leaned forward, his eyes glinting with cold satisfaction. “Good girl.”

He stood, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. Every movement he made radiated power, as though he ruled not just the room but the world. He leaned down, close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear.

“Remember this, Amara,” he whispered, his tone dark and dangerous. “You belong to me now. But only on paper. Don’t mistake this for anything more.”

Her stomach twisted, and her fingers dug into the edge of the chair. She wanted to scream, to fight, to run. But her body wouldn’t move.

Suddenly, the heavy doors to the hall burst open. The sharp sound of heels clicked against the marble floor.

Amara turned, her breath catching.

A tall woman strode inside, her crimson lips curved in a poisonous smile. Her long black dress clung to her perfect figure, diamonds glittering at her throat. Her eyes—icy and full of disdain—swept over Amara like she was filth on the floor.

She stopped in front of Lucian, her hand brushing against his arm as if she owned him. Her gaze dropped to the contract on the table, then back to Amara.

“So…” the woman said softly, her voice dripping with venom, “this is the girl you chose?”

Amara froze.

Her heart pounded painfully as the woman’s cruel smile widened.