Chapter Three: The Billionaire’s Wife

By the time the stylist zipped up my gown, my hands were trembling.

“Mrs. Blackwood, you look stunning,” she said, stepping back to admire her work.

I barely heard her.

The dress clung to my body like it had been designed with intention—to announce, to display, to claim. Gold fabric shimmered against my skin, elegant yet bold. I looked like I belonged in Lucas Blackwood’s world.

And that terrified me.

The door opened, and Lucas walked in.

For a brief second, the room fell silent.

He wore a black tuxedo, sharp and immaculate, his presence filling the space without effort. His dark eyes swept over me slowly, lingering longer than necessary. Something unreadable flickered across his face.

“You’ll do,” he said finally.

I scoffed. “High praise.”

“This event is important,” he continued, ignoring my comment. “The press will be there. Investors too. Stay close to me. Smile when they smile. Speak only when spoken to.”

I lifted my chin. “You don’t have to worry. I know how to pretend.”

His gaze hardened. “Good.”

The drive to the venue was tense and silent. Cameras flashed the moment we stepped out of the car, blinding and relentless.

“Lucas Blackwood!”

“Is this your new wife?”

“How long have you been married?”

Lucas’s arm slid around my waist possessively, his grip firm and unyielding.

“This is my wife, Amara Blackwood,” he said calmly.

Hearing my new name spoken aloud sent a strange shiver through me.

We walked into the ballroom together, surrounded by luxury and power. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the room buzzed with whispered conversations.

Eyes followed us everywhere.

“This is insane,” I muttered under my breath.

Lucas leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “Get used to it.”

A woman approached us almost immediately, her smile sharp and knowing.

“Lucas,” she said warmly. “It’s been a while.”

My stomach dropped.

She was tall, stunning, and perfectly poised in a crimson gown. Her gaze flicked to me briefly before returning to him.

“Vanessa,” Lucas replied coolly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Vanessa laughed softly. “Of course you didn’t. You always hated surprises.”

She turned to me, extending her hand. “And you must be the wife.”

Amusement danced in her eyes.

“I am,” I said evenly, shaking her hand.

“How… unexpected,” she added, her smile tightening. “Lucas never mentioned you.”

Lucas’s jaw clenched. “That’s because my personal life is none of your concern.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Still cold, I see.”

She leaned closer to me, lowering her voice. “Be careful. He gets bored easily.”

Before I could respond, she walked away, her words echoing in my mind.

“Who was that?” I asked once she was gone.

“No one,” Lucas said too quickly.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of introductions and forced smiles. My cheeks hurt from pretending. Every time someone addressed me as Mrs. Blackwood, it felt surreal.

Then it happened.

A group of reporters cornered us near the stage.

“Mr. Blackwood,” one of them began, “rumors say this marriage was rushed. Is it true your wife comes from a modest background?”

The room seemed to still.

Lucas’s grip on my waist tightened.

“Is wealth a requirement for love now?” he asked coldly.

“But do you deny—”

“My wife’s background is irrelevant,” Lucas interrupted. “She is my wife. That is all that matters.”

The reporter hesitated. “Then you deny the rumors of a contract marriage?”

My heart slammed against my chest.

Lucas turned to me slowly.

For one terrifying moment, I didn’t know what he would say.

Then he smiled.

And it was dangerous.

“I married Amara because I wanted to,” he said calmly. “Anyone who suggests otherwise can leave.”

The reporters backed off immediately.

I stared at him, stunned.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered once we were alone.

“Yes, I did,” he replied. “No one humiliates my wife.”

My wife.

The words lingered between us.

Later that evening, Vanessa returned.

“Congratulations,” she said lightly. “You play the role well.”

I stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She leaned closer. “Don’t fall for him. Lucas doesn’t protect people out of kindness.”

Lucas appeared at my side instantly.

“This conversation is over,” he said sharply.

Vanessa smirked. “Careful, Lucas. You might actually care.”

Her eyes met mine. “And when he breaks your heart, remember—I warned you.”

She walked away, leaving silence behind her.

On the drive home, neither of us spoke.

Once inside the mansion, Lucas stopped me at the foot of the stairs.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” he said quietly.

“I learned from the best,” I replied.

His gaze softened—just for a moment.

“This marriage is still a contract,” he said. “Don’t misunderstand that.”

I met his eyes. “Then why did you defend me?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he turned and walked away.

As I watched him disappear down the hallway, my heart pounded with a realization I wasn’t ready to face.

The man I married to survive was becoming the man I might fall for.

And that terrified me more than anything else.