LOGINShe married him to save her Family. He married her to fulfill a contract. When the billionaire broke her heart, she walked away with nothing— except the secret growing inside her. Years later, he is richer, colder, and filled with regret. She is stronger… and hiding the child he never knew existed. But when fate forces them together again, will love survive the damage he caused? He broke her once. This time, she may never forgive him.
View MoreChapter One: The Contract That Broke Me
The contract lay on the glass table between us, crisp and white, like it hadn’t just sentenced my life. “Sign it.” His voice was calm. Too calm. As if he wasn’t asking me to sell myself. I lifted my eyes slowly, forcing my trembling hands to stay still. The man sitting across from me was everything people whispered about in magazines and boardrooms—handsome, powerful, untouchable. Ethan Blackwood. Billionaire CEO. The man who had ruined my family without losing a second of sleep. “You want me to marry you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes flickered, sharp and cold, like he was already bored of this conversation. “For one year.” One year. I swallowed hard. “And after one year?” He leaned back in his chair, long fingers folding together with calculated ease. “After one year, the marriage ends. You get your freedom. I get what I want.” “What you want,” I repeated bitterly. “And what exactly is that?” A humorless smile curved his lips. “Control.” The word cut deeper than I expected. I looked down at the contract again. My name was already typed neatly at the bottom, waiting for my signature like a trap that had been prepared long before I walked into this office. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered—bright, alive, indifferent. Inside, my world was collapsing in silence. “Why me?” I asked. Ethan’s gaze darkened, something unreadable passing through his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “Because you’re convenient.” Convenient. That was all I was to him. Three days ago, I had been a normal woman with ordinary problems—rent overdue, hospital bills piling up, a father lying unconscious in a hospital bed because someone had deliberately destroyed his company. Today, I was sitting across from the very man responsible for it all. “You drove my father’s company into bankruptcy,” I said, my nails biting into my palms. “You took everything from us.” “I didn’t take anything,” Ethan replied coolly. “I acquired what was weak.” My chest burned. “You knew he’d have a heart attack.” “That was unfortunate,” he said without emotion. Unfortunate. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let them fall. Crying in front of Ethan Blackwood would only make this worse. “You’re heartless,” I said. “Honest,” he corrected. “And offering you a solution.” A solution. The hospital bills alone were more than I could ever afford. The creditors were already calling day and night. My mother had stopped eating. My younger brother had started pretending everything was fine. And Ethan knew all of it. That was why I was here. “If I refuse?” I asked quietly. His eyes hardened. “Then your father’s treatment ends tomorrow. The bank will seize what little you have left. And your family will learn very quickly what life is like without my mercy.” My breath hitched. This wasn’t a proposal. It was blackmail. “You promised you wouldn’t touch my family again,” I said, my voice shaking despite myself. “I promised nothing,” Ethan replied. “I said I’d consider alternatives.” I let out a broken laugh. “Marrying you is an alternative?” “Yes.” Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I picked up the pen. My hand shook as I flipped through the pages, though I already knew what I’d find—no love, no warmth, no protection. Just clauses about obedience, discretion, public appearances, and silence. So much silence. Clause 17 caught my eye. No emotional expectations shall be placed upon the husband. I clenched my jaw. “You don’t even want to pretend,” I said. “I don’t do pretense,” Ethan said. “You will live in my house. Attend events as my wife. Keep your head down. In return, your family survives.” Survives. I looked at him then—really looked. The sharp jaw, the tailored suit, the eyes that had never known fear or loss. Men like him didn’t break. They broke others. “Do you hate me that much?” I asked. His gaze faltered for half a second. Then it hardened again. “This has nothing to do with hate.” “Then what does it have to do with?” Something unreadable flashed across his face. “Sign the contract,” he said quietly. “Or walk away.” I knew he was lying. There was no walking away. Tears blurred my vision as I lowered the pen to the final page. My signature looked fragile, crooked—nothing like the confident woman I used to be. With one stroke, I erased her. I placed the pen down. “It’s done,” I said. Ethan stood, towering over me. “Good.” Good. He extended his hand, not in comfort, but finality. “Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Blackwood.” The name hit me like a slap. Mrs. Blackwood. I rose slowly, my legs weak. “One year,” I reminded him. “After one year, I’m free.” His lips curved into a cold, knowing smile. “If you survive it.” As I walked out of his office, the doors closing behind me with a soft, merciless click, I realized something terrifying. The contract hadn’t just sold my future. It had broken me. And I had a feeling… Ethan Blackwood intended to make sure I never healed. Chapter Thirty-Three: Isabella and Valeria Isabella did not tell Ethan where she was going. That was the first betrayal she allowed herself. She left before dawn, dressed simply, hair pulled back, heart pounding with the kind of fear that sharpened rather than weakened her. The guards noticed—of course they did—but she invoked Ethan’s authority with a steadiness that surprised even her. “I’m allowed to leave,” she said calmly. “Tell him I’ll be back.” They hesitated. She smiled, small and dangerous. “That wasn’t a request.” Valeria’s residence was quieter than Isabella expected. No press. No chaos. No armed spectacle. Just a sleek, immaculate house perched like a predator above the city, all glass and shadow and secrets. Valeria had always liked places that looked transparent while hiding everything. Isabella walked in unannounced. Valeria was waiting. “You shouldn’t be here,” Valeria said softly, seated on a white sofa, legs crossed, a glass of wine untouched
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Last Strike Valeria did not panic. That was the mistake people always made when they underestimated her—they assumed desperation would make her reckless. But Valeria had never survived Ethan Blackwood’s world by being reckless. She survived by being precise. When she realized Ethan had crossed an invisible line—when she understood that Isabella was no longer just a contract wife or a convenient shield but something protected—Valeria did not lash out emotionally. She calculated. She sat alone in her penthouse, city lights bleeding through floor-to-ceiling glass, a tablet glowing softly in her hands. On the screen were timelines, names, financial trails, sealed documents she had spent weeks quietly unearthing. Isabella Blackwood was not going to be destroyed by scandal again. This time, she would be erased. — Isabella sensed it before it happened. The air around Ethan changed—tightened, sharpened. He became quiet
Chapter Thirty-One: The Past That Refused to Stay Buried Valeria realized she had miscalculated the moment she saw Ethan hesitate. It was subtle—so subtle no one else noticed. A pause before he answered a question in a board meeting. A fraction of a second too long before he dismissed Isabella’s name when it surfaced in conversation. A sharp, restrained silence whenever someone referred to Isabella as expendable. Ethan Blackwood did not hesitate unless something mattered. And Isabella still did. That realization curdled inside Valeria like poison. She had not returned to orbit Ethan’s world. She had returned to own it. And Isabella—broken, disgraced, supposedly defeated—was still standing in the center of something Valeria could not reach. So Valeria struck again. This time, she did not aim for Isabella’s reputation. She aimed for her safety. The invitation arrived wrapped in elegance. Cream paper. Embossed let
Chapter Thirty: Truth, Arriving Too Late The silence after disgrace was louder than applause. Isabella learned that quickly. In the days that followed the council meeting, the world did not shout at her. It did not accuse her openly. It simply withdrew. Invitations vanished. Calls went unanswered. Faces that once warmed at her presence now turned politely blank. Worse than hatred was erasure. She still lived in the Blackwood penthouse, because the contract demanded appearances until its final day. Four months remained. Four months of being a ghost in a place that had once felt like a battlefield she was learning to survive. Ethan rarely spoke to her. When he did, his voice was cool, controlled, indifferent—like she was a problem already solved. That indifference hurt more than his cruelty ever had. She woke one morning to find her access completely restricted. Even her personal terminal—once linked to Blackwood systems for scheduling and c
Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.
reviews