Chapter Five The wife He Never Wanted

Charlotte’s POV

Bruce stared at the television like he had just discovered buried treasure.

The inauguration broadcast continued behind him while reporters crowded around Jace Norman and his father.

Power.

Money.

Control.

Everything Bruce worshipped.

“That’s the guy?” he asked slowly.

I nodded once.

His eyes moved back to me carefully.

“You actually slept with Jace Norman.”

The way he said Jace’s name made my skin crawl.

Like he already saw dollar signs attached to it.

“I didn’t know who he was,” I whispered.

Bruce laughed under his breath.

“That makes it even better.”

My stomach sank.

Better?

Nothing about this felt good.

Not the hotel.

Not the money.

Not the way Bruce suddenly looked at me like I had become useful overnight.

He walked toward me slowly.

“How much did he give you?”

“Nothing.”

“Charlotte.”

“We just talked.”

“Do rich men usually pay women to talk?”

I stayed quiet.

Bruce smirked immediately.

“There it is.”

He grabbed my handbag from the couch before I could stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax.”

“Bruce, give it back.”

He ignored me completely and searched through it.

Receipts.

Lip gloss.

My apartment keys.

Then his fingers stopped.

The bank deposit slip.

His eyes widened instantly.

“Oh... wow.”

I rushed toward him. “Give me that.”

Bruce held it above his head while reading the amount again.

“Ten thousand dollars?”

I snatched the paper back angrily.

“That money is for my mother.”

Bruce barely listened.

He looked excited now.

Dangerously excited.

“You slept with a billionaire heir for one night and he gave you ten grand like it was nothing.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, trust me,” he said. “It’s exactly what I think.”

I folded the receipt quickly and shoved it back into my bag.

“You’re not touching that money.”

Bruce laughed.

“You think small, Charlotte.”

“I think normally.”

“No. You think poor.”

I stared at him.

“There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“There’s something seriously lucky about you,” he corrected.

He walked toward the television again where Jace’s face filled the screen.

Perfect suit.

Perfect posture.

Perfect rich boy image.

Bruce shook his head slowly.

“That family would do anything to avoid scandal.”

I already hated where this conversation was going.

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“I don’t need to.”

Bruce turned toward me fully.

“You’re going back to him.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I said no.”

His expression hardened immediately.

“Listen carefully, Charlotte. Men like that don’t sleep with girls like you unless they think they can control them.”

The words stung more than I expected.

Girls like you.

Poor girls.

Disposable girls.

Girls who accepted hotel invitations because hospital bills existed.

Bruce stepped closer.

“You’re going to use this.”

“I’m not blackmailing anybody.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He smiled slowly.

“We make them scared first.”

My heartbeat slowed.

“What did you do?”

Bruce sat down calmly and picked up his phone.

“What did you do?” I repeated.

Instead of answering, he pressed send.

Then he showed me the screen.

A message.

To Edward Norman.

My blood went cold as I read it.

Your son wasn’t alone the night he arrived in the city.

Room 55. Royal Crest Hotel.

He spent the night with a bartender.

I have proof.

“Bruce—”

“If you want this buried before the press gets it, contact me.”

“ARE YOU INSANE?”

I grabbed the phone instantly, but he pulled it away laughing.

“The message already sent.”

“You had no right!”

“No right?” he snapped. “I’m trying to save our lives.”

“Our lives?”

“Yes, our lives.”

“You’re going to get us killed.”

Bruce stood up suddenly.

“Stop acting dramatic.”

“That family owns half the city!”

“Exactly,” he replied. “Which means they can afford to pay very well.”

I backed away slowly.

“You don’t understand people like them.”

“And you do?”

I thought about Jace.

Cold eyes.

Controlled voice.

The way he looked at people like nothing touched him emotionally.

Then I remembered the hotel room.

The confidence.

The arrogance.

The way he left without even asking if I got home safely.

No.

I definitely didn’t understand him.

But I understood enough to know this was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

“You should’ve never sent that message,” I whispered.

Bruce sat back on the couch confidently.

“Relax. Rich people fear scandal more than death.”

But deep down—

I had a terrible feeling this wasn’t going to end with money.

---

Edward Norman’s POV

The moment I opened the message, my mood changed.

A bartender.

I stared at the screen for another few seconds before placing my whiskey glass down.

The timing was too convenient.

Too calculated.

Jace had embarrassed himself publicly less than twenty-four hours ago, and now this appeared.

I pressed the intercom calmly.

“Get Damien into my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

Two minutes later my head of security walked in.

“You called for me, sir?”

I slid the phone across the desk.

“Find out everything about my son’s movements last night.”

Damien read the message silently.

“Everything?” he asked.

“Every camera footage. Every hotel record. Every transaction.”

“And the girl?”

“I want her name before the hour ends.”

“Yes, sir.”

He left immediately.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the city skyline through the glass windows.

Jace was reckless.

Too emotional.

Too arrogant.

I had spent years building Norman Enterprises into something untouchable.

And now shareholders were questioning whether my son deserved to inherit it.

That could not happen.

Not because of a woman.

One hour later, Damien returned.

“We confirmed the hotel.”

“And the girl?”

He handed me a file.

“Charlotte Hayes. Bartender at Monarch Lounge.”

I opened the file slowly.

Simple background.

No powerful family.

No connections.

No influence.

Good.

Very good.

Damien placed another photograph on the desk.

Charlotte entering Room 55.

Late night.

Clear image.

Enough to ruin headlines if leaked publicly.

I stared at the photograph quietly.

Then a solution formed in my mind.

If the public wanted responsibility—

I would give them responsibility.

---

Jace’s POV

I was halfway through my second glass of whiskey when my father walked into my penthouse without knocking.

Again.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” I muttered.

“This isn’t a lecture.”

“Then what is it?”

“A problem.”

I looked at him properly now.

His expression already told me something had happened.

He threw a file onto the table.

I opened it casually at first.

Then froze.

Charlotte.

Walking into my hotel room.

Captured clearly on surveillance footage.

I looked up sharply.

“Where did you get this?”

“Someone sent me a message.”

My jaw tightened instantly.

“What kind of message?”

“The kind that costs companies billions if ignored.”

I stood slowly.

“You’re overreacting.”

“No,” my father replied calmly. “You underreacted.”

I tossed the file onto the table.

“So pay whoever it is.”

“And when they return next month asking for more?”

“They won’t.”

“You sound very confident for someone sleeping with bartenders before public inaugurations.”

I looked away irritably.

“It was one night.”

“That’s all scandals need.”

I grabbed my drink again.

“So what now?”

“You’re getting married.”

I almost laughed.

“You already said that.”

“No,” he corrected. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

That got my attention.

“What?”

“Noon. My office.”

“You’ve completely lost your mind.”

“You lost control first.”

I stared at him carefully.

“And who exactly am I marrying?”

He tapped the photograph.

Her.

I looked back at Charlotte’s image.

“The bartender?”

“She solves the problem.”

“She creates more problems.”

“Not after marriage.”

I scoffed.

“You seriously want me to marry some stranger from a bar?”

“She’s poor,” my father said bluntly. “Which means she’s controllable.”

The sentence bothered me more than it should have.

I hated admitting that.

“She’s a human being.”

My father looked amused.

“That suddenly matters to you?”

I stayed silent.

Because honestly—

it didn’t.

Not really.

But marriage?

That was different.

“I’m not turning my life into a publicity stunt.”

“You already did that yourself.”

I looked away again.

“You’re ruthless.”

“I’m prepared.”

Then he leaned slightly closer.

“And if you refuse, I’ll release the story myself before the blackmailer does.”

I stared at him.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

And the worst part?

I believed him.

---

Charlotte’s POV

I had never seen an office that expensive before.

Everything looked polished.

Gold accents.

Marble floors.

Glass walls overlooking the city.

Even the air smelled expensive.

I sat stiffly across from Edward Norman while two lawyers arranged documents on the table.

Then the office door opened.

Jace walked in.

His eyes landed on me instantly.

Recognition flashed briefly across his face.

“You.”

“And you,” I replied quietly.

He looked calmer than he had in the hotel.

Sharper too.

More dangerous.

“This isn’t personal,” Edward interrupted.

I looked at him.

“You want me to marry your son.”

“You’ll be compensated generously.”

“I’m not for sale.”

Jace let out a dry laugh.

“You were literally in a hotel room with me for money.”

The words hit harder than expected.

I looked away immediately.

“That’s low,” I muttered.

“It’s true.”

“Enough,” Edward said.

I crossed my arms tightly.

“What exactly happens after this marriage?”

“You become Mrs. Norman publicly,” Edward replied. “Appearances. Charity events. Public stability.”

“How long?”

“One year.”

“One year pretending?”

“Yes.”

I laughed nervously.

“This is insane.”

Jace leaned back in his chair.

“You think I enjoy this?”

“Then why agree?”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“Because unlike you, I actually have something to lose.”

The sentence stung.

I hated that it did.

Edward slid an envelope across the table.

I opened it slowly.

Then froze.

My mother’s nursing bills.

Paid in full.

My little sister’s tuition.

Paid too.

I looked up sharply.

“What is this?”

“A solution,” Edward said calmly.

My eyes burned instantly.

Because for the first time in months—

I could breathe.

No hospital debt.

No overdue tuition.

No eviction fear.

Just relief.

And somehow that terrified me.

“Now,” Edward said quietly. “Are you willing to cooperate?”

I looked at the documents again.

Then at Jace.

Then back at the envelope.

“Yes.”

The lawyer immediately placed the marriage contract in front of us.

Jace signed first.

Fast.

Cold.

Like it meant nothing.

Then the pen was handed to me.

But my fingers shook badly.

The pen slipped from my hand and rolled under the table.

Both of us bent down instinctively.

Our hands touched.

Jace paused slightly.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

I pulled my hand away immediately.

The company COO suddenly frowned while looking at me.

“You look pale.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’ve been holding your stomach since you arrived.”

Every eye in the office shifted toward me instantly.

Heat rushed into my face.

“It’s probably stress.”

“My wife looked like that before we found out she was pregnant,” the COO said casually.

The room went still.

Completely still.

I immediately dropped my hand from my stomach.

“I’m not pregnant.”

Nobody spoke.

But suddenly everyone looked curious.

Even Jace.

Especially Jace.

I grabbed the pen quickly and signed the document before anyone could continue the conversation.

Then I stood up immediately.

“So what now?”

Jace stared at the signature for a few seconds before looking at me.

His eyes had changed slightly.

Harder now.

More unreadable.

Then he stepped closer.

Close enough for only me to hear him.

“If you’re hiding something from me, Charlotte…”

His voice dropped lower.

“I always find out.”

I swallowed hard.

Because for the first time since entering that office—

I realized this marriage might destroy both of us.