Signed to Mr. Billionaire

I couldn't cry when my landlord slid a sudden eviction notice under my door. I felt sick in my stomach as tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Could hardly hold them back but somehow I did.But on a second thought, I shouldn't have. I should have rolled up on the floor of my tiny apartment, screaming at the unfairness of life. But I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down not when my Dad was lying in a hospital bed, his medical bills piling up faster than I could count.I really wanted to cry but remembered it was not going to change nor pay the bills so, instead of crying, I did the only thing I thought would be best I could do, I grabbed my apron and dragged myself to work.It was not the life I had dreamed of. For a very long time, I had wanted to be a writer, not just a regular writer, but a well-known writer in the world. A big dream yea? Well, I know too well but, still wanting to write stories that would make people feel something, I mean somethi

The way he said my name made me feel some kind of way more like a shiver running fast down my spine.I exhaled loudly, grabbing the pen in my hand.This was it. No turning back.I pressed the pen to the paper BANG!The door to Alexanders' office was forced open so violently that they nearly slammed into the walls.A woman suddenly badged into his office so quickly, like she was chasing after someone, or rather was being chased. Her heels clicked snappily against the marble floor. Tall, elegant, and furious, her kind of beauty is rare, I mean her beauty speaks. She had the kind of beauty that makes you feel less significant just by standing next to her.“Alex, you've got to be kidding me,” she exclaimed, shunning my presence completely.Alexander sighed, not looking too surprised like he had been expecting this.“Isabella now is not the time.”Isabella? The name sent off a distant alarm in my brain.Then I remembered. Isabella Monroe. CEO of Noir Monarch Media. The woman the tabloids

I blinked. “You mean besides the eight hundred thousand dollars?”His expression remained unreadable. “Yes.”I hesitated, fingers tracing the marble countertop. Why had I agreed?Because my father needed medical treatment. Because I had no other options. Because, deep down, I wanted to prove I could handle this.Instead, I shrugged. “Why did you ask me to go into a contract marriage with you ?”Alexander exhaled, swirling the water in his glass. “You fit the image. You were the least complicated choice.”Ouch. I felt the harshness in that.“Glad to know I’m your best ‘least complicated’ option,” I muttered.He didn’t apologize, because, of course, he wouldn’t.Instead, he just said, “Get some rest. We have a public appearance tomorrow.”And just like that, he left again unannounced, disappearing down the hall.I let out a slow breath, staring at the spot where he had stood.This arrangement was simple on paper, but being in Alexander Pierce's world it was going to be anything but easy

I suddenly heard the car door slam behind me. I sank into the leather seat, the city lights bleeding past the tinted windows. Alexander slid in beside me, silent. The driver pulled off without a word.I kept my arms wrapped around myself, still shaken. My ex was alive. Free. Watching me. And Alexander had seen the panic written boldly all over my face.Now he sat there like a stone. Cold. Sharp. Distant.Back to normal.“Eleanor,” he said without looking at me, “next time, don’t freeze like that in public. You made us look unstable.”My head jerked toward him. “Are you serious?”“You saw someone who triggered you. Fine. But you need to remember your role. I pay you to act like my wife, not fall apart in public.”My mouth went dry. Any softness he showed on the balcony was gone now, replaced with the man I knew behind closed doors—calculated, controlled, and ruthless.“You pretended to care in there,” I said quietly. “Held me. Protected me.”“It was necessary,” he replied coolly. “Opti

I couldn't sleep that night. Fear sinks its claws into me.The gun sat on my nightstand like a dark augury. Its cold presence made everything real. No more pretending. No more detachment. Brenton was close, close enough to photograph me through a window.And Alexander… he handed me a weapon like it was nothing. Like it was normal.Like this was my life now.I kept on thinking while I stared at the ceiling until dawn, then dressed in silence and made my way downstairs. Alexander was already up, dressed in a pristine black suit, typing away on his phone as if nothing was going on.“You need to be at the charity hospital by ten,” he said without looking up. “They’re expecting Mrs. Pierce to smile and pretend she gives a damn about sick kids.”“Maybe I actually do,” I muttered.He looked up. His expression was unreadable. “This isn’t the time to start caring.” He said coldly.“I’m not like you,” I said, acting all bold.He stood, buttoned his jacket, and majestically walked past me.“