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THE TERMS OF OUR MARRIAGE

THE TERMS OF OUR MARRIAGE

Romance
last updateLast Updated : 2026-05-20
By:  Elora Monroe Ongoing
Language: English
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Synopsis

Drama

Survival Game

Contemporary

CEO

Goodgirl

Independent

Contract Marriage

Love-Triangle

Twist

Elena Rossi’s life ended the day a plane went down in Milan. One phone call stole her parents, her inheritance, and the future they built for her. What remained was a paralyzed younger brother, mounting hospital bills, and relatives who promised protection but left her with nothing. Survival becomes her only dream. Pride becomes optional. And when desperation pushes her onto a stage behind a mask, she tells herself it’s temporary. Adrian Vale does not believe in love. As the billionaire CEO of a global fashion empire, he believes in control, strategy, and clean exits. But when his grandfather’s failing kidneys turn time into a countdown, Adrian is forced into a choice he never wanted — marry his manipulative ex or lose the only family he has left. So he makes a deal instead.A contract marriage with the last woman anyone would expect.Two years. No feelings. No intimacy. No strings attached. He is a man who no longer believes in love and she is a girl in desperate search for mean. What begins as an arrangement of convenience slowly becomes something far more dangerous. Between hospital corridors, shared grief, and sacrifices no one asked for, lines blur. And when their fake marriage is exposed to the world, pride tears them apart — leaving behind secrets that could bind them forever. Because some contracts expire,but love doesn’t follow terms. What happens when a deal meant to be temporary changes the course of your life? Can true love actually blossom from a contract marriage? Would their love story survive the test of pride?

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36 Chapters
THE CALL FROM MILAN
I used to believe tragedy had a sound.A crash or a scream or maybe tires shrieking against wet asphalt.But when my parents died, it sounded like a phone vibrating against the kitchen counter.That was all.Just a small, mechanical tremor beside a bowl of flour I hadn’t finished sifting.I almost didn’t answer it.It was 4:17 p.m. Luca was sitting at the table,playing videos on his phone in the corner of the kitchen and still managed to keep me company while I prepared what was meant to be dinner.I was arguing with yeast that refused to rise. Mama had called that morning from Milan, laughing about how Papa had tried to bargain in broken Italian with the natives for extra packaging crates.“We’ll be home tomorrow night, tesoro,” she’d said. “Start the sauce. We’ll celebrate.”“Celebrate what?”,I asked before the line ended.“Another successful shipment of Rossi & Co. pasta to luxury grocers across Europe. Another year of steady growth. Another reminder that we had built something solid
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INHERITANCE THEFT AND EMPTY PROMISES
Grief has a smell. It smells like overbrewed coffee, wilted funeral flowers, and strangers sitting too comfortably in your living room.Three days after we buried my parents, the house was full. Not with comfort but with opinions.Aunt Teresa stood in the kitchen wearing Mama’s apron like it had always belonged to her. Uncle Vittorio occupied Papa’s armchair, legs spread wide, flipping through company files he had no right to touch. Cousins hovered near the staircase, whispering in low voices that stopped when I walked past. They had come to “help.” I would have said something but I was too grief striken. If only Luca was here,he would have told Aunt Teresa to take off Mama’s apron and Uncle to get off Papa’s favourite chair and also probably make our cousins leave the staircase and Mama always warned us against just hovering around it.Luca was still in the hospital. I had just returned from a morning meeting with a neurologist who spoke gently about long-term rehabilitation and occu
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THE ONLY FAMILY LEFT
The runway lights in Paris dimmed to applause.Cameras flashed. Editors stood. Buyers clapped with measured enthusiasm that translated into numbers, contracts, headlines. At the end of the runway, Adrian Vale did not smile. He inclined his head once, controlled, precise, then turned before the ovation could reach his eyes.Vale Atelier had just closed the most anticipated show of the season. The collection would sell out before sunrise. Analysts would call him visionary, ruthless and untouchable just as always. He stepped backstage and removed his cufflinks with mechanical ease. His phone vibrated. He ignored it. Assistants swarmed him with congratulations. Marcus Hale, his business partner who turned friend clapped him on the back, grinning.“You just secured the Asian expansion without even trying,” Marcus said. “Your grandfather is going to gloat for weeks.”The phone vibrated again. Adrian glanced down, and saw that the caller was Thomas Reed. His driver did not call twice unless
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ELENA JOB HUNTS
Morning arrived without mercy.Elena had learned that hospitals did not care about exhaustion. Bills did not care about grief and hunger did not care about pride.The envelope waited on the small plastic table beside Luca’s bed. It was an unapologetic final notice in red ink. She stared at it long enough for the letters to blur.Across the room, Luca sat propped up by pillows, conscious now but weak, his movements slow and deliberate. Recovery had come in fragments—eye contact first, then speech, then careful physical therapy sessions that left him trembling. He was healing but healing cost money.“Elena?” he asked quietly, noticing her silence.She folded the paper before he could read the numbers on her face.“Just paperwork,” she lied.She could not darethat the amount was larger than the monthly stipend they received from Uncle Vittorio even if they saved it for three months.Larger than her savings. Larger than what remained of the jewelry she had sold.She had called Uncle Vittor
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IMMORAL OFFER
The bass of the club hit my chest like a drum, reverberating through every nerve in my body. I wiped my damp hands on my apron and counted the empty cocktail glasses. The place was growing expanding faster than the management could handle and everyone could feel the strain, even me, a newbie. The bar had been chaos all evening, orders flying faster than I could pour. But chaos wasn’t new. I thrived on survival. That’s all I’d known these past months with the bills, therapy schedules and hospital corridors. Then came the proposal.“Short-staffed again,” the manager said, voice low, leaning close so only I could hear over the music. “We need you in a different role with a higher pay. Almost triple the pay, pole dancing.”I froze mid-step, the cloth I was using to wipe the counter slipping from my hands. My heart hammered in a confusing rhythm. Pole dancing with a much higher pay. Enough to finally cover Luca’s therapy bills without worrying every second.But at what cost?I had been be
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GRANDPA'S REQUEST
The sunlight poured into the Vale Manor study, golden but not warm, as if the world outside had forgotten how to care. Adrian Vale sat behind the massive oak desk, fingers steepled, eyes trained on the ledger before him, but he wasn’t reading numbers. Not really. He was listening.“Adrian,” Mr Giovanni Vale said, his voice steady but with a sharp edge Adrian hadn’t heard in years. The old man’s hands, gnarled with age but still firm, rested on the armrest of his chair. “We need to talk about your… future.”Adrian looked up, one brow arched. Future. That word had felt irrelevant since the day he had lost both parents. Since the day Camilla had betrayed him, emptied his accounts, and walked out of his life with no regard for loyalty or love. Since then, future had been just a concept for other people.“I don’t understand,” Adrian said flatly. “What do you mean?”Giovanni’s gaze was unyielding. He leaned forward, the weight of his years pressing into the room. “I mean your grandfather do
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EX VISITS
The call was placed before dawn fully stretched across the sky.In the quiet grandeur of his estate, Adrian Vale’s grandfather sat upright despite the tremor in his fingers. Age had thinned his body, but not his will. Illness clung to him like a shadow that refused to leave, and he could feel time slipping, not dramatically, not loudly but steadily.He had built an empire with his bare hands. He had buried friends. He had watched his only son been lowered into the earth. And now, the only thing standing between the Vale name and silence was a grandson too proud and too wounded to build a future.So he dialed her number.She answered on the third ring.Her voice softened instantly when she heard his. She sounded concerned, tender and almost reverent.He told her about the illness.He did not exaggerate nor did not dramatize his condition. He simply spoke of time running thin and unfinished business weighing heavy on his heart. He told her he wanted to see her. To discuss something impo
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CHAPTER EIGHT : THE GIRL IN THE MASK
Sleep did not come to Adrian Vale that night. It hovered at the edge of consciousness and refused to land.He lay in a room too large, too quiet, too expensive for the kind of unrest clawing at his chest. The confrontation with his ex replayed in fragments. Her voice, her lies, his grandfather’s fragile hope cracking under reality. The words he overheard pressed against his skull like a migraine that would not fade.He turned sharply in bed, exhaling in frustration. The house felt suffocating. The portraits on the walls downstairs felt like silent judges. Even the air felt thick with expectation.By midnight, he gave up. He dressed without thinking too much about it. Black shirt. Dark coat. No tie. He did not inform anyone. He did not need permission to escape his own home. If rest would not come to him, he would drown the noise elsewhere.The club was alive in a way his house was not. Music pulsed. Lights bled red and gold across polished floors. Laughter and indulgence floated throu
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CHAPTER NINE : MISJUDGED
I folded my arms instinctively, though my pulse was still misbehaving from the performance. The backstage lights flickered above us, dull compared to the red blaze outside, but bright enough for me to see it clearly and know that Adrian was not entirely sober. Not stumbling. Not reckless. But softer around the edges. His usual sharpness had blurred just enough to expose something underneath. Somealmost human.He stepped closer, not invading, just closing distance. His eyes moved over my face, pausing briefly at the mask before returning to my eyes.His tone wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t amused.A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t snap back immediately. Instead, his gaze dropped.“Your hands,” he said quietly.I frowned. “What?”“They’re stiff.”I hadn’t realized I was flexing them. My fingers were still curled slightly from gripping the pole too tightly during my final spin.“It’s nothing,” I dismissed. “Occupational hazard.”He reached for my wrist in a way that was not forceful. J
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CHAPTER TEN : CEO'S REMORSE
Adrian did not look back at the bar.If he had, he would have seen Elena standing rigid behind the counter, jaw set, eyes burning with something close to hurt. But he didn’t look.He walked straight into the private lounge.The music dulled behind soundproofed doors. The lighting softened into gold instead of red. The air smelled of money and quiet indulgence.He sank into one of the leather seats and signaled for another drink. He wasn’t drunk but he wasn’t sober either.He was somewhere in between where words said too quickly begin to echo louder than intended.Two dancers approached him almost immediately. They were polite, practiced, smiling in the way the industry required.“Mr. Vale,” one purred softly. “Care for company?”He didn’t lift his eyes from the glass.“No.”The dismissal was calm, so they lingered.“We can make your evening better.”He looked up then, not angry, just distant.“I said no.”It wasn’t loud. But it was firm enough that they stepped back. They tried again
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