The Billionaire's Legal Wife

“Miss Larsen, Mr. Austen will see you now,” the secretary said. Celine swallowed hard before standing up from the couch. She held her old portfolio close to her chest. Although the hall was warm, her hands were becoming cold because of nervousness. “Thank you,” she said, though her voice shook slightly due to anxiety. The double doors opened, and she saw the large office that had a clear view of New York City. At the far end of the room, Duke Austen was sitting behind his desk. He was the Chief Executive Officer of Austen Holdings and one of the youngest billionaires in the country. He did not look up right away. He was writing something on a piece of paper and focusing on it completely. Celine’s throat felt tight just by watching him. What am I doing here? she thought. She was a freelance fashion designer who was struggling to pay her rent. She did not feel like she belonged in a place like this. “Sit,” he said finally, without looking at her. She sat down immediately.

The elevator revealed the entrance of the penthouse. Celine looked around carefully. The place was something she had only seen in magazines and socialite blogs before. “Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Austen,” Clara said as she held the elevator door open. She handed Celine a set of keys attached to a keyring. Celine’s fingers touched the cool metal. “It’s very large,” she said quietly. Her voice showed too much tone of surprise. It seems so surreal. “Yes,” Clara replied. “Mr. Austen expects you to move in today. He is upstairs. You will meet him shortly.” Celine felt uneasy and rolled her suitcase into the penthouse. She still doesn't have any ideas how her decisions will affect her future. She entered the bedroom, placed her bag on the dresser, and noticed a notebook on top of it. The handwriting on the cover read: Rules of the House. Before she could open it, a door from the living room opened. Duke Austen stood there, wearing a formal suit and looking serious. “You’re

At Duke’s office, early morning... Celine stepped out from the elevator, clutching the folder of event receipts Clara told her to deliver. From behind the frosted glass of Duke’s office, she could hear his voice. Even though it's low, it's still full of authority. “No, Alexandra, this isn’t your concern anymore!" Celine froze. The name hit her like a whisper in the dark. Alexandra, the name he whispered. The woman from last night, the one with the smirk. “You don’t get to dictate what’s mine,” the woman’s voice hissed through the speakerphone. “Alexandra—” “No, listen to me!” she snapped. “You parade some nobody as your wife? After what we had?” Celine’s hand trembled. The words sliced through her chest. Duke’s tone hardened. “This conversation is over.” “Oh, it’s not,” Alexandra said angrily. “You think replacing me with a charity case will clean your image? Watch me destroy it.” The line went dead. Celine stepped back, heartbeat thudding in her ears. She didn

The rain poured in sheets. The glass walls of the penthouse glowed faintly with the reflection of lightning. Celine stood by the doorway, barefoot, wrapped in a thin robe that barely shielded her from the chill. Her eyes found him instantly, Duke Austen, seated on the balcony, motionless in the downpour. His suit jacket was discarded beside him, his white shirt plastered to his skin. A half-empty glass of whiskey dangled loosely from his fingers. She hesitated before stepping out. “You’ll catch pneumonia sitting there.” He didn’t turn. “I’ve survived worse.” Celine exhaled, stepping into the rain. “Losing a business deal isn’t the end of the world, Duke." Duke gave a humorless laugh. “For people like you, maybe not.” She sighed first, feeling how important his business is for him, slowly making her realize while he is willing to waste her money just to find a fake wife. Her jaw tightened. “People like me?” He glanced at her finally, his eyes shadowed. “People who still

“Mrs. Austen, your husband wants everyone in the boardroom. Now.” The assistant’s tone was brisk, clipped. Celine froze halfway through the hallway, clutching the folder to her chest. “Everyone?” “Yes, ma’am. It’s urgent.” Her pulse spiked. She hadn’t spoken to Duke since that morning, since that night. He’d been cold, distant, perfectly professional, as if nothing had happened. And now this. When she entered the boardroom, the air felt charged. Every executive in Austen Holdings sat rigidly around the long glass table. Duke stood at the head, his eyes dark, and his jaw tight. “Close the door,” he said without looking at her. She obeyed silently, the click of the latch echoing in the tense room. “Someone,” Duke began, his voice is low but sharp, “has been leaking our client proposals to Castor Dynamics. Again!" A murmur rippled through the room. “Last month, they beat us to two contracts. Today, they filed a mirrored bid on the Novera deal, identical down to the figures.