The Billionaire's Sweet Contract Wife

Sophie’s pov

"You're limping around and you think you're going to college? You're so selfish! Your brother doesn't even have money for his wedding and you presume to waste your time in school with our hard-earned money? You'd better forget your stupid dreams and concentrate on finding a husband! Bring home a decent dowry and do something useful for once at least!"

My father followed and scoffed, "Who told you to be a hero? Rushing in front of a car to save a stranger! We had to pay for your treatment with every penny we saved, you reckless fool. You ruined us, and for what? For someone you don't even know!"

I shivered as my parents' harsh words hit me, my eyes tearing up as I remembered the reason for my lame leg.

A week ago, I was walking down the street, headed to register for university. I got my leg hit by a car because I tried to save an old lady crossing the street.

But my parents didn't think it was worth spending money to save a daughter's leg, and I was forced out of the hospital by them.

However, even then, I didn't regret what I did.

It's important to me that this old woman is alive.

It's just that I don't have any savings to support me in college anymore. I originally paid for college by working part-time jobs. My parents won't be giving me any help with my life.

My fists were clenched, I wasn't going to give up like that.

"That's not true! The old lady gave you a million dollars, but you refused to let me continue my treatment!" I couldn't help but argue back. While I was being treated in the hospital, I overheard a conversation about the old lady giving my parents money for medical expenses. But now they're not mentioning it at all, and my heart feels like it's being crushed, making it difficult for me to breathe.

With a loud pop, my father's beer bottle hit my forehead, blood immediately oozed out of it, and my head felt dizzy.

"How dare you talk to me like that? Do you know how much money we've spent on you? Medical bills, treatments, everything! And the years we spent feeding you and raising you? You didn't grow up on air, bitch!" Father said angrily.

My mother took one look at my wound and immediately withdrew her gaze as she followed in disgust, "Don't think about school. Who would hire a crippled person? You'd better find someone stupid enough to marry you before they realize you're a burden."

My eyes widened. Are they really my biological parents? I'm 18 years old now, and I can completely separate from them. I'd rather work to support myself than follow their arrangements.

I angrily glared at them and shouted, "I absolutely won't accept your arrangements! Absolutely not!" After saying that, I saw my father's eyes turn red as if he wanted to kill me right away. He tried to charge at me, but my mother stopped him. "Mark, we still need her. If you kill her now, we'll lose a lot of money."

I heard my father snort coldly, then reluctantly sat down. My head was still bleeding, and I needed to bandage the wound. I had to go back to my room first.

At dinnertime, my head finally felt a bit better, and my stomach was growling with hunger. I planned to wait until my parents finished eating before going to the fridge to find some leftovers. I didn't want to be insulted by them again; I had no energy left.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. It was my brother, Jack.

"It's dinnertime, Sophie. You know, you need to put on some weight so men will want you," Jack said, giving me a stupid grin.

I immediately glared at him. I didn't want to bother arguing because I knew my parents would side with him without question.

When I went downstairs, my mother came out of the kitchen and started cursing at me as soon as she saw me, "You lazy b*tch, I prepared dinner, and all you know is to come and eat!"

I painfully bit my lip, struggling not to let tears spill from my eyes.

My brother Simon and my father looked at me with disgust, then their gaze returned to their plates. I pulled my chair as far away from them as possible. On my plate, there was only spaghetti, no side dishes.

Except for me, Simon and Jack's plates had steaks on them. I shook my head; as long as I could eat my fill, it was fine. I immediately started eating the spaghetti quickly.

"Simon, come on, eat more beaf," she encouraged my brother, her tone full of love. "You're still developing, you need to eat more beef to grow muscle."

"Jack, you eat some too," Mark added. "Your test is coming up and you can't afford to be at the bottom of the class again, okay?"

I glanced across the table at my brother Jack, who was wolfing down his food like an animal. He had poor grades and had just entered middle school, but our parents still doted on him. He was overweight, his face was round and his features were squished together, and he always kept his head down when he ate, making loud gurgling noises as he shoved his food into his mouth.

Jack sneered, "So what if I come last? It doesn't matter, when Sophie gets married, her dowry will be mine, and the money she earns will also be mine."

Mother nodded, then turned to look at me, her eyes cold and indifferent. "Over the years, our family has sacrificed too much for her. It's time to start repaying us. My side of the family has a distant cousin—he's a bit older, around forty-five—who has been trying hard to find a wife because he's missing a leg. It couldn't be more suitable for Sophie."

What are they talking about? They really have it all planned out, even choosing my marriage partner, no, choosing a buyer for me.

It felt like the blood in my body froze. I was sitting right next to them, but their discussion was as if I didn't exist. I knew they were betting I didn't have the ability to resist.

My brother Simon frowned slightly; he wasn't worried about me but about the family's reputation. "Mom, are you sure this is a good idea? If people find out we're marrying Sophie off to a crippled old man, it'll be humiliating. What would people say?"

"Who else would want her?" She snapped. "What, she thinks she's going to marry a prince? She should be grateful that someone is interested. A lame girl wouldn't have it any other way."

My hands were trembling, and they completely ignored me. I knew arguing would only lead to another beating.

I won't let their plan succeed!

I can't let them ruin me because of their selfish greed.

I'm now completely certain that I'm definitely not their biological daughter. Even if I were, I bet they despised me for being a daughter, because from the start of my memories, I've never received any care or concern from them.

When I was in school, I always got top grades. I received scholarships and grants every year, but the money never went toward my education. The money went into Jack's pocket. He wore expensive shoes and the most fashionable clothes, while I had to wear old clothes - worn-out shoes from a few years ago and second-hand clothes that my relatives no longer wanted.

My self-esteem withered. At school, I kept my head down, too ashamed of my exhaustion to look anyone in the eye.

But when I finally got into college, I saw hope. I worked tirelessly and saved every penny to pay for my tuition. I saved secretly, knowing that my parents wouldn't approve. After months of hard work, I finally saved enough money to register for classes.

For a while, my future seemed bright.

But a week ago, that incident happened, and I had no money on me. My parents would make sure of that, which is why they were so confident I wouldn't run away.

I'd rather be beaten to death by a vagrant than let their plan succeed.

I gathered what little I had on me - a backpack with my papers and a few personal items. I grabbed an old stick to support my injured leg and walked to the front door. I don't know where I'm going, but anywhere is better than here.

I hadn't gone far when I realized that there seemed to be a black limousine following me, my heart racing and my cane clutched tighter.

The rear window of the car rolled down smoothly, revealing a face I didn't recognize but couldn't ignore. A man sitting in the backseat looked at me, which made me freeze in place.

His face is well-defined, his jaw line is hard and clear, and the shadow of the street lamp casts on his face, so handsome that I can't breathe.

I hesitated, taking a few more steps forward. But he kept following me, right by my side. I swallowed hard, feeling nervous. Who is this person? Why is he here?

Finally, I couldn't help but ask, "Excuse me, are you following me?" My voice trembled slightly.

The man didn't say a word as the car door was opened by the driver. When he stepped out, my breath caught again. I must have looked like a beggar, standing there with a large backpack, leaning on an improvised crutch, my limp more pronounced than before, while the man looked like a heavenly deity, sacred and untouchable.

All my senses were overwhelmed by his commanding presence. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, my mind completely losing control as I could only stare at him blankly.

He walked towards me, his large hand suddenly reaching out to pat my head. My eyes widened, feeling as if I was bathed in warm sunlight, an unprecedented warmth enveloping me.

Before I could react, his deep, magnetic voice suddenly spoke up. "I heard your leg hasn't fully recovered yet, why did you suddenly get discharged from the hospital?"

I felt my heart stop beating, and amidst the driver's cough, I finally regained my will, immediately taking a step back.

I swallowed hard, finally asking the question I'd been wanting to know. "Who are you...?"