The Billionaire's undercover bride

Sleep and I stopped being friends a long time ago. The light of my monitor is the only light left in the office, cold and steady, numerous files and empty coffee cups. Everyone else has gone hours ago, but I’m still here—eyes dry, fingers tracing patterns across encrypted spreadsheets. Vale Global Security’s accounts are a fortress. Every transaction feels… deliberate. Clean on the surface, but too smooth to be natural. I tapped into a data cluster. “Come on,” I mutter, tapping a key. “Show me what you’re hiding.” A line of code blinks back. My vision blurs for a second. I blink hard, rubbed my eyes. The Atmosphere of the office feels heavier at this hour, the AC too cold and everywhere was silent too. I breathe out hard and leaned back in my chair. “Five minutes,” I whisper. “Just five.” My phone rang, A message from Charlotte: “Any progress?” I type back, Still . He’s clean so far. Then, almost against my own will, I add, Too clean. I closed my laptop and stretche

The office had been a storm for weeks—files, leads, encrypted accounts, endless coffee cups. But today, the storm felt different. Today, I would step into the eye of it. Damon Vale waited in his private penthouse, tall, composed, the city lights stretching beneath him like a sea of stars. When he turned to me, his expression was unreadable—but the weight in his eyes matched mine. “So,” he said, voice low and precise, “about this… arrangement.” I perched on the edge of the leather chair, folder clutched in my lap, heart hammering against reason. “We’ve discussed it with Charlotte. Six months. Contract marriage. Legal, binding, but temporary. Just enough to stabilize your public image while I gather the necessary evidence.” He nodded slowly, gaze drifting to the skyline. “Six months. I can live with that. As long as we understand—strictly professional. Nothing beyond the contract.” I forced a tight nod, though my stomach twisted. “Understood.” The pause stretched, heavy wi

(Vivian’s POV) The sound of rain tapping against the wide glass windows filled the silence of the penthouse. Damian’s home was beautiful in that way expensive things are—cold, precise, almost too perfect to breathe in. But tonight, it felt softer somehow, like the rain had managed to blur its sharp edges. I stood by the window, arms folded, watching the streaks of water trail down the glass. The city lights shimmered through them—tiny constellations scattered across wet streets. Behind me, I could hear Damian moving quietly around the living room. He never made noise unless he wanted to. Even his presence was controlled. We had been married for a month. A contract on paper. A performance for the world. But the lines we’d drawn had begun to blur. “Long day?” His voice was calm, low—like a slow note on a piano. I turned to find him leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, collar loosened, the faintest shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. For a man who carried an empire o

(Vivian’s POV) The morning after the messages, I barely slept. Every sound outside the penthouse felt magnified — the hum of traffic, the elevator doors, even the distant whine of the city felt like a threat breathing against the glass. But I couldn’t tell Damian. Not now He had been buried in crisis meetings since the breach, and the last thing I needed was for him to see the crack in my composure. When the doorbell rang mid-morning, I expected his assistant or another courier. I didn’t expect her. A woman stepped inside, tall and elegant, her hair silvered at the edges but perfectly styled, her posture regal. The kind of woman who carried her own atmosphere — calm, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “Mrs. Vale?” I asked, startled. She smiled gently. “Please, dear. Call me Victoria. I couldn’t wait for formal invitations to meet my daughter-in-law.” Her voice was soft but deliberate, each word dipped in old-world grace. I managed a polite smile and tried not to tri

(Damian’s POV) The sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin golden threads, cutting across the floor and touching Vivian’s hair where she sat by the window. She was already awake, legs folded beneath her, a cup of coffee balanced delicately between her hands. For a moment, I just watched her. There was something grounding about her stillness — like she carried peace where I could never seem to find it. But behind my calm gaze, my mind wasn’t still. The message from last night still burned on my phone: “Ask your wife where she was the night the breach began.” It was absurd. Baseless. And yet… the unease had rooted itself deep. Because the night of the breach was chaos — and I’d always suspected it was an inside job. Still, when she turned to look at me, smiling softly, all of that slipped away. “You’re awake early,” she said. “I didn’t sleep much.” “Bad dreams?” “Something like that.” I walked to the kitchen, poured myself coffee, and tried to shake the heaviness fr