All Chapters of My marriage was for money, his for vengeance: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

147 Chapters

Chapter 1: The Deal With Clanging Cutlery and Chattering Customers, The Hungry Diner Bustled Like Static At The Back Of Elira Cruz's Mind. In Front Of Her Stood The Endurance Of The Day.

"Five's asking for the extra syrup," one of the girls barked as she passed. Elira wiped the sweat out from her brow and managed a polite smile as she moved. Her white sneakers were once the very definition of clean, but now they were worn and stained. Not much glamor in twelve-hour shifts. "On it, thanks." A forced cheerfulness crept into her voice. She had not been cut out for serving pancakes and refilling coffee cups. Yet, bills needed to be paid, and hers did not come in on time. Balancing a tray with orange juice and greasy bacon, her cell phone buzzed in her apron pocket. Unknown Number. She ignored it. Let them wait. Three hours into her double shift and five to go. Rent was up, utilities were next, and then her brother needed medication. That one really hurt. The sun had finally begun to set behind Manju in the west when her shift ended. Elira wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, the paper towel she had shoved into her apron already wet.

Last Updated : 2025-07-22

chapter 2 lunch rush and life lessons

It was nearing noon, the hour of madness rush at the diner. Orders shot out of the kitchen in spurts of yellings, paper tickets fluttered on the metal rail, and the bell rang like an overcooked warning siren for frayed tempers. Elira navigated through the latticework of tables, her notepad stuffed into her apron, her feet a practiced shuffle to prevent slipping on dropped soda or kids' stray fries."Two specials and one mango float for Table Nine!" the cook bellowed, pushing the plates onto the pickup counter.Elira nodded to the call, not even looking as she passed by Mariz once more. The grayer waitress's hair was already coming undone, curls escaping her bun like rusty wire.Hope you had breakfast," Mariz grumbled to her in passing, eyes darting around the tables like a hawk on Red Bull. "Because lunch ain't in the cards today."Elira let out a whirry laugh. "Who has time to eat?""Right," Mariz sighed.A child at Table Three spilled a glass of orange juice just then. The juice

Last Updated : 2025-07-22

Chapter 3 the envelope and the echoes

The letters leaped before her eyes. Marriage. Proposal. One year. Payment.Elira read the letter five times, and still it didn't make sense.The diner had shut down, the chairs turned upside down onto tables, the floors half-mopped and drying. The only light in the backroom flickered ever so slightly, and the sound of the refrigerator hum was all that remained as the diner's heartbeat at last slowed.She gazed once more at the last line."If you accept, phone the number below. We will start preparations straight away."Her fingers curled with the urge to crumple the letter and shove it in the trash. Her instincts shrieked scam. Joke. Some kind of sick prank by a man with more power than brains.But the name. Caelan Ferrer. That was not just anyone.She recalled the article now—Ferrer Holdings CEO Announces No Interest in Marriage. Too Busy for Love, He Claims.And here he was, appearing in a grease-stained diner inviting her to sign on to marry him?A wealthy man soliciting a struggli

Last Updated : 2025-07-22

Chapter 4 paper chains and promises

The papers crackled as Elira turned the pages of the contract, her gaze following the crisp, unforgiving lettering that defined her next twelve months—if she agreed. Compensation: Generous monthly stipend. Living Arrangement: Shared penthouse suite, one. Medical Benefits: Complete family coverage for immediate. Termination Clause: One year. No renewal unless by mutual agreement. Clause 17: No emotional involvement. Her mouth dry. "This is crazy," she whispered, laying the binder aside with a soft touch. Caelan hadn't budged. His stance remained taut, angular—like a man constructed on deadlines and nothing but deadlines. "You can say no." "But you know I won't," she spat. His jaw worked. "I figured that probability." Of course he had. The guy didn't appear to do anything without figuring out every angle beforehand. . She walked away from him, toward the city scene that glittered outside the glass wall. The view was lovely—untouchable. Much like this existence.

Last Updated : 2025-07-22

Chapter 5 The first morning pretend

.The sun had never been so clear in the mornings before.It sliced through the smog and cracked windowpane like a spotlight—unforgiving, unapologetic, and just too real. Elira stood in her closet, one hand holding the edge of a shirt that had frayed at the collar, the other already knowing it didn't make any difference. None of these were going with her.A black car waited downstairs.She had awakened just after five, after being unable to sleep beyond the moment when her fingers had wrapped themselves around the pen hours before. The signature still seared in her mind. Elira Cruz, in dark blue ink, next to Caelan Ferrer's unreadable scribble.A transaction. A promise. A surrender.She glanced around her room—at the pictures pinned to walls with masking tape, the cracked mug Leni had given her for her birthday, the little cat figurine that once perched on their childhood window sill. It was stupid to be sentimental. She was still coming back eventually.Right?There was a knock at

Last Updated : 2025-07-24

Chapter 6: The Art of Pretending

"Wake up, Miss Elira."The gentle voice sounded through the door as if light seeping between drapes.Elira swung an arm over her eyes and rolled over, tucking her face deeper into the plush pillows. "Who we?" she growled into the bedding.Angela laughed softly in the doorway. "The glam team's already here. Thirty minutes for fittings."Of course she did. Because in this world, even waking up came with an agenda.11:00 AM – Brunch with the Ferrer FoundationShe arrived in the lounge dressed in a soft pastel midi dress that felt more like armor than clothing. One of the foundation’s directors smiled warmly as Elira entered.“Miss Cruz,” she said, extending her hand, “we’re thrilled to finally meet you. Caelan speaks highly of your… authenticity.”Elira nearly choked on her mimosa."Oh. Thank you. I'm still… learning the ropes. But I believe in the work."They talked of future charity projects, educational scholarships, and community outreach. All altruistic things—but Elira couldn't sha

Last Updated : 2025-07-26

Chapter 7: The Line Between 6:47 AM – The Mirror

Elira stood before the mirror, toothbrush in hand, her reflection misty with sleep and last night's mascara. The robe had slipped over one shoulder, her hair a halo of disarray. She was a stranger. Or perhaps she always was.She nudged the smudge under her eye, then left the brush in the sink.Last night still lingered on her skin—the stillness of unspoken truth in the kitchen, the almost-confession hidden between bites of cake and tension. And Clause 17, always humming in the recesses of her mind, a warning bell or a prayer.No emotional involvement.But her body recalled the warmth of his eyes, the shock of his silence, and the way the room felt too crowded when he left."Get a grip," she grumbled to herself, splashing water on her face.---8:30 AM – The Dining RoomThe penthouse remained as glass when she entered, only the distant clinking of a cup resonating from the breakfast bar. Caelan occupied his habitual position, dark hair still damp from a shower, reading something on his

Last Updated : 2025-07-26

Chapter 8: The Things We Don't Say

6:23 AM – The KitchenElira restirred her tea in slow, distracted arcs. The steam curled away, vanishing into the still kitchen like something slipping from her fingers.Sleep had been a stranger last night.Even under the soft comforter and hundred-thread sheet bedding, her brain had remained awake—circling memories, dissecting his words, her own responses."Not a promise."The words wedged somewhere between her ribs. She had no idea what she had been expecting—but it wasn't this.She raised the cup to her mouth but did not take a sip.Footsteps approached behind her in soft steps. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was."Couldn't sleep?" Caelan asked, voice softer than normal, as if acknowledging something delicate between them.She shook her head. "You?"He filled himself coffee. No sugar, no cream. Black and bitter—like the rest of him now. "Same."He leaned against the counter across from her, cradling the mug as if it supported him. He seemed. different. Not weak, not

Last Updated : 2025-07-26

Chapter 9: Fault Lines

6:05 AM – Penthouse KitchenThe aroma of coffee reached Elira before she reached the doorway.She discovered Caelan already dressed, sharp in a charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up, staring at his phone. He didn't glance up."You're up early," she spoke, her voice husky with sleep."I have calls with Singapore in twenty." He looked up at her then, hesitating. "You look like you didn't sleep again."She shrugged, taking a mug. "Big day."He nodded but said no more.Silence between them wasn't unusual. But this one was.charged. Like yesterday's discussion hadn't stopped, only morphed—like the unspoken words still lingered in the air, to be filled in.She brought her coffee to the balcony.Behind her, she heard the quiet swish of him trailing her.---10:30 AM – Midtown Studio, Ferrer Foundation PR CampaignBright lights. White background. A stylist taming the flyaway hairs near her temple."Elira, look over here," the photographer shouted.Click."Now softer."Click.She complied,

Last Updated : 2025-07-27

Chapter 10: The Weight of Yes

5:47 AM – Penthouse BedroomThe sun was just starting to seep through the skyline when Elira woke up.Her body detected heat first—firm, still heat that wasn't coming from the sheets. Then breath. Even. Close.She opened her eyes into the soft light of morning and saw her head on Caelan's shoulder. Her hand, still hidden beneath his, was a small anchor in the gap between them.He didn't stir.But she recognized he wasn't sleeping."You stayed," he rasped, his voice low and rough."I did."Not a vow.But not nothing.His thumb drew a absent circle over her knuckles. It was restrained, hesitant—like if he demanded more, he'd lose even this.Her chest hurt thinking about it. She moved her head, pressing her cheek more deeply against him. "You still think it's a mistake?" she whispered."No," he replied, this time without hesitation. "I think. I'm afraid of how much I don't want it to be."She didn't respond. She didn't need to.Her silence wasn't withdrawal—it was acknowledgement.---9:

Last Updated : 2025-07-27

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