Melodramatic Contract Marriage Short Stories & Novels

I arranged a lavish dinner cruise in Alpha Lucien Grimfang's honor. However, I mistakenly wore the ceremonial gown that had once belonged to his late Luna, Sylvia Wilder. In front of all the guests, his ten-year-old son, Rhett Grimfang, suddenly rammed me into the champagne tower. The shattered crystal glasses left deep cuts across my skin. "Don't think that you can replace my mother just because you're wearing her sacred gown! You're nothing but a dog—obedient and always at my father's beck and call! Don't you dare dream of claiming a Luna's honor!" His cold, scornful expression mirrored Lucien's perfectly. "I can make you leave anytime I want!" I forced myself to look up at the pup I had raised. "Don't trouble yourself. Tomorrow, I'll submit my resignation to the Elder Council and leave for good."

On the morning of my wedding, a man in a groom's suit showed up at my door. Before anyone could speak, he walked in and told my stylist to do his hair first. My groomsmen and I had no idea what was happening. When we asked who he was, he looked me up and down and smirked. "Meredith didn't tell you? I'm the groom today. You're not needed. You already got your name on the marriage certificate, right? Count your blessings and take the hint." I held it together and called Meredith Soames. Her voice on the other end was as gentle as ever, but it made my stomach turn. "I should've told you about Royce. But he was the one who was there for me when I had nothing. The marriage is yours. Your name's on the certificate. Just let him have the ceremony." That was when I realized that in the past five years, I had never truly seen her for what she was.

My father died. He left me a contract. A marriage to the Donovans. The Chicago Outfit. He wanted the future Don to protect me. The whole family's power, wrapped around me for life. But on my wedding day to the eldest, Finn… he ran. Took my family housekeeper's daughter with him. His brother, Cillian Donovan, stepped up. He married me instead. Wedding night. I was in the music room. Alone. Playing the cello. A sad song for my father. Cillian kicked the door open. His eyes were bloodshot. Pure jealousy. A sneer on his face. “Does marrying me instead of Finn really hurt you this much?” For the next five years, he brought women home. Different ones. Kissing them in my rose garden. Fucking them in our bed. I swallowed it all. Played the part. The perfect Donna of the Donovan family. Until today. When he kept his latest toy around for four months. My heart hit the floor. She clung to Cillian's arm, her red lips at his ear. “Cillian, the way your wife looks at me… like she wants to eat me alive.” Cillian stroked her hair, not really caring. His eyes found mine. A cruel smile. “My wife? She doesn't want to be. She wants to be his woman. The traitor's.” That night, a rival family hit the estate. Fire everywhere. Cillian grabbed his girl. Ran for the armored car. No hesitation. I was on the ground. Smoke in my lungs. Couldn't move. I watched him drive away. Leaving me in the dust. Something inside me just… snapped. Five years of this bullshit marriage. I was going to end it. Myself. …

I had an arranged marriage, and my wife was the only daughter of her family. Because of PTSD, she couldn't be intimate with anyone. When she handed me the signed agreement, she also sent a gentle, obedient woman to my room. "Even though it's our wedding night, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with this." I stared at her in disbelief, wondering if this was some kind of test of my character. Just as I was about to launch into a speech about loyalty and marriage, I suddenly heard the thoughts of the psychologist standing beside her. [What does he have to complain about? That position should've been mine! If Kayla didn't need the Grant family's support, she never would've agreed to marry a loser like him! Luckily, Kayla loves me. She even used PTSD as an excuse to save herself for me. I just need to try harder and get her pregnant, then Benjamin Grant will become a complete laughingstock!] The words that had been on the tip of my tongue disappeared instantly. Without hesitation, I accepted Kayla's arrangement. There was nothing wrong with people in a business marriage living separate lives. I wasn't an idiot. Why would I pick a fight with Kayla over something like this? Living peacefully and minding my own business was the smartest choice. To show that I had no inappropriate intentions toward her, I even ordered maternity and baby supplies for her. "I heard you're pregnant. Coincidentally, the woman you sent to me is pregnant too." I was planning to ask her for some advice. Instead, her face darkened. She gritted her teeth and snapped, "I'm not pregnant! She's not your mistress either. She's the IVF coordinator I hired to get you up to speed!"

On the way to the Spring Garden Ball, I was seized by men with murder on their minds, and the undercover guard meant to protect me vanished without a trace. I clawed my way through three days that should have killed me and finally dragged myself back to the estate, only to find a whole line of men kneeling in front of my guard. "Your Highness, if you fancy Lady Melanie, you could simply ask for her hand. Why disguise yourself as a bodyguard and stay glued to her elder sister, Lady Elizabeth's side, going so far as to have men dump her out in the wilderness just so she wouldn't outshine your beloved?" Julius Fitzroy's expression didn't so much as flicker. He kept turning the sapphire ring on his finger. "Melanie is only a concubine's daughter. She's sensitive by nature, and I was afraid a hasty proposal would frighten her off. This was the only way." That was how I found out. The Prince Julius had been living at my side in disguise this whole time, and it had never been about me at all. It was always about getting close to my half-sister. My heart turned to ash. I shoved open my father's door. "I'll marry the Crown Prince, sickly or not."

Right after I die, my wife goes on a date with her first love. I once told her, "If I die, I swear I won't love you in the next life." She scoffs. "Gladly. But people like you live forever, don't they?" Just as she wishes, I die. However, right then, she holds my urn close, whispering, "Are you still mad at me?"

Yvonne Foster, my wife from an arranged marriage, is a control freak who loves me to her core. From business operations to the smallest details of daily life, she takes charge of everything herself. If someone dares to target me in business, their company is shut down for investigation the very next day. Women who set their sights on me always disappear without a trace. Yvonne always acts as if she can't stand me, but I know she is the kind of person who acts tough on the outside but cares deeply on the inside. This goes on until my parents find their true biological son, and I turn out to be the fake heir. The real heir, Fabian Madden, has spent his whole life in the countryside. I hear that he has an honest, simple personality. But when every bone in my body is shattered, and I'm thrown into an abandoned factory with my mouth stuffed full of blood-soaked dirt, he stares down at me haughtily. "You darn parasite living off a woman! You stole more than 20 years of wealth and privilege that should have been mine. Die! Just die already!" He buries my body in the garden and uses it to nourish a vast bed of roses as a birthday gift for Yvonne. Pointing at the sea of roses, he says ingratiatingly, "Yvonne, do you like this field of roses?"

Everyone in Hemsouth City knew Joe Kingston as the ultimate trust fund kid. Tall, handsome, and wild, he lived exactly how he pleased. At the height of his partying days overseas, an urgent telegram from his father summoned him home. It contained only one cold, uncompromising line: "Come home immediately. You're marrying Fiona Spencer." Fiona was one of the youngest and most promising officers in the military. Cool, disciplined, and fiercely self-controlled, she couldn't have been more different from him. He lived for a good time. She preferred peace and quiet. He did whatever he wanted and had gotten himself into more trouble than he could count. She followed every rule to the letter and treated military discipline as absolute. He was wild and free, changing girlfriends as often as he changed clothes. She was famously uninterested in men and had supposedly never even held a male soldier's hand. Just the thought of marrying someone that uptight made him feel suffocated. So Joe pulled every trick he could think of to sabotage the marriage before it ever happened.

My fiance's precious childhood crush, Amber Sweeney, was in a political union with the infamous Julian Grant, heir to the Grant family empire and a notorious playboy. Unable to stand the thought of Amber being "sacrificed", Ryan Carter barged into her wedding to stop it. They registered their marriage that day, making headlines across the city. The whole of D.C.'s elite waited to watch me and the Grant family become the city's biggest joke. What they didn't expect was that on the very next day, Julian would roll up to my company in his high-key sports car, leaning against the hood like he had all the time in the world. "Your fiance stole my bride. You'll be repaying that debt by marrying me. Fair trade, right?" I stared at his blazing red hair and wild grin, and smiled back coolly. "Sounds fair to me."

It is 9:00 pm, and a soft glow still lights the master bedroom on the Lowe residence's second floor. "Helena, there's only a month left before the marriage agreement ends. Once it's up, I'll go ahead and arrange the fake death." Sitting at her vanity, Bianca Lane types the message and sends it to her mother-in-law, Helena Johnson. A reply comes back almost instantly. "Bianca, you've worked so hard these past ten years. You've taken such good care of Sebastian and even gave birth to a child for our family. "To me, you've always been my daughter-in-law. Why not just forget about the agreement?" Reading the message, Bianca unconsciously tightens her grip on her phone before quickly typing her response. "No, Helena. Let's just stick to the agreement."

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

"How can there be a perfect choice in this world—one that betrays neither the Sandharan Order nor the one you love?" It's a romantic line, but it has nothing to do with Rosalie Stone. Her fiance, Bradley Wakefield, is a man revered like Sandhara himself, but it's not because of her that he leaves the Sandharan Order. She thinks he will never fall in love. But later, she learns that it's just her that he won't fall for. And so, she gives up on him. She gives herself seven days to forget about Bradley.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

“Joseph, I’m begging you for the last time. On account of how young Rachel is, can we please extend the agreement?” Mrs. Gibson pleaded. Joseph said firmly, “Mrs. Gibson, we previously agreed that I’d divorce Chloe once the six years is up.” “Alright then,” Mrs. Gibson sighed regretfully. “I respect your decision. It’s been tough on you these few years…” “Thank you. Please keep my plans to go abroad a secret for now.”

I was Randy Johnson's contract wife. For five years, I tried every possible way to make him fall in love with me. But aside from showing me concern in bed, he ignored me the rest of the time. When a piece of equipment at the amusement park fell and struck me, the first thing he did was rush to his beloved first love. She was startled but unscathed. Yet, he rushed her straight to the hospital. When a towering cake display collapsed on me, leaving blood streaming down my arm, he still chose to comfort his first love, who merely had a stomachache. Since he loved her so deeply, there was no reason for me, his contract wife, to stay. So I let him go and freed myself in the process. I chose to study abroad, vowing never to see him again for the rest of my life. I never expected… this time, he would be the one to regret it.

I was married to Chad Caldwell for ten years. I met all his girlfriends during our marriage. Whenever he got bored and wanted to move on, I was his best excuse. "If you marry me, you'll end up like her. Too familiar and no spark left." On our anniversary, I wiped tears for his latest ex, a college girl, while he was at the movies with his new fling. She used up a pack of tissues, and I seemed to see my old self in her. Afterward, I asked Chad for a divorce. He was confused. "Why not wait a bit? Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf." I gave a faint smile but said nothing. Instead, I booked a plane ticket and flew across the ocean. If he wouldn't turn around, I'd take the first step.