Contract Wife Novels & Stories

He slammed his hands on the steering wheel as he finally looked at me. "You are driving me crazy too, Miles. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that? Why are you acting like we are couples?" I snapped at him, and he raised his eyebrows. "We are just married on contract, and the last time I checked, we didn't make any agreement that we were not going to live our personal lives. We didn't agree that neither of us was not going to see another man or woman, so why are you making a big deal out of this?" I yelled at him again, and he flinched.

“I work under an agency. I’m just doing my job.” Her tone was cold, detached. She knew he’d have questions. And she was ready to answer them because she knew how these contract marriages worked all too well. George scoffed. “And this is what your company does? Marries people off without their consent?” “She didn’t ask for much. Just presence. Discretion. Patience.” He let out a bitter laugh. “She asked you to live in my house and pretend to be my wife.” “She asked me to protect the image of your marriage. And to give you the privilege to explore.”

With his hands outstretched, he was giving me the keys to the bike. "Oh, yes please," I said as I collected the keys from his grasp. I knew I had to do something to clear my head, it seemed like I had totally lost it lately, because what else could explain the recent thoughts I have been having? Why should I be bothered that a lady is upset with me? Let alone my contract wife. That is what Scarlett is to me, “A contract wife”, I had to say it out loud for me to convince myself and believe it. ***************

The headline read: "Stone’s New Partner: A Marriage That Shakes Up the Corporate World." She grimaced at the article. The press was framing their marriage as a power move, speculating on how it would affect the dynamics within Stone Enterprises. Some questioned her motives, others called it a strategic alliance, and a few even claimed it was a desperate attempt by Liam to secure control over his uncle, Victor.

I stared at it. “Your contract.” Rich people are so weird. They have contracts for everything. "You actually had this printed out?" I asked, flipping through the pages. "I like to be thorough." He didn't look at me as he pulled out his phone. "Read it all.” I forced myself to focus on the document until I found the actual terms. **The Wife shall reside exclusively in the Husband's penthouse for the duration of this agreement.** **The Wife must be accompanied by the Husband or his security before going outside the residence.**

"You were right there. You heard what she said before you left. You didn't say a word." "I had a meeting," I said, my voice hardening. I didn't like being questioned. The contract was clear: I provided stability for her family, and she provided the optics of a wife. "My time is managed by the minute. I don't have the luxury of refereeing social spats."

A week ago, the news broke that I'd filed a lawsuit against my wife of more than 20 years, Hazel Cooper, the woman who had shared my bed and my life for over half my adulthood. From that moment on, I became the neighborhood's favorite villain. Everyone called me the heartless man who had climbed his way to success and abandoned his wife and child without remorse. In their eyes, Hazel was flawless. She'd married me when I was poor and struggling. She never complained, even when life was hard. She cared for my sickly mother until her final days. She raised our son almost entirely on her own and turned him into a top student, the kind every family boasted about.

“I'll deal with it.” Sophia nodded. “Good.” Damien looked at her. “Anything else?” “Yes.” She hesitated. “Don't pretend you love me.” Damien's eyes met hers. “I won't.” “Not even in private.” His voice became quiet. “I understand.” Sophia nodded. “Good.” She picked up her laptop. “I have work tomorrow.” “You're still working?” “I need to.” “You're married now.” “Contract married.” “Same difference in public.”

Elena hated him a little for that. She hated herself more for not walking away. Adrian opened the contract, turning it toward her. “Twelve months. You appear publicly as my wife. You move into my home. You attend events when necessary. You don’t ask questions about my family, my past, or my private business.” “And in return?” “I clear your debts tonight. Your mother is moved to a private specialist by morning. At the end of the year, you receive two million pounds.” The diner seemed to tilt.

“What is this?” “The contract.” My eyebrows shot up. “You already had one?” “I had people prepare it.” I looked horrified. “You expected me to say yes?” “No.” “Then why make it?” “Because I like being prepared.” That sounded exactly like him. Reluctantly, I sat down and opened it, then frowned, the contract wasn’t what I expected at all. Separate bedrooms. Freedom of movement. No intimacy requirements. No control over my personal finances. No restrictions on my investigations.