The Fake Marriage Of A Billionaire 소설 & 이야기

My parents found it difficult to understand why I still proceeded with marrying Sheila after what the Graysons' did. They were still angry with them and refused to acknowledge or accept Sheila. I couldn't blame them; my background check on Stevenson and Fiona Grayson revealed them as mere opportunists seeking a wealthy match for their daughter, Phoebe, under the disguise of marriage. Well, the jokes would be on them when I announce my marriage to Sheila to the public and the press realize the truth about my fake, supposed bankruptcy. Until then, I needed to sort some things out. ************************* "Mr. Walker, is it true you were never disinherited and are still a billionaire?"

The contract had a secrecy clause, how else would she explain to her best friend that she was married to a billionaire hence, the Limited Edition Car? “You better start talking Emily,” Kayla pressed, her arms crossed over her chest. Emily’s shoulders slumped, “I got married, Kayla. To a billionaire. I came back to get my things, I’m moving in with him.” “What?” Kayla screamed, her eyes wide in shock. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke,” her best friend asked in disbelief. “No, Kay, I’m serious,” Emily said, her voice firm. “How the f**k are you married? To a billionaire? Who’s he? When and how did all of this happen?”

I shrugged, “ I never knew he had done so much, he gave me a tip but they own this estate, what do you think is the possibility of me ever meeting him? I don't even know what to think or believe right now.” “ That has to be the reason why his mannerism is perfect, he is the most eligible single billionaire in Switzerland, and he is single. Everyone has tried to throw himself at him, but it just doesn't work.”Genevieve recounted. “ Well, it seems he has a type.” I couldn't help but blurt it out because what was I to say at the moment. “ Pregnant women obviously because I am pregnant.” “ That has me shocked, I don't even know what to say, are you sure no one has gotten the clip about this? The

“Nice place.” Lena blinked. “What—what are you doing here?” “I was in the city. Took a cab. Thought I’d stop by and congratulate my sister.” He pushed past her gently, stepping into the penthouse as if it offended him. Lena’s stomach dropped. “Noah…” He turned slowly. “Is it true?” he asked, voice low. “Are you marrying a billionaire?” She swallowed. “It’s… complicated.” “I’ll simplify it for you,” he said, stepping closer. “Did you lie to me?”

“You really love that word for someone who’s never had to spell it.” His eyes finally met mine. Heat. Ice. Chaos. I swallowed and tried not to combust. “I was curious,” I said. “You never told me why you need a fake girlfriend.” “For a business deal.” I blinked. That was… honest? “What kind of deal?” He smiled lazily. “Curious, are we?” “Yes. I’m literally sitting in a car with a man I barely know, about to have dinner with his billionaire father. I think I deserve a few details.”

My bla‌zer clung like an ill fitted body shaper, a⁠nd my laptop‌ bag fel⁠t twi​c​e​ a​s heavy with every s‌oaked‍ step‌. The marb‍le lobby s⁠me​lled like bergamot and mone‍y. My shoes squeaked a confess‌i‍on acr‌oss⁠ the⁠ floor, late. I quickly make my way Upstairs to the‍ c‌onfer‌ence‍ room‌, which glowed like an aquarium of sharks. T⁠welve tailor‍ed preda‌tors turned as​ one to study the sog‌gy girl who dare‌d show up. At the h​ea​d, Zane Cross‌, bi⁠llion​air‌e developer, media darling, and r‌umored corporate assassin.

He gestures wildly for a moment, his brows furrowing deep. “That’s it. Grandpa would’ve respected a ‘no’ from you. You’re his favorite—always have been. But you jumped at it, didn’t you? For the money, the status?” What? Why will he say that? I couldn’t hold the tears as they spill. “Wow?” my voice rising as I step closer, poking a finger at his chest. “You think I wanted this? A fake marriage to a billionaire who’s in love with another? Well you are right! I got married to you because of what I stand to get and I’m grateful to you that I got them.”

She just hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. The car merged into traffic, carrying her toward her apartment, toward the life she’d be packing up and leaving behind. In three days she’d move into Eric Harrison’s penthouse. In three days this fake marriage would really begin. She touched her lips, remembering the kiss. Brief, professional, meaningless. Except it hadn’t felt meaningless. And that, Alison thought, was going to be a problem.

Because if this is some kind of reality show, I would like to resign. I slowly turn in a full circle, no cameras. No director shouting, “Cut!” no hidden microphones. Just a room full of people who are looking at me like I escaped from the psychiatric hospital. I point at myself, “Can somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Nobody speaks, are rich people allergic to conversation? I look back at the billionaire. “No offense. But you look way too successful to answer an online advertisement.” “Yes.” I shake my head stubbornly, “Why do you agree to be my fake baby daddy for two million dollars?”