The Marriage Pact Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

“We promised forever—until death do us part.” A shiver moved up my back like a snake that slithered up my spine. Even though the book had run out of pages, our story continued. He’d grabbed another book off the shelf, a different tale from a different author, but he read it like it belonged to us—because he’d lost his goddamn mind. “We promised not to fuck other people too. You can’t pick and choose what you want, Bolton. This is marriage is over. I’m leaving.” He wore the blankest stare, like he hadn’t heard a word. “Don’t make me do this.”

A wave of relief swam through my body as I asked, "But why? Why would you want them to fuck me? You son of a bitch, I thought you said no more secrets… shit I should have known you set me up." "Well," he said as he paused to gather his thoughts. "The boys had a pact when I met them. They were all single guys too busy partying with other girls and living life to the fullest. They thought that marriage would get in the way of them having fun, and so they decided that they would all stay single and party for the rest of their days." He took another pause. "When I wanted to be their friend, they said whoever would be the first one to break this pact would have to let one of the other boys have h

For families like theirs, marriage was never about love—it was a calculated transaction, a means to maximize benefits. Personal choice was nothing more than a luxury they weren’t entitled to. Sure, on paper, Grace had married well—a husband of impeccable lineage, wealth, and striking looks. But what was the point? They had gone their separate ways after a short period they signed the papers. They didn’t see each other, not even enough to put on a pretense of a functional marriage. And who knew? Perhaps Raphael had already built a whole other life for himself in Australia.

It felt heavy, substantial, like a ledger of sins. ​"The time for contracts written in spreadsheets is over, Evie," he said, his golden eyes hardening. "Your problem is five million dollars. My problem is political. This document solves both." ​Evie looked down at the title emblazoned across the front page in stark, silver lettering: MARRIAGE CONTRACT AND ALLIANCE PACT. ​A shocked, involuntary gasp escaped her. She snatched up the document, her fingers fumbling as she flipped through the pages. The legal jargon was dense, but the content was sickeningly clear:

“He manipulated you to sign this contract and has now brainwashed you into thinking it was the right thing to do.” “I’m not brainwashed and I’m not saying the contract was the right thing to do. We made a mistake.” “He made a mistake offering you.” “And I signed it willingly.” “That still doesn’t lessen his sin,” he yelled at the top of his lungs. It probably alerted the entire neighbourhood of the commotion in our house. Oh shit, Adonis was right upstairs. “This is marriage, not a game.” “No, it’s not,” I said in a low voice, hoping he would follow. “So you can’t take me home with my husband’s knowledge.”

I glared at him refusing to listen. "Come on, pick it up" he ordered like he was talking to a pet dog. When I didn't listen, he crouched down to my level and picked up the papers himself. "Do you know what it is? It's our marriage contract, read it" He threw them on my face again. "I said fucking read it!" He yelled loudly. "Don't make me do something, you'll regret it afterward! Read it! I will beat you if I have to" He threatened.

A ruthless Alpha and I couldn’t bring myself to disobey even if I wanted to. I swallowed the knot in my throat, nodding mutely, my heart drumming a frantic beat against my ribcage as I removed every item of clothing on my. The marriage had been a merger of power, not passion; an alliance between packs that required consummation to seal the pact. There was no love here, only duty and the stark reality of obligation.

Instead he let his voice drop to a private, raw level. “You will not last with me the way you think,” he said. “And you will not break me the way you think,” she countered. He smiled then, a slow expression that was somehow both playful and predatory. “We’ll see whose prediction becomes truth.” Outside the glass walls, the city went on. Inside the office, a signature sat on a page and two people who had vowed the opposite of love stepped into a marriage that was already much more dangerous than either of them admitted. Elena folded the contract and left it on the desk.

He didn’t want to live in his son’s shadow, just as he already lived in his wife’s shadow. “Mom, I’m not going to marry just anyone,” he retorted, irritated. He really wanted the presidency, but not at the cost of marrying a woman who was only after his money—and, above all, without love. Yes, John believed in marrying for love. “That’s why we suggested a contract. Think about it: you get married, take over the group, and after three years, you’re free,” Martha argued. “No love, no emotional obligations. Just an agreement. And of course, a well-calculated compensation.”

Eric exchanged an icy gaze at me, causing me to swiftly look away as we resumed our steps to where a rounded, considerable table filled with people were. “Keep playing cool, people are getting convinced by our acts. Now, we're joining them for dessert, so stay beside me and do what I do” Eric paused and flashed a smile across a guest he recognized before glaring back at me. “And did I also forget to tell you it's only for a year? This marriage is a one-year thing, and we'll break up after that.”