The Price Of Marriage Novels & Stories

Someone who understands roles, hers and mine. And as a man, I’ll give her protection, a last name that opens every locked door, and a life most people can only dream of. That’s how it works here. Marriage isn’t love. It’s currency. People in my circle would laugh if anyone mentioned marrying for love. The higher you climb in society, the more obvious it becomes that power beats feelings. Luxury beats emotion every single time.

"Papa, go ahead." Papa sighed and guided me to sit on a nearby stone bench. "As you know, Enrico won't give up searching for you easily. He's the Don of a mafia family. His methods are ruthless, his influence vast. We can protect you for now, but it's not a long-term solution. "To give you and the child a more solid foundation, and to make Enrico give up completely, I've arranged a marriage alliance for you." I stayed silent, my emotions tangled.

“Your mother is sick. The bills are overwhelming. You’ve exhausted every option. But you haven’t given up. That makes you... suitable.” My fingers curl against the armrests of my chair, digging in hard just to keep myself steady. Suitable. Like I’m being measured for parts. “This isn’t real,” I whisper, barely hearing myself over the pounding in my ears. “It’s very real,” Mrs Valentino says. Her voice doesn’t waver. “We’ll pay off all your mother’s medical expenses. In return, you will marry our son, Stephano.” Stephano. When I was researching them, I didn't even think to look into them having any children.

“You okay?” Amara considered that. “She thinks I’m a pawn.” “You’re not.” “She said the board is watching you. That this marriage is a bluff.” He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he walked to the window and stared out at the endless stretch of manicured lawn and glittering fences. “It is a bluff,” he said finally. “But it’s also real. Once you sign, we get married. Legally. Publicly. For one year.” Amara walked over to him. “Why did she say this wouldn’t be enough?”

And… A fellow she used to know. Elira stiffened. His voice was relaxed. "Elira. Haven't seen you in a while.". Her lips opened, but she remained silent. He drew nearer. "I need a favor." Her legs nearly buckled. "What… what kind of favor?" His eyes drilled into her. "A marriage. To me. One year. No strings. In return, I'll settle your debts, pay for your brother's treatment, and provide you with enough to begin anew." She blinked.

Avan said quickly, panic flickering in his eyes. “How about this—we hold a small celebration first, then register the marriage after everything with the company is settled. I’ll give you the wedding you’ve always dreamed of, I promise.” “Let’s not meet again,” Laura cut him off, rising to open the door. She once dreamed of the day he’d propose, but now she realized he never intended to marry her. Chris’s impulsive marriage offer, even if meant to spite her, made her heart skip in a way Avan never did. She blinked back tears.

“He gets it, he accepts the bride price.” My blood boils over being treated like property to be traded in the market. “How long?” His eyebrows rise in surprise. “How long what?” “How long would I have to stay married to you?” I fold my arms across my chest. “This is a business arrangement, so let’s treat it like one. Let’s say $100k per year. Would that satisfy my debt?”

Rudela, We people from the slum rarely married the modern way. To have the Moon Priestess perform the ceremony and issue a marriage certificate cost around three thousand dollars. For those who could barely keep their stomachs full, it was far beyond reach. So soon after I turned eighteen and he turned twenty, we married in front of the elders and completed the basic marking ritual. Now, walking the bumpy roads, I realized one thing. I was grateful that in the last six years he had left me alone under the Moon Oracle and that I had never carried his child.

I'm Marilyn Voss' husband, yet I can't spend so much as a few dollars without getting approval through her company. When my father needs emergency surgery, I submit a desperate request for 30,000 Bellan dollars. Marilyn's assistant, Callan Rourke, finally approves it. Three minutes later, the transfer arrives. But at the hospital billing desk, I'm told I have only 138 dollars available. That's when I realize what Callan has done. He sent the money in the wrong currency, leaving me with only a fraction of what I need. I call my wife, frantic for help. "Callan already approved your request," Marilyn says coldly. "Stop asking for more. I'm busy." Then she hangs up. I send Callan pr