The Ten Dollar Wife Novels & Stories

“This isn’t a joke. I’m offering you ten million dollars to marry me. And before you ask, no, I’m not insane.” “Ten million,” he said flatly. “Five to invest, five to transform. Clothes, car, apartment—whatever it takes to look like a billionaire’s wife. I’m not marrying someone who looks like she’s struggling to survive. You’ll stand beside me, not beneath me. Understood?” My throat dried. I wasn’t sure which part hit harder—the money or the insult. That was it. I stood up abruptly, startling Julian. He stayed seated, eyeing me cautiously.

“He needs to be married for his inheritance. I need a visa to stay in the country. He suggested we get married to solve both problems.” Mrs. Mary was quiet for a long moment. A pigeon landed near her feet and she shooed it away absently. “A marriage of convenience,” she said finally. “Like in the old days.” “It’s fraud.” “Is it? You’d be legally married. You’d live together, yes?” “He has a penthouse with four bedrooms. We’d have separate rooms.” “Ah.” Mrs. Mary smiled slightly. “Separate rooms. Very proper. Very sensible.” She paused. “Very lonely.”

The clerk, a young woman with a polished name tag that reads Elena, begins scanning the items. "That will be four thousand, eight hundred and twelve dollars," Elena says with a practiced smile. I pull my wallet from my bag and slide my primary credit card across the counter. It is the card linked to the joint account Mark and I have shared since our wedding day. It’s where my previous salary was deposited. It’s where our lives were legally entwined. Elena swipes it. Declined. I frown, tapping my fingers on the marble. "That’s impossible. Try it again. The chip might be dusty."

Then he left. The door clicked shut softly behind him. Silence returned immediately. Real silence this time. Lisa looked back down at the notepad. The first thing she had written stared back at her. She crossed the line out slowly. Then rewrote it underneath. Cleaner this time. More realistic. For a moment she stared at the page without moving. Then leaned back slightly in the chair. Forty-five million dollars. She had started losing herself in the reality of it. "Stop"

Bella I married for money and not for love. I dumped the fact that there may be people who care about me, and there were those who faked it. While the wedding certificates were being signed by my contract husband, I lived in the delusional state that this was not a contract, it was real. Mr. Blackwood will definitely not frame that contract, and Valerie? She can't do more than give me a dead stare from her seat. Moving around to get to a better position to have my signatures on the marriage certificate made me feel nauseous.

A wide smile spread across my husband's face as he shook her hand. "Welcome! Welcome! You are absolutely beautiful. You and my son make a perfect match." "Thank you, Sir." The woman smiled then shifted her gaze to me. She scanned me with analyzing eyes a look that Freddie also noticed which prompted him to introduce me. "This is my wife, Solana." Mathilda smiled and extended her hand to me. "It's nice to meet you, Ma'am Solana." I accepted her handshake, but I could feel that her smile was completely fake, put on only because she was in front of Freddie.

When the bank notified me about the insufficient balance in my account, a renowned venture capitalist, Julian Cregger, announced that he was searching for the benefactor who had lent him 30,000 dollars worth of startup funds during the winter years ago. Apparently, he was offering a reward of ten million for that good Samaritan. I immediately responded to it. After all, I couldn't come up with next month's rent. So, it wouldn't hurt to try my luck. … At the banquet, Julian's assistant, Luke Middleton, fired two questions at me. "Back then, what had been used to hold the money?" I tried hard to remember. "A black plastic bag, maybe?" He frowned at my answer. "What did you say to the ma

The nurse was her mother. They had her name. They had dates. They had a former colleague, unnamed, who "always wondered how a staff nurse's granddaughter ended up private-duty for a billionaire." They had the word inheritance doing quiet work in the sub-headline, and the word con doing louder work everywhere else. It was not written as an accusation. It was written as an obituary for one. She was not a woman who married for money, the Ledger explained to its million morning readers. She was the finish of a thirty-year project. The second secret was not that the wife was rented. It was that she had been bred for the lease.

after she has done tapping her phone, she threw herself to the floor kneeling in front of Richard with her teary face and sobbing hoping that Richard will turn soft to her. "I can still tolerate you if you just want to play with my money. I don't care about money, it's not an issue to me, but I really can't tolerate with you again if you do something to my wife." Hearing Richard keeps saying the word 'my wife' made her go mad. She furiously bristles to him. "Richard! She just the fake actress that you pick her up at the street. She's not your real wife! You pay her to be your wife but she is not. You never liked a woman."

"Adalyn Milo?!" "Yeah?" He replied slowly, raising a befuddled eyebrow at her. "Geez! Where's his office?" She shouted. "There." He jerked his thumb to the door of Fred's office. "Wait. You can't go in, it's..." He warned but she ignored him and stormed to Fred's office. "Jayda Black, my legally married wife." She heard Fred say. "Jayda Black? I know that crap. How could you stoop so low to marry such a gold digger?" Adalyn's voice bounced on Jayda's brain like a volcano as it made her head boil.