Three Years Contract Marriage With The Billionaire Novels & Stories

I admit that in my current condition, anyone would pity me, but that didn’t mean I was pathetic enough to— “Three years marriage contract. No love or attachment, it’s just by paper. In exchange, I’ll clear your name with all my might and help you claim everything your father left in your name and together, we’ll take down Robert for being an asshole. Think about it, Eleanor. All you have to do is sign the document and be married to me. You can sleep with whoever you want, whenever you want— as long as the media doesn’t find out. You owe me nothing and I, in return, will give everything I’ve promised you. It’s just a contract marriage.” As he spoke, I stared at the file as my eyes watered. It

she muttered. Connor chuckled. "Like I said, you’ll be married for three years. You’re not allowed to be in a relationship with anyone else during the duration of the marriage." He pushed a contract toward her. "Go through it thoroughly. Everything you’re expected to do is listed. If you have any conditions, let me know." He looked at me, who’d been quiet throughout, then back to her. "You’ll be paid a million dollars once the contract is signed, and the other million when the three years are completed."

he began, his voice cool and detached, a contrast to his earlier pronouncements. “This is not what it seems.” My stomach tightened. Deep down, I had known. “This is a contract marriage,” he stated, his eyes fixed on mine. “A temporary arrangement. You will play the role of my wife and the mother of my child, for exactly one year. After that, you will leave. Without the child.” My blood ran cold. Leave? Leave my child? “In return,” he continued, as if discussing the weather, “you will receive a substantial sum – $100 million – to kickstart your career. I will also purchase a house for you in New York, a place where you can begin your new life, unburdened.”

“What is this?” “A proposal,” he said. “A solution. My father’s will contains a clause that requires me to be married within the year to maintain certain corporate protections. I need a wife—under terms that protect my interests. You need payment for your brother’s surgery. I provide funds, you provide marriage for one year. No emotional entanglement. A formal, legal arrangement.” The room tilted in on itself. Elena felt disoriented as if the carpet had moved. “Are you—are you offering me money for marriage?” Her laugh sounded broken and incredulous. “That’s—cruel.”

Something almost like heat. “Because I want you,” he says simply. “And I always get what I want.” He’s circling me again, and I feel like prey being stalked. “We’ll have the wedding of the century,” he continues. “In three weeks. Marcus and Vivienne will be there, forced to watch you marry a billionaire. Watch you become untouchable. Watch you win.” Three weeks. He’s talking about marrying a stranger in three weeks. “This is crazy,” I whisper.

The clash was too shocking and surprising. He raised his voice, but still controlled. “now Listen carefully. I’m giving you a choice.” He pulled out a business card from his pocket and slid it straightly across the counter. It felt cold. Heavy. “Marry me. Sign a contract. Fourteen months. You’ll be entitled to three million dollars. No feelings. No attachment. Power and total control only.” What! I blinked at the card again and again, as though it were some dead joke which can never come Alive.

He walked to the table, pushed the folder toward her. “This is it. The agreement. Three months. A marriage, in name and appearance. Public displays. Press dinners. Family weekends. One believable love story.” He leaned in, voice steel-edged. “The rules are simple: no emotions, no attachments… and walk away when the contract ends.” Fiona stared at the folder like it was ticking. “Sixty million dollars?” He nodded. “Transferred to your account in full the moment the marriage certificate is signed.” Her fingers hovered above the contract.

Adrián finally stated. Her jaw dropped in absolute shock. "Marry you?" "Yes, Miss Elena. I am proposing a contractual arrangement—a marriage in name only, governed by mutually agreed-upon terms. Rest assured, I will ensure you are fully compensated for any inconvenience, particularly regarding financial support," he explained earnestly. The sheer audacity of the proposition left Elena utterly speechless. The offer dropped out of a clear blue sky, demanding time her brain simply didn't have to process the implications. "Mr. Adrián... please, give me a moment. This is a lot to absorb."

“I entered this marriage because I wanted to save my family. I didn't know your family had secrets of its own. I didn't know my mother was alive. I didn't know Thomas had taken me when I was a baby.” Her voice trembled, but she continued. “Yet I'm still here. Not because a contract says I must be. Not because your grandfather arranged our lives. I'm here because I choose to be.” Martin stared at her. For a moment, the ruthless billionaire disappeared behind the man who had been betrayed by the people he trusted most. “What happens when the contract ends?” he asked. The question caught Claire off guard. “What?” “Our marriage. The agreement. All of it was supposed to last one year.”

“Three days.” My head shot up. “Excuse me?” “You have three days to provide your answer. Afterward, I'll begin considering alternative candidates.” I stared at him incredulously. Alternative candidates? What is this? The Bachelor: Billionaire Edition? I glanced down at the contract again. Ten million dollars. One year. A marriage to a man I could barely tolerate. Jesus Christ. “Fine,” I finally said. “You'll have my answer in three days.” Dante nodded. “Excellent.”