The CEO's Contract Wife

Chapter 5

The drive back to Dasmariñas Village was suffocatingly quiet.

Nathan navigated the EDSA traffic with one hand on the wheel, his expression unreadable. We hadn’t spoken a word since we signed the papers. The reality of what we had just done hung in the air between us like thick smoke. We were married. Legally bound. Yet, we hadn't discussed a single practical detail.

He pulled up to the heavy iron gates of my father’s house. The security guard, recognizing the Phantom, waved us through immediately.

Nathan parked and killed the engine. He didn’t wait for me; he got out and walked to the front door, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. My father had given him those keys five years ago, telling him, "My house is your house." It used to feel comforting that he was so at home here. Now, watching my new husband unlock my front door without asking, it felt like an invasion.

As the heavy narra door swung open, a sound drifted out from the sala.

Laughter. The clinking of porcelain. The distinct, high-pitched chatter of Titas gossiping.

Nathan froze. He looked at me, an eyebrow raised. I shook my head, bewildered. I hadn't invited anyone.

Nathan’s jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone, typed a rapid-fire message to his security team, and pocketed it before striding into the living room.

I followed him and stopped dead in my tracks.

There, sitting on my father’s favorite Italian leather sofa, was Lola Imelda. She was holding court, surrounded by five other women—wives of senators and board members. A spread of catered pastries and imported tea was laid out on the coffee table.

"Lola?" I said, my voice shaking with disbelief.

The conversation stopped. Six pairs of surgically enhanced eyes turned to us.

"Isabelle! Nathan!" Lola Imelda beamed, setting down her teacup. She looked us up and down, taking in my cream dress and Nathan’s suit. "My goodness, look at you two. So formal! Did you come from a meeting? Or a party I wasn't invited to?"

She didn't know. We hadn't told her about the wedding.

Nathan didn't smile. He walked over to her, his presence dominating the room.

"Doña Imelda," Nathan said, his voice smooth but with a razor-sharp edge. "I didn't realize you were entertaining."

"Oh, just a small gathering, ijo," she waved a hand dismissively. "We were just discussing how to handle the charity ball now that Roberto is gone. Isabelle needs guidance on these things."

Nathan placed a hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding me.

"I see," Nathan said. "Well, I hope you enjoyed the tea. Manong Eddie is waiting outside with the SUV. He’s already loaded your luggage."

The room went silent. Lola Imelda blinked, her smile faltering. "Excuse me? Luggage? I'm staying here. Isabelle needs me. She can't be alone in this big house."

"Actually," Nathan said, his voice dropping an octave, ensuring everyone heard him clearly. "Isabelle won't be staying here tonight. Or for the foreseeable future."

"She won't?" Imelda snapped. "And where exactly is she going?"

"She's coming home with me," Nathan said calmly. "The Sarmiento residence. My mother treats Isabelle like her own daughter. My brother is her best friend. She needs to be surrounded by family who can protect her privacy."

He emphasized the word privacy, glancing pointedly at the room full of gossip-mongers.

Imelda’s face flushed red. She wanted to argue, but Nathan cut her off by turning his charm on the guests. He apologized for cutting their afternoon short, promised future sponsorships for their charities, and effectively charmed them out the door.

Within two minutes, the room was empty. Only Lola Imelda remained. She realized she couldn't fight Nathan Sarmiento—not when he controlled the narrative and the money. With a look of pure hatred directed at me, she grabbed her bag and marched out.

The front door clicked shut.

"I could have handled her myself, you know," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Nathan finally cracked a smile. He reached out and ruffled my hair, a gesture so brotherly and patronizing it made me want to scream. I swatted his hand away.

"Sure you could have," he said. "But why waste the energy?"

He picked up his phone and called the village security, instructing them that Imelda Alcantara was barred from entry unless authorized by him personally. Then, he sat down on the sofa, loosened his tie, and let it hang undone around his neck.

It was annoying how effortless he looked.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "We need to figure this out."

I sat down, keeping my distance. "You told her I was moving in with you. Was that just to get rid of her?"

"Partly," he admitted. "But also practical. We have the papers. I brought a copy." He tapped a folder on the coffee table. "But we can't stay here, Issa. This house... it's a mausoleum right now. Too many memories."

I looked around the living room. He was right. Every corner reminded me of Dad.

"I agree," I whispered. "I can't stay here."

"So," Nathan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Options. My penthouse in BGC? It's quiet, private. Or the family estate in Alabang with my mom and Gio?"

I hesitated. The smart choice was the penthouse—neutral territory. But the thought of being alone with Nathan in a bachelor pad made me anxious. I needed noise. I needed comfort. I needed...

"Your mom's house," I said. "I miss Tita Corazon. And... it feels more like home."

Nathan nodded slowly. "Alabang it is. Mom will be thrilled."

He paused, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The casual atmosphere evaporated, replaced by business-like intensity.

"Now. The rules."

I stiffened. "Rules?"

"We don't need a written contract for day-to-day life," he said. "But we need to be on the same page. First: Fidelity."

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I know this is a marriage of convenience," Nathan said, his voice low. "But while we are married, you are a Sarmiento. I won't have you running around town with other men. I expect total loyalty. And you will get the same from me."

I let out a harsh laugh. "You think I'm going to cheat? Please. I'm not the one with a playboy reputation."

"I'm serious, Isabelle," he cut in, his eyes darkening. "No side flings. No 'secret boyfriends' to help you get through the lonely nights. I don't care if we don't love each other. I won't be disrespected."

"What if we're discreet?" I challenged, just to annoy him. "We both have needs, right?"

Nathan laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're confused. I didn't marry you for your money. My family has plenty. I married you because of who your father was and to protect the company. But I am a jealous man when it comes to what's mine. If you cheat, the deal is off. I'll file for divorce, and the stocks can burn for all I care."

I swallowed. He wasn't bluffing.

"Fine," I said. "Rule number one: No cheating. Next?"

"Rule number two," Nathan said, leaning back. "You need to distance yourself from Gio."

My blood boiled. "You're insane. He's my best friend. You can't dictate who I talk to."

"I'm not saying you can't talk to him," Nathan said calmly. "I'm saying you need boundaries. You're his sister-in-law now, not his childhood crush. No more late-night calls. No more crying on his shoulder."

"You have no right—"

"I have every right," he interrupted. "I won't have my wife pining over my brother under my own roof. It's messy, it's undignified, and frankly, it makes you look desperate."

That stung. "You're an ass, Nathan."

"I'm pragmatic," he countered with a shrug. "Try me, Isabelle. See what happens."

I glared at him, but I knew he had a point. It would be torture to be near Gio anyway.

"Fine," I snapped. "Is that it?"

"Your turn," he said, gesturing to me. "What are your terms?"

I took a deep breath.

"Secrecy," I said firmly. "I don't want anyone outside the immediate family to know we're married. If we have to attend events, we go as 'partners' or 'executives.' I don't want the world knowing I'm your wife."

Nathan tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because in two years, when I turn twenty-five, we are getting an annulment," I stated. "And I don't want to spend the rest of my life being known as Nathan Sarmiento’s ex-wife. I want a clean break."

Nathan studied me for a long moment. His expression softened just a fraction.

"Fair enough," he agreed. "We keep it quiet. Only the family knows."

"Good," I said, standing up. "Then let's get out of here."

"One more thing," Nathan said, standing up to meet me. He towered over me, smelling of expensive whiskey and sandalwood.

"We can figure out the rest as we go," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But get used to the ring, Mrs. Sarmiento. You're not taking it off."